Time's Up, Joker.

More advance chapters on [email protected]/Saintbarbido. Seriously, got a lot of free fics there too.

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-3 Weeks Later-

-Kamar-Taj-

(General P.O.V)

Three weeks had passed since Michael first arrived at Kamar-Taj, and in that time, he had settled into a relentless routine.

Every morning, he began with personal training, refining his physical body through hard, solitary work.

Then, as the sun rose higher over the distant mountains, he joined the courtyard for sparring sessions. The reason? To refine his stolen martial arts techniques against the Masters.

The courtyard was a vast, open space reserved for training. It sat in the middle of the austere architecture of the compound, with training dummies and wooden targets for spell pactrice.

At first, the denizens of Kamar-Taj, apprentices, Practitioners and Masters alike, had regarded him with something close to disdain.

A man with no magic, no place here, challenging their very best Martial Experts—it was seen as arrogant at best.

Especially considering how highly regarded Martial Arts were in Kamar-Taj. The physical movements were not only for discipline and self defense but contributed into magic growth as well. The stronger a vessel, the more magic one could use.

Hence they sneered, called him an outsider, a fraud.

But as the days went on, the whispers softened, shifting to something more respectful, even astonished.

One by one, Michael began taking down seasoned Masters, each encounter bringing new surprises and revelations.

He defeated grappling experts versed in Aikido, Judo and Jiu Jitsu with a strength and swiftness that seemed impossible, maneuvered past tacticians of Karate and Kungfu with startling clarity, and outstruck the best Muay Thai and Taekwondo strikers, weaving through complex patterns and redirecting attacks with his own adaptations of the very same techniques.

It became clear that Michael was learning faster than anyone had anticipated, absorbing decades of expertise in mere weeks.

His mastery was quickly approaching the level he wanted. A level where all his skills would merge into a collective, And his body could respond to an attack BEFORE an opponent even initiated it.

In his own thoughts, he termed this level as Counter-initiative. There was Post-Initiative, where he responded AFTER his opponent attacked, pre-initiative where he responded BEFORE the opponent attacked, and Counter-initiative, where he saw through an opponent's next few moves and responded before they even THOUGHT of attacking.

Michael was determined to disdain weakness. When the League stole the Rider from him, he'd been left helpless. Never again.

And so, he continued learning from and decimating the ranks of these experts.

And on the twenty-first morning, this hadn't changed.

-0-

The courtyard was filled with more spectators than usual.

The air buzzed with anticipation as Michael prepared for a match against another expert. This time it was Master Wong. The Sorcerer in charge of guarding the New York Sanctum.

Michael had been fortunate to come across him, as Wong's duties kept him away from Kamar-Taj.

Masters, apprentices, and novices alike gathered to witness what had become a spectacle, murmuring as the two faced off in the center of the courtyard.

While Michael had surprised them time and time again, Master Wong was known for being too tough to take down.

In the very first clash however, it became clear who had the upper hand.

"By the Vishanti!" a female apprentice exclaimed, her voice breathless with awe. "He's pushing back Master Wong!"

Michael, dressed in a simple gray gi had scored a punch that left a visible bruise on Wong's forearm. A serious look came over the latter.

'He's no novice. That's a fact.'

Wong thought.

Slightly smirking as if reading his thoughts, Michael shot forward. His approach was perfect, and he moved with a precision and force that had been absent 2 weeks ago.

For this fight, he was limiting himself to simple but effective Boxing.

Wong, known for his almost impenetrable defense, flowed with the fluidity of Tai Chi, redirecting Michael's hard hitting punches with the poise and discipline of a seasoned master.

Despite the reverence Wong inspired, Michael pushed him hard, his strikes sharp and unyielding. The two of them danced across the courtyard, leaving dust in their wake.

With a smart feint, Michael closed the distance between them, sending a powerful jab toward Wong's chest.

Wong's arms rose in a crossguard, catching the fist with surprising stability, though the force created a sharp blast of wind that whipped through the crowd.

"You're tougher than you look, Wong," Michael said, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Wong chuckled, his tone light yet resolute. "I've taken harder hits from the Ancient One herself."

A faint golden sheen appeared on Wong's skin as he resumed his stance, signaling his use of a spell.

"Buddha's Body." He called out, a defensive technique meant to reinforce his already crazy durability.

Michael observed him carefully, recognizing the challenge.

"I'm going to break your Buddha's Body with this next strike," he declared, grinning as he wound back a punch.

"Impossible." Wong muttered, though a spark of doubt flashed in his eyes.

In a flash, Michael launched his fist forward, driving his knuckles against Wong's defense with a thunderous force greater than any previous attack.

He'd officially stopped playing.

The crossguard broke under the pressure, sending Wong sailing back and rolling across the stone floor, as gasps echoed from the spectators.

In an instant, it was over.

An uproar went through the crowd.

"Dammit! I lost all my money!"

Some who had bet on the odds of the fight complained.

