When he heard the Ancient One declare that he was immune to magic, Loren felt like swearing—but he bit the words back.
After all, even the Supreme Master has pride, and she couldn't be insulted lightly. Their relationship was relatively harmonious for now, but if he started cursing, who knew what consequences might follow?
Still, the Ancient One's blunt assessment hit him hard.
A magic insulator? What a despairing verdict.
That was tantamount to cutting off any possibility of learning magic from the very start!
But that didn't make sense.
Even if his physiology was subpar, it was impossible for him to have zero magical aptitude. Being completely severed from magic was clearly abnormal.
The only explanation he could think of was his super-dimensional technology system.
After all, the system's goal was to mold him into this world's god of technology—and the path of science stood in stark opposition to that of magic.
Sure, cultivating both magic and technology sounded impressive.
But one can't have both fish and bear's paw. Trying to master both would stretch him too thin and hinder his ascension as a techno-deity.
So the system had simply eliminated the distraction, forcing him to focus solely on science.
Once he pieced it together, Loren was still frustrated—but there was nothing to do but accept it.
One should be content with what one has. Wanting everything might feel good in theory, but it wasn't realistic.
After all, not everyone could be his woman. He couldn't have his way with everything—front, back, and sideways. There's no such thing as a free lunch!
But just because he couldn't use magic didn't mean his allies couldn't.
He immediately turned to the Ancient One. "Master, since I lack a magical constitution, so be it. But surely not all of my companions are unsuitable?"
Ancient One—understood his intent at once. Her eyes swept over the assembled women, assessing each in turn.
After a moment, she shook her head. "I'm sorry. None of them show any affinity for magic."
"Not a single one out of all these people?"
Loren had suspected magical talent was rare, but not this rare.
2B and A2 were artificial lifeforms—transcendent beings forged beyond natural laws—yet even they couldn't channel magic. That spoke volumes about just how stringent magic's physical requirements truly were.
No wonder Stephen Strange was so exceptional.
"Yes," Ancient One confirmed calmly. "Not one. You shouldn't be surprised."
"In this vast world," she continued, "only one in ten thousand can even begin to walk the path of magic. And of those, eight or nine are merely average. If everyone could wield magic, sorcerers wouldn't have spent centuries guarding its secrets."
Her tone held no judgment—only quiet certainty.
Loren sighed. There was no point arguing.
But then his gaze drifted to Mjölnir—Thor's hammer—resting nearby.
His expression turned serious. "Master, if we're not destined for magic, I won't force it. But if I ever find someone with true potential… would you be willing to take them as your disciple?"
His real purpose in coming here had been to study Mjölnir—and, more specifically, to extract a sample of Uru metal.
In his understanding, Uru was the substance in the cosmos most attuned to magical energy. By fusing it with his cutting-edge life-science tech, he hoped to engineer a nano-Uru lifeform—a synthetic being inherently compatible with magic.
Even if his creations failed, he still had Wanda. The future Scarlet Witch possessed a constitution brimming with magical potential. Under Ancient One's personal tutelage, her power could reach unimaginable heights.
So this request was non-negotiable.
The Ancient One studied him for a long moment—her eyes knowing, almost amused—then gave a slow, silent nod. A promise.
"Don't worry," she said at last. "If you bring me a true candidate, I will teach her to the best of my ability. I do not break my word."
Loren bowed slightly. "Thank you, Master."
Then, with wide, innocent eyes, he added, "By the way… do you happen to have any magical artifacts that non-mages can use? I'm just a frail scholar, after all—bound to run into danger sooner or later. A simple enchanted item for self-defense would be a lifesaver. And honestly? I'm fascinated by magic. Who knows—maybe studying it could lead to a breakthrough!"
Ancient One's lips twitched.
Frail? The man who'd reverse-engineered alien biotech and built androids from scratch called himself weak?
She saw right through him: a capitalist to the core, determined to pluck every feather from a passing goose. If she didn't give him something, he'd hound her endlessly.
With a resigned sigh, she flicked her wrist. A golden ring materialized in midair and floated toward Loren.
"This is a trinket of my own making," she said. "No magic required—just focus your will, and it responds."
"It can cloak your presence, manipulate small objects remotely, emit minor elemental bursts, or even form a basic shield. But its power is limited, and the enchantments will fade once the stored energy is spent. I'll need to recharge it periodically, so use it wisely."
"A ring that grants invisibility?" Loren gasped. "Good heavens—is this the One Ring?"
"The what?" Ancient One blinked. "I never named it. Call it whatever you like."
She turned away. "It's late. I'll take my leave."
With a wave, a shimmering portal opened before her. She stepped through without hesitation—and vanished.
A heartbeat later, another portal burst open nearby—and a disheveled figure tumbled out, crashing onto the floor.
It was Loki.
"An hour!" he groaned, scrambling to his feet. "I've been falling for a whole hour, you bald—"
He froze mid-rant.
Standing around him, arms cros
sed and eyes icy, were Loren's entire entourage of women.
Loki's bravado evaporated instantly.
"…Eh?"
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