"How long will we be gone?" Tony asked.
"No matter how long it takes, as long as we don't die, we'll return to the exact second after we left," Morin said. "So, do you want to see it? A call for help from a Sorcerer Supreme is rare. When it happens, it means something big-big enough that one person can't handle it."
"Are all Sorcerers Supreme as strong as you?"
"By common sense? Most are weaker than me," Morin waved his hand. "And this is just a help request. It shouldn't be a big deal. Relax."
Morin recalled a passage from Sayings of the Sorcerers Supreme.
[The practice of cross-dimensional assistance has a long history. Over time, it has been optimized-levels of summons, number of responders, threat classification. This prevents everyone from rushing over every time. Acting like a bully once is fine. Doing it all the time isn't. After all, Sorcerers Supreme are a fragile group. On average, none of us are very strong. Maintaining a weak image is important.]
Morin sighed.
It really was good to have many people.
That book was full of messages left by past Sorcerers Supreme. The passage above was considered relatively serious. The others were...
[I just beat Dormammu, and he still wouldn't give me Dark Dimension energy to sustain my life! Despicable! Didn't I sacrifice an angel already?]
[hhhhgysl]
[The truth of magic is melee combat. I refuse all objections. If you can't beat the enemy, switch to a bigger sword. It usually works.]
And more commonly-
[When can I get off work?]
[Is there a reasonable way to quit without finding a successor?]
[Introduction to Slacking Techniques for the Sorcerer Supreme]
Because only Sorcerers Supreme could read that book, the comments were... unfiltered.
Fortunately, Morin adapted quickly.
After meeting the Ancient One and seeing how she operated, he was mentally prepared.
One thing was certain.
Anyone who worked this job long enough only thought about quitting.
And if you wanted to quit but couldn't, you'd naturally find entertainment wherever you could.
From those messages alone, it was clear how strange some of these "slacking salted fish" had been. Sacrificing an angel to Dormammu? Why not sacrifice it to the Lord of Hell instead? That would've been more efficient.
That was someone bold enough to offend two major powers at once.
There were also those who thought they were Gandalf. Those who researched how to slack efficiently.
Honestly, Morin was looking forward to meeting them.
Fellow wage slaves.
Maybe they could exchange experiences.
So he left a message in the book:
[Workers of the worlds, unite! The heart for slacking never stops. The act of lying flat never ends. We have nothing but work. Stay strong, wage slaves!]
As a Sorcerer Supreme of less than a month, Morin could already half-retire. Full retirement would take at most a year.
He wasn't in a rush.
But that didn't stop him from standing with the masses.
Staying grounded mattered.
"All right," Tony said. "Do we need to prepare anything?"
"No. We're going straight there."
Morin spread his hands. A massive surge of magic erupted, forming an extremely complex array. Once completed, the Eye of Agamotto floated from his chest and settled at the center.
"I told you before-this is the Eye of Agamotto," Morin said while continuing to work. "A relic passed down through Sorcerers Supreme. Inside it is an Infinity Stone. It governs time. A manifestation of universal law."
Arrays layered over Morin and Tony.
"This law carries the coordinates of our universe. By matching them with coordinates sent from another universe's Time Stone, we can align dimensions and travel between parallel worlds."
Tony nodded. "But the array you're using doesn't look purely spatial. It feels... defensive."
"Correct," Morin nodded approvingly. "Very sharp. Gold star."
Tony: "..."
That tone again.
"Even with coordinates, breaking through dimensional barriers is extremely dangerous," Morin continued. "So I prepared extra defensive arrays. Just in case."
"...I have a question," Tony said after a pause. "This isn't your first time using this, right?"
"It isn't."
"You've tested it before?"
"Of course."
"...You're not using me as a test subject, are you?"
"Do I look like that kind of person?" Morin asked.
Tony exhaled in relief.
Then Morin added, "You're right. I am that kind of person."
Tony: "!!!"
"Can I back out?" Tony asked.
"Too late. Doors locked. Windows welded shut."
Green light poured from the Eye of Agamotto. It flared, forming a towering pillar that swallowed them and shot into the sky.
