Stark Tower, top floor.

Sebastian stood before the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing at New York’s glittering skyline, a soft hum of admiration escaping his lips.

Tony approached, carrying two glasses. He handed Sebastian one filled with soda water, then took a sip of the amber whiskey in his own. After a gulp of soda, Sebastian said, “The view here is incredible, but I’m guessing this tower—especially the top floor—isn’t just about the scenery, is it?”

Tony grinned, nodding. “You know me—mediocrity’s not my style. Unlike Hammer Industries, always trailing in my shadow with their knockoffs. Their weapons? Junk. Slow to sell, riddled with flaws.”

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head. “Hammer Industries is a military contractor now. Isn’t it a bit risky to trash-talk them?”

Shrugging, Tony downed his whiskey and set the glass aside. “Let’s not waste breath on them. At the Stark Expo in two weeks, you’ll see how laughable Hammer’s ‘innovations’ are. But here’s the thing—I’m starting to suspect he’s tied to Obadiah. How else could he claim to have tech rivaling my arc reactor core? At the last military briefing, I shut him down, yet he’s got the pull to spring Obadiah from federal prison. Something’s off.”

Sebastian set his glass down, his tone serious. “Do you have proof?”

Tony sighed, shaking his head. “Not yet, or I’d have already exposed him. Anyway, enough of that. Let me show you something cool. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s director, Fury, sent it over—something my dad left behind. After digging into it, I found something wild. If I pull this off, it’ll fix my palladium poisoning and give me a cleaner, more efficient energy core.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, suspecting what it was.

Sure enough, Tony snapped his fingers, and JARVIS projected a holographic blue atomic structure, glowing softly. “This is the new element’s structure. It’s got way more juice than palladium, and it’s clean. Once I synthesize it, my poisoning is history.”

Seeing Tony on the verge of solving his palladium issue, Sebastian felt a wave of relief. “Congrats, Tony. No more worrying about your lifespan.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, smirking. “But I owe you, Sebastian. Your potions bought me time, eased the pain. Without that, I wouldn’t have made it this far. Thanks.”

“No need to get sappy,” Sebastian teased. “If you’re really grateful, how about lending me a lab to work on something?”

Tony’s curiosity sparked. “What’re you making? Another potion?”

“Not a potion,” Sebastian replied. “I’m crafting a new wand.”

“A wand!” Tony exclaimed, intrigued.

Tony sighed, his face alight with curiosity. His Mark Ω anti-magic armor was still a rough blueprint, and he’d long wanted to enlist Sebastian’s help to build it. But he’d hesitated. In Tony’s mind, mages were enigmatic, and though Sebastian seemed approachable, magic might bring unforeseen complications. He’d been mulling over how to broach the subject.

Now, hearing Sebastian mention crafting a new wand, Tony’s excitement and boldness surged, prompting him to seize the moment.

“Sebastian, no problem with the lab space,” he said. “I told you before—this tower’s your place for potion brewing and magic research. I’ll provide any tech you need. Modern science can’t do everything magic can, but it’ll boost your work. Feel free to use the facilities. That said, I’ve got a small favor to ask.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A small favor? Your tone suggests it’s bigger than that.”

Tony smirked. “Maybe a tad bigger. JARVIS, show him the Omega plan.”

JARVIS projected a holographic screen before Sebastian, displaying the Mark Ω project files and rough schematics.

Scanning the documents, Sebastian grasped the scope of Tony’s “small favor.”

“Mark Ω Anti-Magic Armor?” he said, impressed. “Tony, you don’t think small.”

“Exactly,” Tony replied. “I need a mage’s expertise, and you’re the only one I know.”

Tony watched Sebastian cautiously, unsure if he’d agree. If not, the project would stall.

After studying the files, Sebastian nodded thoughtfully. “Tony, most mages couldn’t help with this, even if they wanted to. But my magic system is different—it’s perfectly suited for this. The Mark Ω armor? It’s meant to be built by us together.”

“So, you’re in?” Tony asked, barely containing his excitement.

“I’m in,” Sebastian confirmed. “But first, I need to craft my new wand. Without it, helping you will be tough.”

The hum of lasers filled the lab as Sebastian watched the oak wand core secured on the workbench. Under JARVIS’s precise control, lasers etched ancient runes and magical circuits into the polished interior of the wand body, working over ten times faster than Sebastian could by hand.

“I told you,” Tony said, leaning against a console, “tech might not solve all magic’s mysteries, but for wand-making? It’s a game-changer.”

Sebastian nodded, eyeing the nearly finished carvings. “You’re right, Tony. Tech and magic both unravel the universe’s secrets, and they can complement each other. Beyond potions, we could collaborate more in the future.”

