Narvik, Norway. A city both familiar and distant to Daniel. Time had passed—over half a century—but not much about the place had changed.
He and Elektra had arrived quietly by sightseeing boat. She leaned against him, as always. Strong-willed though she was, like everyone who had been close to Daniel for long, she found it harder and harder to pull away from him.
Daniel's knowledge of magic came originally from Amora—a seductive enchantress and his teacher during World War II. Though she only taught him basic rune magic, much of her manner and influence had left a permanent mark on him.
Daniel didn't participate deeply in WWII, just in the early stages when the Axis first blitzed through Denmark and Norway. While stationed in Norway, he fought against the British Knights of the Round Table and foreign mages. He lingered in Narvik for some time before relocating to Austria once Operation Barbarossa began and set up a new lab there.
Still, even after leaving, Narvik remained his stronghold for years.
Later, he only returned to battle one last time—during the downfall of the Axis. Even with defeat looming, the Axis tried one final strike, a second blitz on France; this time, it failed. That failure opened the doors for Allied forces to press deep into Axis territory, all the way to Berlin.
Daniel was lucky to survive. He escaped the war's final blow in Narvik and fled deep into the Arctic Sea with the last stash of supplies, eventually reaching a hidden base. That was how he avoided capture by the Allied forces.
But even though he dodged the scourge of WWII, he hadn't escaped Odin's wrath. The All-Father sent a strand of his will, and Daniel was thrown into Jotunheim.
By now, Narvik held nothing important for him. From December to January, the city fell under polar night—weeks of darkness broken only by the glow of auroras in the sky.
It made it easy for Daniel and Elektra to wander undetected through the cold streets. Anyone trying to tail them wouldn't get far—not with Daniel's awareness. He'd sense anyone in an instant.
All his bases in Norway had long been raided and destroyed, whether by the Allies or by S.H.I.E.L.D. (or as they were then called—the Strategic Science Reserve). That was the organization behind Captain America—Steve Rogers being one of many enhanced warriors they developed.
Despite how careful Daniel had been, they'd still found and dismantled every hidden lab—from here to Austria.
So Narvik no longer had any value. Even black market shipments for his secret Arctic operations avoided stopping here. He preferred routing through Iceland or Greenland, where things were quieter.
Those remote islands were magnets for outcasts—criminals, mercenaries, rogue agents, and smugglers. As long as you had cash and firepower, you could get what you needed there.
The farther north you went, the colder and more desolate it became. Even excluding the Arctic itself, the high-latitude zones covered more than 8 million square kilometers. The population was barely more than 20 scattered across remote stations.
Svalbard and Jan Mayen—broken islands between mainland Norway and the Arctic—lay in that no man's land. Their cruise ship had left the Netherlands, traced the Danish and Norwegian coastlines, skirted along Russia's edges, and pushed north to the Arctic. It would soon circle back, stop briefly in Svalbard and Greenland, then sail to Canada for refueling before ending its loop back in Europe.
Daniel had quietly clicked several photos of the breathtaking Arctic coast under the auroras. Nice souvenirs. He'd show them to a few trusted people once back, but none would ever go online. That was too risky.
People assumed not posting online kept them hidden, but the truth was more complex. Even a small slip could unravel an identity.
Daniel's entire backstory had been carefully forged, layer by layer. He had neighbors and childhood stories prepared. On the surface, nothing seemed fake—but the wrong person asking the right question could uncover it all.
That hadn't happened yet because people feared his capabilities. No one dared dig too deeply. And those who might have noticed something wrong had already been silenced or paid off. When asked, they only offered vague memories: "Quiet kid... didn't socialize much... can't remember much else."
Anyone who remembered too clearly would actually raise suspicion.
Besides, Daniel had real friends too—loyal, selected ones from Hydra's network. Dutch Germans who backed his cover from the inside.
During his stopover in the Netherlands, Daniel not only met the Bakshi family, but also touched base with key contacts, reinforcing his identity and eliminating any doubts others might have had.
This Arctic cruise was a break. Daniel and Elektra took time to enjoy the scenery or simply rested in their cabin.
Elektra had finally left her trauma from New York behind. Under Daniel's mentorship, her skills had grown rapidly. He had also come to understand her in ways few ever could.
Physically and spiritually, she was unique.
Her spirit was 'open'—a rare type well-suited for divine possession in ancient times. People like her were born to host powerful entities. Chosen vessels.
Now Daniel understood why the Hand had fixated on her. They weren't looking for any host—they wanted a god-favored one. But they'd never intended to treat the vessel kindly. They'd twist it, control it, ensuring that once the dark entity descended, it would be completely under their command.
In today's world, where magic had all but faded, people like Elektra were exceedingly rare. That's what made her "the one" in the Hand's eyes.
Daniel realized the Hand's long lives likely came from borrowing vitality—stealing it, actually—from others like her.
But such power came with serious catches. You can't steal life without paying for it. Borrowed energy always left behind residue—weak points. The more you took, the more unstable you became.
While others couldn't see this clearly, Daniel could. And worse for the Hand, the weapon Daniel carried—Mjolnir—was perfect for striking directly at those flaws.
From this point forward, the Hand could no longer see Daniel as just another threat.
He was their natural enemy.
As for Kunlun—a mystical force opposed to the Hand—they had long shielded themselves from the outside world. Despite the Hand declaring war on them year after year, they hadn't managed to pierce Kunlun's defenses for centuries.
Eventually, the cruise ship changed course and began heading southwest. Though the northern lights were stunning, the vessel never stayed in the Arctic too long.
After barely a half-day near the ice, it pushed toward Svalbard. There, at the northernmost deep-water port, the ship would rest and resupply—though only minimally. With fewer than 3,000 residents on the island, resources were limited.
Daniel watched the outline of the distant islands gradually sharpen and felt something stir within him.
After the end of WWII, he'd shifted most of his operations to this island. It wasn't quite abandoned back then, but it was remote—just enough for someone who wanted to disappear. He had invested heavily into the construction and transformation of secret facilities here. For three long years, he had lived in almost complete isolation on this island.
Back then, the Cold War was just beginning. Tensions between the U.S. and the Soviets were out in the open. Rumors of nuclear missile tests filled the air. As the Iron Curtain fell, people like Daniel slowly crept back into the shadows.
Even then, few of his allies made it back to Europe or America. Only Daniel dared roam openly. Eventually, he left these icy islands on a quiet mission—heading north into the Arctic, drawn by the Tessaract.
His original idea wasn't to acquire it right away, but to absorb its energy slowly, over decades. By his calculation, the Americans wouldn't stumble across it for another 30 or even 40 years. That was plenty of time to harness its power in secret.
But Odin didn't give him that chance.
He intervened and flung Daniel into Jotunheim without warning and the rest, as they say, was history.