The morning routine at the house unfolded smoothly.
Jean was the last to leave the greenhouse. She spent ten minutes with Indominus. She did not give instructions or train him. Instead, she simply shared the space while he explored the eastern panels. She gently extended her telepathy toward him. She was careful to keep the connection light—just enough to sense any big mood change or distress, but not enough to feel as if she was watching him without his consent.
Indominus did not register the thread. He continued investigating the eastern panels.
Jean left the greenhouse, closed the door, and joined the others at the departure point. Raven was already using the sling ring, forming circles of light with the steady skill that came from months of practice. The portal to Kamar-Taj opened smoothly, without the struggle it had taken in the beginning.
Thori looked at the portal.
"That is a door?" Thori questioned.
"It is," Ethan agreed.
Thori walked through it.
---
The Ancient One waited in Kamar-Taj's main courtyard when they arrived. Ethan had learned this meant she already knew they were coming. She greeted them calmly, used to visitors arriving through portals so often that it no longer felt unexpected.
Ethan addressed her directly.
"Kun-Lun," he said. "Do you know the way to its entrance, and can you get us close?"
She gave him the focused look she used when considering more than just words. "I know the way," she said. "I can open a portal to the mountain approach." She glanced at the rest of the group—Raven, Jean, Rogue, Ilyana, Thori—taking stock. "Entry isn't mine to give. The city's guardians decide that. They take it seriously. What happens at the gate is up to you and them."
"That will not be a problem," Ethan said.
She studied him for a moment, weighing his confidence against her own judgment. Whatever she saw seemed to satisfy her.
She opened the portal without further comment.
The cold hit them first—a sharp, clear chill of high altitude in late June, nothing like the morning in Westchester they had just left. The portal opened straight into mountain air, and up here, the season below didn't matter.
They stepped through.
---
The path was narrow, and the rocks on either side were old.
This was shaped by millions of years of pressure. It was untouched by human hands—no tool marks, no cut edges, no signs of upkeep. Its grey color was from altitude, exposure, and time. The surface was worn by the weather alone. Far below, the mountain dropped thousands of meters to a valley floor barely visible through the haze.
Above them, the path continued toward a rock wall where the mountain simply ended the route.
Rogue looked at the drop. Then on the path. Then at Ethan.
"I want to be clear that I'm fine," Rogue said, "and also that this path is extremely narrow."
"That it is," Ethan replied.
"Just noting it."
Jean studied the rock wall ahead. She quietly extended her telepathy, reading the environment instead of a person. What she sensed wasn't ordinary stone—it felt like a boundary, not a dead end. There was something behind it, even though it looked like a solid mountain. She kept this to herself and watched.
Thori sniffed the mountain air with his usual careful attention, cataloging and assessing everything new. He didn't sense anything suspicious, so his ears stayed relaxed and his walk remained calm.
They walked up.
---
Ten meters from the wall, the guards stepped forward.
The guards had been hidden along the rock face, out of sight until the group got close. Two men in Kun-Lun's traditional clothing stood with the stillness of those always ready. They stepped into the center of the path without rushing.
The guards took their time looking over the group. They studied each person carefully. Their training let them sense intent. Years of practice told them the group meant no harm. There was no malice toward the city, Shou-Lao, or anything Kun-Lun protected.
The senior guard looked at Ethan.
"The tradition requires a test," he said. "Intent is not sufficient. Worthiness is demonstrated, not felt." His voice was measured and carried no apology for the position. "Face us. If you can, the gate opens. If not, you return the way you came."
Ethan looked at both of them. He respected the framework and agreed without hesitation.
The guards gave a single nod.
Both of them moved.
---
The coordination was immediate and complete.
They had trained together so long that they didn't need to speak. They moved as one. Their actions were perfectly coordinated from years of practice. The senior guard attacked from the left while the junior went low on the right. Their strikes overlapped, leaving no easy way to defend against both at once.
None of it reached Ethan.
He didn't block or use any counter moves. He just stayed present, making small, calm adjustments—shifting his position or weight just enough to avoid every attack. The guards' strikes landed where he had just been, hitting only empty air.
The guards stepped up their efforts, as professionals do. They changed angles, adjusted their timing, and tried combinations that had worked on everyone else before. Their teamwork stayed sharp. Still, nothing got through to him.
