Marvel's Strongest Mage

Inside the towering glass walls of Imperial University's main library, Daniel flipped through a thick volume on quantum physics. He skimmed a few key sections, confirmed its relevance, and gently set it aside—placing it atop an already formidable stack of more than a dozen books.

The library was buzzing with quiet purpose. Students packed the aisles and reading rooms, hunched over textbooks or furiously typing on laptops. Despite the chaos that had erupted just days ago, the academic rhythm of Imperial University had barely skipped a beat. The university's learning atmosphere was unshaken, its culture too steeped in intellect and denial to let a little thing like a superhuman battle derail it.

To most, what happened the day before yesterday was nothing more than an isolated incident—perhaps even an emergency drill. Very few truly grasped the severity of the event.

After all, this was Imperial University. It wasn't just any school; it was one of the most prestigious scientific research institutions in the world. Both Reed Richards—Mister Fantastic—and his long-time rival Victor von Doom had walked these halls.

So, the sudden appearance of military vehicles wasn't unusual. It had happened before. Whispers floated through the student body, theories blossoming like wildfire. Some believed it was a failed experiment, others suspected a training mishap. There was even a tinge of smug amusement in the air—as if students were reveling in someone else's misfortune.

But not everyone was clueless. While most students remained in the dark, a handful of faculty and top-level administration knew the truth. A few sharp-eyed students had recorded parts of the incident—videos now long deleted. The military had moved fast. Even the few clips that had momentarily made it online vanished within minutes, scrubbed by pre-deployed cyber teams.

The government had been preparing for an event like this for years. Dozens of countermeasures had been theorized, drafted, and tested. Still, they hadn't expected the Hulk's raw power to so thoroughly overwhelm their equipment. Even the experimental sonic cannons had failed. If Daniel hadn't intervened, they might've been forced to deploy tanks—and once that line was crossed, covering up the event would have been impossible.

That's why curiosity about Daniel had grown.

Who was he?

If General Ross hadn't quickly brokered an informal understanding with him, Daniel would've been swarmed by government agencies by now—NYPD, FBI, even S.H.I.E.L.D. He likely would've been visited by Agent Phil Coulson himself.

But Ross had gotten to him first—and that changed everything.

Today, Daniel's book haul reflected three distinct interests. The first category: advanced literature on modern biology and human experimentation. The second: high-level texts on quantum physics and subatomic theory. And the third, curiously enough—interior design and residential renovation manuals.

Daniel intended to settle into his apartment for the long haul. The first and second floors—the living room and bedroom—were serviceable. But the basement and attic? They needed reconstruction. He was already planning structural changes: reinforcing the basement, sealing the attic, and embedding hidden enchantments and magical wards. It would become a hybrid of personal sanctuary and magical training ground—akin to the New York Sanctum of the Sorcerer Supreme.

Naturally, he would leave the physical renovations to professional contractors. But as they worked, he'd discreetly embed his own enchantments. A subtle flick of magic here, a hidden sigil there. None of the workers would remember a thing once the job was done. That part was easy.

As for the scientific texts, Daniel had already reviewed most of the modern biology content. It largely centered on genetic editing and targeted DNA modulation—technologies originally designed for advanced medicine, but undeniably adjacent to super-soldier research. Modern physics, meanwhile, focused on the behavior of matter and energy at extreme scales—quantum physics for manipulating time and space, and nuclear physics for destructive force.

In many ways, magic and physics were two sides of the same coin. The terminology differed, but the objective was the same: to understand the nature of reality.

Daniel believed that if he could master both frameworks—science and sorcery—he could transcend them.

As he gathered his books and made his way to the checkout counter, a group of students passed by. Amid them, unnoticed by others, a letter slipped into the middle of his stack.

Outside, beneath the fall canopy of trees lining the quad, Daniel opened the envelope. He read the contents in seconds, memorizing them. With a subtle flick of his fingers, the letter burst into fine ash and vanished into the breeze.

Paper letters. Obsolete, yes—but far safer. Daniel understood digital communication all too well. Emails, messages, and cloud files—all of it could be traced, reconstructed, or decrypted by government supercomputers. Even wiping a phone clean didn't matter. Once your data touched a network, it left a footprint.

The U.S. government didn't have a supercomputer. It had dozens. Entire vaults of hard drives piled with intercepted data.

After finishing his errands, Daniel drove a rented car to Betty Ross's home. Despite their breakup, public perception still placed him firmly in opposition to Bruce Banner. His moment of heroism on campus had made waves. To most outsiders, Daniel was the one who stood between the monster and the students.

He carried a box filled with groceries and books as he approached her home—an elegant but modest villa on the Upper East Side. It wasn't extravagant, but even so, the price tag here was six times what Daniel had paid for his own place.

Betty had earned every cent. A respected scientist, with consulting contracts across biotech firms, published papers, professorships, and patent royalties—her net worth neared eight figures.

When she opened the door and saw him standing there, arms full, she blinked. "You? I thought I wouldn't be seeing you again anytime soon."

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Why? Think I'm helping your father hunt down the Hulk? I've got better things to do."

He set the box down in her entryway and added, "Your dad asked me to keep an eye on you for a few days. I'm just doing my duty—as your future student, nothing more. Our relationship is strictly academic from here on out."

"I get it," Betty replied, rolling her eyes and turning back toward her research. "Men always say that."

Daniel let the remark slide. He moved into the kitchen, setting things down while she scrolled through data on her tablet. But after a moment of silence, she turned back around.

"From a purely professional perspective," she asked, hesitating slightly, "is it possible to use magic to control certain biochemical functions in cells?"

Daniel paused. Then smiled faintly. "I know what you're thinking. And yes—it's possible."

A flicker of surprise crossed Betty's face. Daniel continued, voice calm but laced with cold undertones. "Approaching absolute zero, you can completely arrest cellular activity. If controlled correctly, you could preserve someone indefinitely. No movement, no decay—no problems."

Betty stiffened.

She understood. This was the same concept behind cryonic freezing—the speculative practice of preserving humans in ice until future medical advancements could revive them.

Daniel was describing a magical version of the same.

The catch? Like Schrödinger's Cat, the outcome couldn't be confirmed until the experiment was observed. No one knew whether the preserved individual was alive or dead—until thawed.

And if someone tried using that method on the Hulk…

Betty felt a chill settle over her as the implications sank in.