Marvel's Strongest Mage

The sun hammered down on the New Mexican desert, turning the landscape into a shimmering ocean of heat. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath in the silence.

But they were all there, gathered around the massive circle carved into the desert floor—a pattern of power drawn in perfect, divine geometry.

Thor stood with his arms crossed. Tony Stark, in his armor but helmet off, watched intently. Dr. Jane Foster's eyes sparkled with nervous excitement while Professor Erik Selvig clutched his notebook with shaking hands.

Agent Clint Barton and Phil Coulson held the perimeter, tense and ready.

And at the center, hovering just inches above the runes, was Daniel.

He looked exhausted—like he'd been carrying the weight of the world. The runes beneath him pulsed softly, flickering with stored energy, half-awake and waiting.

"Are we really doing this?" Daniel asked, his voice rough and low. He looked up at Thor, face tight with worry and determination. "What if it doesn't work?"

Thor's expression was stone. "Then it fails," he said simply. "And we try again. But if it works..." His eyes drifted upward, toward a home he hadn't seen in far too long. "Then we go back. Sometimes you can't wait for perfect conditions. You just have to push forward."

Thor needed to get back to Asgard—fast. Every moment they delayed gave Loki more time to cement his grip on the throne. Every second could cost them everything.

Daniel understood that. But understanding didn't calm the storm in his chest.

He'd tried this before—dozens of times in practice, using simulations and models. None of it had worked properly.

Even with the space rune partially figured out—thanks to Thor's help—it still wasn't enough.

To carve space itself into reality was to slice through the fabric of existence. It demanded mastery that few mortals had ever dreamed of, let alone achieved.

But there was no going back now.

Daniel looked down at the rune circle sprawling beneath him—an intricate web of interlocking symbols, each line connecting to the next like some vast neural network. Every mark had its place, its purpose.

This hadn't been drawn overnight. It had taken weeks of nonstop work, rest, adjustments, and help from brilliant minds like Stark's and Thor's. The precision required was mind-bending.

And Earth's weak, erratic magical field had only made it harder. On Jotunheim, Daniel had tasted incredible power. But Earth dampened him, flattened his abilities.

Only with his newly reforged Mjolnir had he finally found the edge he needed.

Even so, this was a massive gamble.

Success meant opening a bridge to Asgard.

Failure... meant catastrophic magical backlash. The whole array could collapse, and Daniel might not survive the explosion.

"Everyone, back up," Daniel said without lifting his gaze. "If this thing blows, you'll want to be nowhere near it."

Jane and Selvig retreated quickly. Barton and Coulson shared a look before stepping back.

Stark hesitated longest—just nodded once before moving away.

Then Daniel began.

His wand—carved white-brown oak tipped with obsidian—slid from his sleeve into his hand. He pointed it toward the final empty space in the circle, where the space rune waited to be drawn.

It was bigger than the others, by design.

Unlike the precise micro-runes etched with millimeter accuracy, this one would spread wide beneath him—a central sigil to anchor the entire construct.

Behind him, Daniel's personal Mjolnir floated upward, hovering like a protective guardian. The moment his feet left the sand, thunder rumbled softly overhead.

Suspended above the rune, Daniel touched his wand to the ground and began to draw.

Power flowed from Mjolnir into his body.

It wasn't just magical energy—it was divine current, channeled through a weapon meant for gods. Without it, Daniel wouldn't last five minutes.

Even after three days of rest, he felt the drain immediately. Every stroke of the rune burned through his reserves like fire.

This was divine magic. This was the price of summoning gods.

He focused with absolute precision—no distractions, no second chances.

With each line drawn, the tension mounted. A single mistake wouldn't just fail—it could destabilize the entire array. Even with Mjolnir as a buffer, the magical feedback could fry his nervous system.

But the lines held, the magic flowed.

And slowly, the space rune began to take shape.

Meanwhile, the world was watching.

High in orbit, S.H.I.E.L.D. satellites stayed locked on the coordinates. In Washington, the World Security Council waited in tense silence. The White House Situation Room had a red phone ready. Even Wakanda had turned its orbital lenses toward the desert.

Thor was an alien god. The moment the Rainbow Bridge opened, Earth would face first contact like never before.

War? Alliance? Diplomacy or annihilation?

Nobody knew.

And it all came down to Daniel.

The space rune was almost finished. But Daniel's strength was almost gone.

His breathing was ragged now, muscles shaking, skin slick with sweat. Mjolnir vibrated with sympathetic energy, sensing his strain.

One last stroke.

One final line to complete the rune and open the gate.

Daniel clenched his teeth. His hand trembled. Every fiber of his being screamed to stop.

But he didn't.

With one final motion, he sealed the rune, and the desert exploded with light.

Golden energy raced outward in a perfect wave, following every line of the circle. The air shimmered. The sky flickered. The magic sang.

It was done.

The Rainbow Bridge Summoning Array was complete.

Daniel barely registered the victory. The moment the final light blazed, his vision blurred and strength drained from his limbs. He was falling.

Thor moved instantly.

With a thought, Mjolnir caught Daniel mid-fall, carrying him clear of the now-active circle and laying him gently beside the others.

He'd done it. Against every odd, he'd done it.

And far above, in the throne hall of Asgard, Loki felt the tremor.

The Eternal Spear tightened in his grip.

Below him, the Destroyer—Asgard's ultimate weapon—stirred to life.

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