Chapter 226: Chapter 226: The Hammer Falls Part – 2

The desert wind stirred the sand around Arthur’s feet as he stood before the hammer.

“Indeed,” a calm, familiar voice said from his right. “Though I suspect you already knew that.”

Arthur didn’t jump. He didn’t even turn his head. He just smiled.

“Good evening, Sorcerer Supreme. Couldn’t resist coming to see for yourself?”

The Ancient One stepped out of the shadows, her yellow robes fluttering slightly in the desert breeze. She looked at the hammer with a mix of curiosity and weary resignation.

“I sensed something interesting falling from the sky. Curiosity is not exclusively a young person’s trait.” She descended into the crater with graceful steps, stopping beside him. “Though I am more curious about the circumstances. Care to enlighten me?”

Arthur shrugged. “The crown prince of Asgard caused some trouble. Started a war, apparently. His father decided to strip him of his powers and banish him here for a lesson in humility.”

The Ancient One studied the hammer with an unreadable expression. “So the rumors about him are true. The mighty Thor is as impetuous as the stories suggest.”

“Impetuous is putting it kindly. The man has lived for centuries and still acts like a teenager drunk on his first taste of power.” Arthur shook his head. “His brother might be worse. Loki’s the type to smile while sliding a knife between your ribs.”

“Charming family.”

“Absolutely delightful. Can’t wait to meet them properly.”

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, two masters of magic contemplating an artifact that predated both their traditions.

“The universe will not be peaceful going forward,” the Ancient One observed.

“No. It won’t.” Arthur’s jaw tightened. “Which brings me to my recurring complaint: why is Earth always the testing ground for these cosmic tantrums? Are we just a playground for higher beings?”

“It has always been this way. Earth is young, vital, full of potential. That makes us interesting.” She paused. “And vulnerable.”

“It makes us collateral damage,” Arthur corrected. “They could at least have the decency to ask before staging their dramas here.”

“They have earned their arrogance through strength and millennia of rule,” she said, though her tone suggested she didn’t entirely disagree. “And we are in no position to demand permits from the King of Asgard. Not without risking a war we cannot win.”

Arthur looked at the hammer, his eyes narrowing. “Do you think I could take him? Odin, I mean. As I am now.”

The Ancient One turned to study him. Her gaze swept over his aura—the blend of wizardry, mystic arts, ancient magic, and the quiet, burning power of chi.

“Perhaps,” she admitted. “In his prime, during the wars of unification? You would have been dust before you finished casting a spell. But he is old now, Arthur. His strength is fading, poured into the preservation of his realm. If you fought him today…” She tilted her head. “It would be close. I would not bet against you.”

“Fair enough.” Arthur returned his attention to Mjolnir. “Then gaining more strength remains the priority.”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” she asked knowingly. “You don’t care about the hammer. You care about the magic inside it.”

“Guilty.” Arthur didn’t bother denying it. “I’ve hit a ceiling. Earth’s magic—I’ve learned what I can. The Mystic Arts, wizard magic, chi cultivation… I need something different. Something from a higher tier. Asgardian magic is the next step.”

“Be careful, Arthur. Knowledge is a hunger that is never satisfied.”

“I’m not hungry for power,” Arthur said gently. “I need to be stronger for what’s coming. I refuse to be living a quiet life one moment and dead the next because some higher being threw a tantrum.”

“An ambitious goal.”

“I prefer ’inevitable.’” He glanced at her sideways. “Should I use the Eye of Agamotto? Check whether my interference here causes problems? I don’t want to accidentally ruin Thor’s redemption arc by being too clever.”

The Ancient One’s lips quirked. “The Eye is in Kamar-Taj if you want it. There are no restrictions on its use for you. But you know why I advise against it.”

“Because it becomes a crutch,” Arthur recited. “I know. But you have to admit, it makes life easier.”

“Too easy,” she agreed. “However, relying on prophecy blinds you to the present. You begin to treat people as chess pieces rather than living beings. It creates distance.”

“I’m already distant,” Arthur murmured. “It’s the burden of knowing how things end.”

He looked at her, a thought occurring to him. “Speaking of changes… I’ve been worried about Strange. With some of the medical technology I’ve helped develop, he might never need to seek out Kamar-Taj. Have I accidentally derailed his journey?”