"Hahaha! I friggin won! I told you suckers Daddy Mike is undefeated!"

And others were bursting with Joy.

"How? How is he this strong??!"

There was confusion, disbelief but universally? They all cheered for him.

Michael ignored it all and walked forward to extend a hand to the stunned Master. Wong took it with a hesitant smile, shaking his head as he rose.

"You didn't have to punch me that hard," he said with a rueful grin, brushing dust from his robe.

Michael's grin widened. "I knew you could take it."

Wong exhaled deeply, glancing down at his hands. "I've trained most of my life to build this defense, and yet, with one strike, you shattered my techniques. Even with 'Buddha's Body'—enhanced by the strong enchantments on my robe—you broke through it like paper. I can see why she thinks you deserving..."

"Deserving? Of what?"

Michael raised an eye brow.

Looking around, Wong gathered himself, reached into his robe, and briefly showed Michael a rolled up parchment. He then leaned in close.

"Keep this to yourself, but I have it on good authority that you're on this year's 'List.'" Wond winked, as if savoring a private joke.

Michael frowned. "The list? What's that?"

"Let's just say it might lead to you obtaining a Relic, a rare privilege, even for our own apprentices," Wong whispered before stepping away with a bow.

"Until then, goodbye, Mr. Anders."

A second later, the courtyard bell tolled, signaling the start of the day's lessons.

The crowd began to disperse, leaving Michael alone to ponder Wong's cryptic words.

But from across the courtyard, unnoticed by Michael, a pair of eyes watched him with cold resentment.

---

Karl Mordo stood in the shadows, his gaze fixed on Michael as he walked away.

Jealousy flared in his chest as he saw the respect in the eyes of the apprentices and Masters who'd once mocked Michael. Mordo's fists clenched, his knuckles whitening.

'Look at him,' he thought bitterly. 'Walking around like he owns this place, like he belongs.'

A soft chuckle sounded behind him, and Mordo turned to see a black haired Sorcerer in the red and yellow clothes of a Master Sorcerer approaching.

He was flanked by two practitioners in red outfits- his followers. The Man stopped before Mordo and offered him a conspiratorial smile.

"Kaecilius," Mordo greeted him warily, eyeing the group with suspicion. "I didn't expect you back so soon."

Kaecilius shrugged, glancing past him toward Michael's retreating form.

"I returned last night, just in time to hear about our new guest," he replied, his tone dripping with disdain. "The Ancient One, inviting a demon into our sanctum."

Mordo stiffened at the words, torn between loyalty and his own dark thoughts.

He forced himself to reply with forced calm. "The Ancient One has her reasons, Kaecilius. She sees further than any of us."

Kaecilius smirked, casting a sly look at Mordo. "Ah, so true. But not enough to justify a wrong decision. Perhaps our esteemed Master has finally gone senile. Perhaps it's time for a new Sorcerer Supreme. Someone who actually respects Kamar-Taj's traditions and doesn't consort with demons."

Mordo clenched his jaw, the words echoing his own thoughts, but his faith in his Master prevailed, "The Ancient One is still the most powerful sorcerer in the world, Kaecilius. Don't be foolish."

With that, he turned to leave, uncomfortable with where the conversation was headed.

"Power alone isn't enough to lead, Mordo," from the back, Kaecilius replied smoothly, as if he'd been waiting for it. "And I think you know that."

He gestured to his followers, who moved to flank Mordo, blocking his path.

Mordo tensed, his hand instinctively moving toward the amulet hanging around his neck. One of his Relics. "If this is some kind of scheme, Kaecilius, you'd do well to leave me out of it."

Kaecilius held up his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, friend. I'm merely suggesting that you might be a better Sorcerer Supreme than our... misguided Master."

His voice lowered, a hint of malice in his eyes. "And what better way to prove yourself to everyone else, than by dealing with this… outsider?"

At this, the resentment in Mordo simmered, memories of Michael's easy triumph over him replaying in his mind.

The bruises to his pride had yet to fade, and he found himself entertaining Kaecilius' words, even as doubt persisted.

"He's under the Ancient One's protection," Mordo replied slowly, the hesitation evident in his tone.

Kaecilius' smile turned sinister. "That's understating it a lot. Are you aware, she's arranged for him to join the relic selection ceremony, a privilege reserved for the most gifted among us? But it seems our Master has lost faith in you, Mordo, if she didn't even tell you of this."

Mordo's fists clenched as rage and the feeling of betrayal flared hotly. "What are you suggesting?"

Kaecilius' gaze darkened. "I've done some scrying of our 'guest.' His body bears the remnants of a banishment spell—a spell that would expel him permanently from this dimension, blocking his return. All we need to do is activate it."

Mordo's lips curled into a slow, grim smile, his anger finding purpose. He looked Kaecilius in the eye, seeing the same ruthless ambition mirrored there. "I'm listening."

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The Banishment Spell Kaecilius is talking about is the one Dr. Fate cast on Michael. I sense the Rider coming out soon...