Their conversation paused as the first phase of wand-crafting wrapped up. Sebastian retrieved the intricately etched wand body and began the next steps: oiling and drying it. Instead of moving to the wand core, he gathered various metals for secondary modifications.

For his second wand, Sebastian had bold ideas. Without compromising its function, he aimed to enhance its durability—strong enough to resist being snapped by hand—and enchant it to return to him if separated within a certain range. These upgrades would thwart attempts to sabotage or steal the wand. Against truly powerful foes, such tricks wouldn’t be needed; they’d face him directly.

The wand’s exterior bore no visible runes or circuits, reserved for the grip where Sebastian’s hand would rest. The tip and midsection featured only faint, interwoven magical circuits, resembling subtle patterns. The runes at the grip supported his planned enchantments.

With Tony’s help, Sebastian measured and melted metals and materials, forging a magic-conductive alloy for a handle. Once the wand core was inserted, the handle would seal it permanently.

As the alloy handle cooled, Sebastian turned to the dragon heart. When he opened the charmed satchel and revealed the half-human-sized heart, Tony’s jaw dropped. Though he’d accepted magic, dragons were a leap.

Sebastian carefully extracted heartstrings from the heart at the workbench, while Tony glanced at the large jar of dark red dragon blood nearby. “Since meeting you,” Tony said, shaking his head, “my view of the world keeps getting flipped. If you showed me a god one day, I might not even blink.”

Sebastian paused, a wry smile crossing his face. “A god? You might run into one on your own someday, no introduction needed.”

Tony laughed, taking it as a jest. But sometimes, truth is mistaken for a joke, and Tony was no exception.

A faint snap echoed as Sebastian carefully extracted a white, sinewy strand from the dragon’s heart, resembling a blend of tendon and nerve. This was the dragon heartstring—a vital wand core.

Feeling the raw power pulsing within it, Sebastian marveled quietly. Dragons in this world dwarfed those from his past life’s memories.

Those were mere magical beasts, lacking intellect, while these were nearly a sentient race, far stronger and distinct. Fortunately, their anatomy was similar enough for him to locate the heartstring; otherwise, it would’ve been impossible.

“Is that another key part of the wand?” Tony asked, his eyes brimming with curiosity.

Sebastian nodded. “Exactly. The dragon heartstring is the wand’s core. Once I process it and set it into the wand body, the wand will be complete.”

Time was critical for the heartstring.

Sebastian wasted none, using pre-prepared potions and charms to refine it into a supple, white spiral structure. He delicately inserted the processed heartstring into the wand body.

Fine, hair-like tendrils extended from it, weaving into the synapses of the inner magical circuits and ancient runes. A closed magical circuit formed, marking the initial fusion’s success.

With a relieved exhale, Sebastian sealed the wand body and attached the cooled magic-conductive alloy handle. Using a charm and precise technique, he fused it seamlessly, completing the wand.

Holding it in both hands, Sebastian examined it closely. Its details surged into his mind: thirteen and a half inches, crafted from a 12,000-year-old oak with a dragon heartstring core, embodying durability, victory, strength, and authority.

The dragon heartstring’s fierce energy, tamed by the oak’s ancient serenity, balanced the wand perfectly. It amplified both dark and light magic exceptionally, with a stronger affinity for dark spells like Crucio or Sectumsempra.

Even its light magic support, though less pronounced, surpassed his previous wand’s capabilities.

Most crucially, the wand’s nature aligned flawlessly with Sebastian’s magic, promising perfect synergy with every spell he cast.

Sebastian gazed at the wand in his hand, his fingers wrapping around the handle.

Crafted to fit his palm perfectly, the grip felt natural, almost an extension of himself. He sensed faint magical threads, like unseen veins, flowing from the wand into his hand, bonding with his very being.

The new wand amplified his power significantly, granting finer control over his magic. The most striking improvement was in his Transfiguration Charm. Where he once struggled to reshape complex or resilient materials like metal or steel, he could now transform them with ease.

This world’s rules differed from those of his past life, subtly altering his magic. Most spells, like Sectumsempra or Crucio, had grown stronger, but a few, including the Transfiguration Charm, were weaker. Here, an object’s resistance to change depended on its inherent properties—soft materials morphed easily, while harder ones, like steel, resisted fiercely.

Moreover, the Transfiguration Charm couldn’t penetrate an object to alter its internal components. When facing Obadiah’s Iron Monger, Sebastian couldn’t simply reshape the suit’s outer shell or internal gears; he’d had to fight directly. The charm targeted an object’s form, not its essence—a limit beyond basic transfiguration.

As for human transfiguration, that was another challenge entirely. Sebastian’s current skill couldn’t manage it; his magical strength fell short.

The differences between worlds’ magical rules could be frustratingly intricate, but Sebastian was learning to adapt.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep