After receiving confirmation from the Ancient One, Wanda was now allowed to read the second volume of the Darkhold—including learning all the spells recorded within it.
In the Ancient One's view, the only remaining factor that could cause Wanda's Chaos Magic to spiral out of control was Karl. He was both her greatest weakness and her most untouchable reverse scale.
The three of them sat quietly, each absorbed in their books, as time slipped by unnoticed.
—
New York, inside an unnamed church.
Several figures in mage robes stood atop the platform. Not far from them lay a man dressed as a priest, blood pooling beneath him.
Standing at the pulpit, Kaecilius casually tossed aside a Bible from the shelf and unfurled a scroll in his hands.
Several pages were attached to it, filled with ancient script, intricate magic circles, and a symbol composed of multiple interlocking arcs.
Kaecilius raised his hand and used magic to recreate the symbol in midair. Then, together with the others, he began chanting according to the instructions on the page.
Soon, a miniature version of that symbol appeared on each of their foreheads. Their eyes began to glow with a strange light, and the whites of their eyes gradually turned gray.
Suddenly, Dormammu's face appeared in Kaecilius's mind—a shifting, wave-like visage as deep as endless darkness, with only a pair of cold, gleaming eyes visible within it.
It was clear that Dormammu had noticed Kaecilius's summons—and had granted them his dark power.
Kaecilius smiled faintly. With a casual wave of his hand, the entire church began to disassemble and reconstruct itself—twisting and folding like building blocks, just as the Ancient One had once done.
Previously, this had been beyond Kaecilius's ability.
Now, it was as effortless as breathing.
—
Back at Kamar-Taj, in the courtyard.
After a period of adjustment, Strange was finally able to study magic with a calm mind.
He practiced alongside the other apprentices, attempting to construct spells. But another flaw soon revealed itself—his lack of confidence in his own hands.
Whenever he tried to form magic, he would unconsciously hesitate, worrying that his hands might fail him, might disrupt the spell. Because of this, he couldn't even form the most basic magical runes—let alone anything more advanced.
The Ancient One saw everything but did nothing.
This was a step Strange had to go through. He had already changed his understanding of the world and magic—now, all he lacked was confidence.
In recent days, Strange had become a regular in the library. He borrowed books constantly, reading everything he could get his hands on. By now, he had even picked up several languages—not enough to converse fluently, but more than enough to read and write.
—
"The Sling Ring is essential to daily life in Kamar-Taj. It allows us to travel freely across space—and even across universes."
That day, Mordo stood in the courtyard, teaching everyone how to open portals with Sling Rings. Each apprentice had been given one—including Strange.
"What you need to do is focus. Visualize your destination clearly in your mind. Then render it as an image. Don't limit yourself to what you see before you—imagine the details. The more vivid the image, the easier it will be to open a portal."
Mordo paced among the apprentices, hands behind his back.
Most of them could already produce the initial sparks that formed the circular gateway—except for a few.
Strange was one of those exceptions.
In front of him, only a few scattered sparks flickered. He couldn't even sustain them, let alone form a ring. The more he failed, the more anxious he became—and the more anxious he became, the less he succeeded.
Mordo saw everything—but under the Ancient One's orders, he couldn't help. He could only watch as Strange grew increasingly frustrated.
—
In a corner of the courtyard, the Ancient One stood beside Karl, both observing Strange.
"Karl, do you think the time has come?"
She turned to him, as if seeking his opinion.
Karl considered for a moment. After observing Strange over these past days, he had indeed changed significantly. He had become calmer, more composed. His former arrogance and flippancy had faded.
Only a trace of impatience remained.
"Aside from being a bit anxious—and his fixation on his hands—he's reached the level of an average mage."
Karl spoke with unusual seriousness, his usual laid-back demeanor nowhere to be seen.
"I see."
The Ancient One nodded. She too had noticed that Strange still fixated on his hands. There was nothing wrong with caring—but it had become a barrier.
If he couldn't overcome this inner demon, his magic would never progress beyond theory. No amount of reading would help.
"Master Camille, please come here."
With a casual wave, the Ancient One formed a spell and spoke into it.
Soon, Master Camille arrived.
"Ancient One."
He stood with his hands tucked within his wide sleeves.
The moment Karl saw him, he understood—this was the mage from the movie who had lost his hands. It seemed the Ancient One believed Strange was ready.
Karl sighed softly but said nothing more. He knew she had made her decision.
The Ancient One heard his sigh, but only smiled. This was her choice—and she had no regrets.
Seeing her arrive, Mordo immediately halted the training.
"Ancient One."
He bowed slightly.
"Mordo, I need to speak with Mr. Strange alone."
The Ancient One stepped forward. The other apprentices quickly dispersed, leaving Strange behind.
"You see, Ancient One… because of my hands, I can barely construct any magic. I can't even manage the simplest spells."
Strange spoke dejectedly. His hands trembled visibly—though they had improved over the past months, the shaking remained uncontrollable. The nerves had been severed and reconnected; the tendons could heal, but the nerves would never fully recover.
"This has nothing to do with your hands, Mr. Strange."
The Ancient One replied immediately. She knew—this was his inner demon.
"How can it have nothing to do with them?! Look at the others—their hands are fine. They form spells effortlessly. But me…"
He raised his hands. They shook uncontrollably, scars clearly visible.
"Master Camille."
The Ancient One turned toward the robed mage.
Camille stepped forward and extended his arms.
His wrists ended abruptly—he had no hands at all.
Strange stared in shock.
And then, right before his eyes, Master Camille began to construct a magical rune.
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