The Ancient One’s smile returned, knowing and slightly mysterious. “You worry too much.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it remains true.” She began walking toward the crater’s edge. “Fate has ways of ensuring certain things remain on their proper path. Stephen Strange is meant for the Arts. He will come to Kamar-Taj when he is meant to. Your actions have not changed that.”

“So I don’t need to sabotage his treatment to force him toward other options?” Arthur asked, only half-joking.

“Please don’t,” she said dryly. “That would cause more problems than it solves.”

Arthur chuckled. “Fair enough. I’ll trust the universe.”

He looked back at the hammer. “Do you want to try lifting it? ’Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor.’”

The Ancient One paused, glancing back at Mjolnir with something that might have been amusement.

“I am far too old for such games. The politics of Asgard hold no interest for me.” She began to fade, her form becoming translucent. “Enjoy your adventure, Arthur. And do visit Kamar-Taj when this is finished. The students have been asking about you. Wong especially seems to miss you.”

“Wong just misses the music I bring him.”

“That too.” Her smile widened. “Oh, and Kaecilius. You might want to speak with him soon. Things are… shifting.”

Before Arthur could ask what that meant, she was gone.

He stood alone in the crater, the desert wind tugging at his clothes.

“Cryptic as always,” he muttered.

—

Arthur turned back to Mjolnir.

He’d been wondering about this for years. Ever since he first learned of the hammer’s enchantment – whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor – he’d wondered if he would qualify.

He wasn’t Steve Rogers. He wasn’t some paragon of selfless virtue who never entertained a dark thought. But he had sacrificed. He had protected the innocent. He had built something meaningful with his life beyond the mere pursuit of power.

Was that enough?

Only one way to find out.

Arthur approached the hammer and studied it more closely. As he did, he noticed something that hadn’t been apparent from a distance.

There were two layers of enchantment.

The first was ancient. So old and intricate that Arthur couldn’t begin to decipher it. But wrapped around that original spell like a secondary skin was something newer. Something added recently, within the past day or two.

This layer, Arthur could read.

It was a lock. And a temporary restriction ensuring that only Thor could lift the hammer. The enchantment was tied to the bindings Odin had placed on his son’s powers before the banishment – a failsafe to ensure the key to Thor’s redemption wouldn’t fall into someone else’s hands.

Clever. Odin wanted his son to earn his way back, not have some stranger claim the prize first.

As for the original enchantment actually granting Thor’s power to a worthy wielder? Arthur had his doubts. Thor’s strength came from his divine bloodline, his Asgardian physiology. No hammer, however magical, could truly bestow that upon a mortal. The worthiness enchantment likely granted access to Mjolnir’s own abilities but not Thor’s innate godhood.

Still, Arthur reached down and grasped the handle.

Nothing happened. The hammer remained immovable, locked to the earth.

Arthur released it and straightened, unsurprised but still faintly disappointed.

Without Odin’s recent additions, he was fairly confident he could have lifted Mjolnir. He might not be a pure-hearted hero, but he possessed the qualities the original enchantment sought – the heart of a ruler, the will to protect, the wisdom to lead.

Certainly more than Thor currently possessed.

But the protections were in place, and Arthur wasn’t here to steal anyone’s hammer. He was here to make connections. To gain knowledge. To open the door to Asgard that had remained stubbornly closed for over a decade.

He circled the hammer once more, memorizing every detail of its construction. The Uru metal. The runic patterns. The dimensional anchors connecting it to its home realm. He couldn’t fully comprehend most of what he was seeing, but that was precisely the point.

Someday, he would understand. Someday, he would have access to the libraries and sorcerers of Asgard, and all of this would become clear.

Patience. Planning. Persistence.

The same approach that had brought him this far.

—

Arthur stepped back from the crater, satisfied with his initial observations.

By tomorrow morning, S.H.I.E.L.D. would detect the impact and establish a perimeter. The whole carnival of events he’d been waiting for would begin.

But there was no need to rush. The key moments were still ahead, and Arthur wanted to be rested when they arrived.

He took one last look at Mjolnir, gleaming faintly under the stars.

“See you soon,” he said quietly.

Then he Apparated home, to his sleeping children and his patient wife, back to the quiet life that would soon become very complicated indeed.

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