Marvel's Strongest Mage

"What do you plan to do with this clinic?" Jane Foster asked, glancing around the now-quiet space. Though Daniel had officially inherited it, she still held a deep emotional attachment to the place. Memories lingered in every corner.

"Business as usual," Daniel replied calmly. He nodded toward Lina and Elaine, who were watching from a distance, uncertain. "I'll bring in a licensed psychiatrist for consultation. Only qualified professionals will work here. Of course, the level of care may not be quite what it used to be—and from now on, we'll have to charge fees. Otherwise, it won't be sustainable."

"It should've been that way all along," Jane said with a rueful smile. Because of Donald Blake's soft heart, the clinic had often waived fees, especially for those unable to pay. It attracted many patients, but financially it had always teetered on the edge.

The constant turnover of nurses had been a consequence of low wages. Lina and Elaine were among the few who stuck it out. Jane doubted even they would've stayed much longer under the previous model.

The whole situation felt surreal. Jane had always been practical, yet the whirlwind of recent events had knocked her off balance. She'd once imagined a stable path—then came Thor, then Asgard, then chaos. It all felt like a fever dream.

She had no idea that Thor, before leaving Earth, had promised to return soon. But with no sign of him, she could only assume something serious had happened. In truth, the Rainbow Bridge had shattered—just as fate foretold—and rebuilding it would take nearly a year. Thor's first priority, once back in Asgard, was not Earth, but managing the mounting chaos in the Nine Realms.

Though Asgard ruled for centuries, it had always harbored internal resistance. Odin had even nurtured some of these dissident forces, intending them as a crucible for Thor's growth. This included factions tied to the sorceress Amora. Their reach was deep. Much deeper than even Thor had guessed.

Asgard's eventual fall—Ragnarök—was never the fault of Surtur alone.

Daniel didn't know the full story, only pieces he'd inferred from experience. He didn't realize how deeply the seeds of upheaval had already been planted.

Jane, true to form, didn't linger. Once she handed over the clinic, she stepped away from it completely. She'd already lined up options for Lina and Elaine, in case things didn't work out under Daniel. For her, it was time to move on.

"I'm going to London next month. If there's anything else, catch me before I leave," she said, before heading out with Daisy Louise. That left Daniel with the building, the staff—and his plans.

Besides the equipment, only Lina and Elaine remained.

Lina, 23, was a recently graduated nurse—fit, neat, short-haired, and sharp-eyed. Elaine, a Black woman in her late twenties, carried the no-nonsense vibe of a seasoned clinic veteran. When it came to unruly patients, Elaine's authority was unmatched.

Seeing their worried expressions, Daniel spoke plainly. "Operations continue. I'm bumping your salaries by $500 for now. If things go smoothly, another $500 might follow. But if issues arise—I won't hesitate to let you go."

Their tension evaporated the moment they heard "raise." The second part—termination threats—they pretended not to hear. What could possibly go wrong in a sleepy Manhattan clinic?

Truthfully, the previous operation under Donald Blake had been charitable to a fault. Even with the raise, they were only now reaching standard wages. Still, Daniel wasn't stingy. If they performed well, there would be more. If not, he wouldn't keep them around.

With staffing stable, Daniel granted them a few days off while he finalized arrangements for the incoming psychiatrist. The clinic would reopen soon, but in the meantime, word was already spreading. Despite being closed, passersby continued to stop in daily. Affordable mental healthcare in Manhattan was a rare commodity.

Daniel wouldn't limit services either. While the clinic specialized in psychiatric care, many with physical injuries had come under Donald Blake's name. Daniel would continue treating them—but for a price.

Minimal remodeling was required. A light cleaning, a small office for himself, and the clinic would be ready.

Having wrapped up those preparations, Daniel walked to Central Park.

Even during the week, the park was teeming with people. But beneath the shade of towering trees, Daniel felt something stir within him. His very cells seemed to breathe. The sensation was primal, magical—rooted in his oldest training: wood magic.

He'd begun his magical journey with an affinity for the wood element. Combined with exceptional spiritual strength, his mastery had been rapid and profound. But fate threw him onto Jotunheim, where he had no choice but to adapt—and ultimately ascend to the legendary realm—using ice magic.

Once a legendary ice mage, Daniel had believed his path was fixed. But upon returning to Earth, the thin magical atmosphere made it nearly impossible to maintain that power. His legendary ice status began to deteriorate. Reluctantly, he pivoted to water magic, close enough in form.

Unbeknownst to him, Odin had long manipulated the conditions that enabled Daniel's breakthrough in Jotunheim. It was all part of a bigger game. Odin, as ever, played chess with people's lives.

But that meddling gave Daniel a gift he hadn't expected: the opportunity to rebuild. As his ice magic waned, the vacuum allowed another path—another legendary domain—to emerge. He didn't return to wood magic, knowing it wouldn't be enough. Instead, he gambled on space magic.

After all, one of the Infinity Stones—the Space Stone—was still hidden on Earth.

But fate had other plans. Odin dropped an unfinished Thor's Hammer onto Earth. On the surface, it was meant to draw Loki's attention and lighten Thor's burden. But Daniel knew better. That hammer wasn't for Thor. It was Odin's final attempt to mold Daniel into something useful—or disposable.

He suspected it immediately. Was he being set up as a decoy Thor? A sacrificial lightning rod?

In Chinese myth, disciples were often offered as scapegoats to save their masters. The parallels weren't lost on Daniel.

Despite Thor's kindness, Daniel always stayed cautious. And perhaps sensing this, Thor returned the hammer—but not before invoking the name of another wielder: Beta Ray Bill.

That was the moment Daniel understood. Maybe he was a pawn—but he didn't have to play by their rules. Odin's grip wouldn't last forever. His twilight was coming. And when it came, all of Odin's schemes would vanish with him.

Daniel's greatest danger wasn't Odin—it was Thanos.

If Thanos learned Daniel's weaknesses, he'd exploit them without hesitation. That's why Daniel never wanted to depend on the hammer. If it became his core weapon, and Asgard fell, he'd fall with it.

Ultimately, strength was the only thing that mattered. Legendary strength.

Daniel had reclaimed that title using thunder magic. His previous affinity for ice was gone. Thunder was now his core. With Thor's Hammer, he could unleash power rivalling even the gods.

He'd also discovered something fascinating: it might be possible to use other magic types at legendary levels again. It would take time—but it was within reach.

He would start with wood magic. Central Park was the perfect training ground, both naturally and strategically. That's why he agreed to take over Donald Blake's clinic. It wasn't just a business—it was a base of operations.

Few could imagine how vast Central Park truly was. Spanning over 5,000 acres in the heart of Manhattan—land worth untold billions—it contained forests, rivers, bridges, fountains, meadows, and wildlife. It was its own miniature world.

If this weren't New York, Daniel might have already built his Mage Tower.

Sadly, the U.S. government would never allow such a structure to stand—at least, not until the Chitauri invasion changed everything. After that, who knew how much of Manhattan would even remain standing?