Marvel: Ned the Master of Mystic Arts

"Hey, Ned, how are you feeling?"

After pouring a bowl of bitter medicine down Ned's throat, Wong placed the bowl on the bedside table and eagerly awaited Ned's response.

"I… thank you…"

Ned stared blankly at the ceiling, his voice devoid of energy.

"Ah, come on, don't say that. What's all this 'thank you' nonsense between us? You're being too formal."

Wong chuckled and continued, "I'll take the bowl away and let everyone know you've woken up. You just rest up, alright?"

With that, Wong briskly stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

As soon as Wong left, Ned wiped away the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. They weren't just because of the bitter medicine—no, most of his sorrow was due to the destruction of his beloved cloak. The bitterness of the medicine was merely the trigger.

Yes, that's it. It had to be.

"Ned! Ned!"

Mordo burst into the room, dragging Wong along. The sight that greeted them was of Ned, clutching a tattered piece of red fabric, utterly heartbroken. The three of them exchanged glances, silence filling the air.

"As an enchanted artifact, protecting its master was its purpose and duty. Trust me, when it perished, its soul left with a smile."

Wong stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Ned's shoulder as he spoke in a solemn tone.

"I know," Ned replied, carefully storing the torn fabric away. He then turned to Wong and Mordo. "What about the girl I brought back? Her situation is a bit unusual—did she cause any trouble?"

"Hmph!"

Mordo's expression darkened immediately. He scoffed, saying, "The energy inside that girl is bizarre, clearly not something natural. How could you bring her to the Sanctum? Such recklessness!"

Ned blinked in confusion, glancing at Wong for clarity.

"Mordo's just grumpy because the girl gave him a hard time earlier," Wong whispered, leaning closer to Ned.

But, of course, in a room full of sorcerers, no whisper could go unheard.

"Wong! Stick to the issue at hand—don't bring up personal matters!" Mordo snapped, his face darkening further, though his tone betrayed his lack of confidence.

As it turned out, when Ned opened a portal directly to the Ancient One's doorstep, Wong and Mordo happened to be present.

Mordo was already upset that someone dared to open a portal at such a sacred place, deeming it disrespectful. But before he could confront the intruder, Ned tumbled through the portal, collapsing in a heap. Worse still, Wanda, startled by the teleportation, accidentally unleashed a burst of chaos magic that sent Mordo flying across the courtyard.

If not for the Ancient One and Wong intervening, Mordo might have rallied the entire Sanctum to declare war.

"She's fine," Wong assured Ned. "The Ancient One is personally overseeing her situation. Don't worry."

Then, with a curious glint, he added, "But what happened, Ned? You're one of the strongest sorcerers here—stronger than both Mordo and me. What could leave you in this state?"

Shaking his head, Ned declined to explain further, insisting he would only speak to the Ancient One. He attempted to get out of bed but was immediately overwhelmed by a surge of pain, collapsing back onto the mattress.

"Guess I'm destined to keep ending up in bed," Ned muttered bitterly.

Wong patted him on the shoulder. "Rest up. I'll inform the Ancient One about your condition and check on the girl you brought back. If she's stable enough to control her powers, I'll bring her here to see you."

With that, Wong dragged Mordo out of the room, leaving Ned alone.

Lying there, bored out of his mind, Ned reached for his phone, only to remember it had been destroyed in battle.

"Ugh," he groaned.

Suddenly, a transparent version of himself materialized beside the bed. Ned's astral form stood tall and proud, glancing at his injured physical body. He clapped his hands together, phasing effortlessly through the door to explore the Sanctum.

With his mastery of magic, Ned knew that no one, except perhaps the Ancient One, could detect his astral form unless he actively used magic. He wandered confidently, unbothered by the thought of being mistaken for a ghost and attacked.

"Ned?"

A voice behind him made him freeze.

"Ned? Where is he? He's too injured to be wandering around," Mordo said dismissively to Wanda.

"No… no… I can see his soul. Ned, did you… die?"

Wanda's trembling voice was laced with panic as she reached out toward Ned's astral form. Crimson energy flickered at her fingertips, her scarlet eyes glowing brighter as her emotions spiraled out of control.

"No! Wanda!"

Wong's sharp command snapped Wanda out of her trance. He turned his stern gaze toward the empty space in front of him and said, "Ned! Show yourself! Or do you want Mordo to lecture you about the Sanctum's rules again?"

"Alright, alright…"

Ned's astral form materialized, ignoring Mordo's scowl. He turned to Wanda and said gently, "Wanda, I'm alive and well. This is just a spell—astral projection."

"I… I'm sorry, Ned," Wanda stammered, guilt flooding her voice. She knew how badly injured he had been because of her lack of control.

"It's fine," Ned replied, reaching out his ethereal hand to cup her face. Though there was no physical sensation, the gesture calmed her. "Your power is immense—stronger than anything I've ever encountered. It's natural to struggle with control."

"The Ancient One sealed part of my power," Wanda admitted. "She said it would make it easier for me to manage. She also mentioned that you could help me remove the seal when the time comes."

"I will," Ned promised.

He then suggested, "In the meantime, perhaps you could ask the Ancient One about other forms of magic. The Sanctum has plenty of resources—maybe you'll find something that suits you."

"The Ancient One already mentioned this," Wanda said. "But she believes my own energy is strong enough. She says that mastering it will be enough to defeat most enemies, without needing to rely on lesser magics."

As they spoke, Wanda followed Ned back to his room, her eyes fixed on him, unafraid of tripping or falling.

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