...
"Ugh-"
Tony flipped open his faceplate and started vomiting.
"Your physical fitness still isn't good enough," Morin said cheerfully.
"This has nothing to do with fitness!" Tony said weakly. "That was like being thrown into a washing machine for an hour!"
"Fifty-seven minutes and thirty-six seconds," Morin corrected.
He cast a healing spell. Tony finally recovered.
"Why didn't you do that earlier?" Tony asked suspiciously.
"There are two answers. One true. One false. Which do you want?"
"False first."
"I only just remembered I knew that spell."
"And the real one?"
Morin produced a tablet and handed it over.
Tony looked at the screen.
It was a video.
Clear.
Stable.
Of him vomiting.
"...This was the goal?" Tony asked slowly.
"One million dollars. Standard rate. Fair trade," Morin said calmly.
That earlier footage had been sensitive.
This one wasn't.
A classic embarrassment video, freshly delivered.
"Fine," Tony said. "I'll pay when we get back. Mr. Photographer, can we focus now? Where are we?"
"You can't say that," Morin replied. "Selling videos is the focus. As for where we are-we're in a parallel universe."
"Thank you for saying absolutely nothing," Tony said. "Weren't we invited here? Aren't we supposed to save the world?"
"You're welcome," Morin said. "I'm glad you've embraced the hero role so quickly. Now think-why would a Sorcerer Supreme call for help?"
"...Because he's in danger."
"Correct."
Morin pointed upward.
"He's fighting beings from other dimensions up there."
"I knew I forgot something!" Tony exclaimed. "My armor!"
"That was intentional," Morin said. "With armor, it's harder to practice magic. Combine them later."
A luxury car appeared beside them.
"Let's go."
"You're not going to help him?" Tony asked.
"The sky is his battlefield," Morin said. "He's holding off the demon gods, but that ties him down. He called for help because of what's happening on the ground."
He glanced up, then shook his head.
"If I go up now, I'll be exposed. So for the moment, we're just two ordinary tourists."
"...Rich tourists."
"We'll observe first. Then maximize returns."
"Maximize returns..." Tony repeated.
"For invaders, driving them back teaches nothing," Morin said calmly. "Only broken bones, spilled blood, and lost lives leave lasting memories. Ones that gods and demons remember."
He drove on.
"If I don't keep their main force here, then this trip is meaningless."
Tony was silent.
Not because he hadn't thought the same way.
But because Morin's presence had changed.
That aura-domineering, aggressive-was completely different from the easygoing, joking, money-loving photographer he knew.
This felt like the presence of someone truly powerful.
"True strength is knowing when to show it and when to hide it," Morin said. "Keeping that aura up all the time is exhausting. Relax when you can."
He glanced over.
"And stop staring. I like women."
"You're reading my thoughts again!" Tony snapped.
"Then hurry up and learn magic."
No excuses this time.
"Then teach me faster!" Tony said.
"Study first."
Morin waved his hand.
Tony slumped in the passenger seat.
Seatbelt on.
Neck safe.
His consciousness had been sent into the Study Space-one hour equals one week, no fatigue, no hunger, high intensity, high efficiency.
Tony was still a burden.
Especially in situations like this.
Morin drove toward the city.
To ordinary eyes, the weather was oppressive. Windless. Stifling. Like a storm about to break.
To Morin, it was different.
Black mist hung over the city, heavy enough to crush everything. Space itself was distorted, on the verge of collapse. Countless auras moved within-dark, light, chaotic.
Magic surged.
Celebrating the coming war.
"This," Morin murmured, "is what a storm really looks like."
Suddenly, heat flared on his arm.
Morin frowned.
A mark appeared-one he usually forgot existed.
A white dove wing.
If I plucked it and roasted it, it'd probably taste good.
The thought passed.
The heat intensified as he approached the city.
"Angels. Hell. Chaos. So close to collapse..."
Morin cast a masking spell, hiding the mark.
He had suspicions.
If he was right, then this time...
There would be a lot to do.
So-
Enter quietly.
No shooting.