After five minutes, the guards were breathing harder. They weren't exhausted—their training was too good—but they worked hard at a test that wasn't getting anywhere.
The senior guard stepped back. The junior followed his lead.
"Will you demonstrate offense," the senior guard asked, "or only defense?"
Ethan met their eyes. "I could," he answered. "I would prefer not to demonstrate it on either of you."
The guard held his gaze. "Show us."
Ethan turned to a section of mountain rock to the right of the gate—a part of the cliff that didn't matter. He faced it, drew back, and held back most of his strength, using only a small fraction of his usual power.
He punched the rock.
The force of the punch sent compressed air ahead of his fist. It hit the rock at the same time as his hand. A section about the size of a large room—twenty meters of cliff—broke apart instantly. The rock turned to rubble and dust. The sound echoed down the mountain, and the dust spread slowly in the air.
The silence that followed the sound was complete.
Both guards looked at what had been a section of mountain and was now an absence. Then they looked at Ethan.
Thori looked at the rubble and then at Ethan.
"Good hit," Thori remarked.
The senior guard turned back to Ethan.
He was clearly rethinking things, and it showed. After years at this gate and testing hundreds, he had never seen anything like this. His reaction was honest and unguarded.
"That is sufficient," he said.
He stepped aside.
The rock wall—the gate that had looked like a solid mountain—opened. It didn't swing or slide; it just became passable, like a sealed room turning back into a room when the door opens. Now they could see what was behind it.
Kun-Lun.
---
Ethan already knew the dragon was there. He hadn't told the others. It was not to surprise them for no reason. Shou-Lao the Undying was so central to Kun-Lun that mentioning it ahead of time would have made it less special. He wanted them to experience it first without warning.
The group moved to the threshold.
Beyond the gate, the city stretched out, with its dense, thoughtful layout, a place built over centuries. The streets were busy, and the sounds—voices, footsteps, and the unique echoes of a mountain city—reached them where they stood.
Beneath all the noise, there was something else—not a sound, but a presence. It was huge, ancient, and patient in a way only something that had existed for ages could be. Before Jean consciously recognized it, her telepathy detected its aura—a vast, living consciousness distinct from the human minds around her. She went very still, centering herself as realization dawned on her about what she was sensing.
Raven led the group, her face showing open interest—a rare sight for her. The usual careful mask was gone, replaced by real curiosity. She looked at the city ahead and was clearly moved.
Rogue was wide-eyed. She was not going to say so, but she was.
Ilyana watched the city with her usual alertness in new places. For someone who had ruled Limbo, faced Belasco, and rarely showed surprise, her focused attention made it clear this was something special.
Thori stood at the threshold and put his nose into the city's air.
"It smells interesting," Thori commented.
For Thori, that was the highest compliment. With the city ahead, the dragon still a surprise, and Ethan realizing that seeing his girls experience Kun-Lun for the first time was a reward in itself.
---
Earth — somewhere in the landscape, Heimdall considered an acceptable landing point:
The Bifrost deposited them in a field.
It was a decent field—flat, open, and free of obstacles. Heimdall had done his job by getting them to the planet. Now, it was up to the group to handle whatever came next.
Thor began walking immediately, in a direction he had selected with complete confidence.
Amora cast the locating spell. The thread she sensed pointed in a different direction than the one Thor had chosen. She quietly started walking the right way, trusting Thor would notice and follow.
He did, almost right away. Thor saw the group wasn't behind him, noticed Amora moving with purpose, and changed direction without needing an explanation. For him, any direction was fine, so he followed.
Loki walked next to him.
The spell pointed northeast, pulling toward Thori with the certainty of magic that had found its target. Amora had done the spell right—there was no question about her skill, whatever her reasons for using it.
Thor looked at the landscape around them.
"I hope we find powerful people here," he announced, to the group and the field simultaneously. "A worthy opponent would be excellent."
He meant it. Thor shared his hopes honestly, without filtering them, because it never occurred to him to do otherwise.
Loki looked at him briefly.
"We are looking for the hellhound," he said. "Not a tournament."
"These things are not in conflict," Thor said, completely confident. He had never seen them as opposites and didn't expect that to change.
Loki did not argue with this because it was technically true. He simply walked.
Amora led the way. The spell pointed northeast, steady as a compass needle—toward Westchester, New York, though none of them knew the name or the house it was leading to, or the people inside who didn't yet know visitors were coming.