Solomon in Marvel

After Solomon's firm objections, Tony Stark relented and revealed a small piece of his hand. He did, in fact, have connections to a vibranium smuggler. The shock-absorbing skeletal system of the Mark II Iron Man suit was based on vibranium. Without the material's kinetic absorption properties, the armor's mechanical design alone wouldn't have been enough to protect him from artillery impacts.

However, Stark had never possessed much vibranium (nor did he now), and processing the material was notoriously difficult. Additionally, with the frequent updates to his suit designs, large-scale use of vibranium would lead to massive waste. If not for these constraints, Stark might have already experimented with a full vibranium suit. Instead, he had arrived at a new philosophy: there was no such thing as the most powerful armor—only the most suitable one.

This concept resonated with Solomon's own approach to magic. As a mage, he knew that this was the inevitable path for all intelligence-based professions. He clinked glasses with Stark, celebrating their shared mindset. As two of the few "intelligence-class" individuals in this world (unlike warlocks, who were charisma-based, or the mystics of Kamar-Taj, whose battle styles emphasized physical endurance), Solomon rewarded himself with a glass of cola.

With all tasks delegated, Solomon prepared to return to Merton College to catch up on the week's coursework he had missed. However, he wasn't worried—he could accomplish in one day what others needed several to complete, and that was without even activating his divine stigmata. With it, Solomon was practically the embodiment of "quantum speed reading." Even the Scholar's Touch spell couldn't match his pace.

At 3:30 a.m. one night, Diana hurriedly woke Solomon. She helped him dress and handed him the Suspended Ring. Since London time was five hours ahead of New York, Solomon needed to leave by 3:50 a.m. to make it to class on time. Skipping too many classes would jeopardize his chances of earning an A+.

He was also considering buying a property in London. Once the witches returned, they could move in together, leaving his current residence under the care of the sisterhood. However, this was a significant family decision that required discussion with them.

After freshening up, Solomon sleepily sat at the dining table. With a napkin tied around his neck, he waited as Diana brought him breakfast. Once he had finished eating, he yawned and bid farewell to the androids before teleporting to London.

The morning in London was as dreary as ever. A light rain had fallen before dawn, which suited Solomon's double-breasted suit perfectly. Winter was approaching, and Oxfordshire would soon be even colder. Forum posts were already warning residents to be cautious of icy conditions since London's unpredictable weather made sudden temperature drops inevitable.

At his rented house in Oxfordshire, Solomon brewed himself a cup of hot tea. Taking his thermos and backpack, he calmly rode his bicycle to class. Today, he also needed to visit his faculty advisor's office to discuss revisions to his research paper.

As was customary, the advisor would be listed as the corresponding author, with Jane Foster as the second author and Solomon himself as the first. If all went well, the paper would be published—so long as the advisor didn't suspect that Jane Foster had simply leveraged her reputation to boost Solomon's work.

Even among Merton College's prolific student researchers, Solomon stood out. His paper extended Jane Foster's theories, which had gained renewed prominence after the events of Thor's arrival, the Battle of New York, and the proof of Einstein-Rosen bridges. The Dark Elf invasion had further cemented these theories as a hot topic. Unlike the New York battle, which was now a fading memory, the face-to-face alien invasion was a topic that refused to die down. And riding the wave of popular research topics was a staple skill for any undergrad.

If this paper was accepted, Solomon would immediately begin working on a second one.

Jane Foster herself had become something of a "paper engine," churning out publications to cement her authority in the field. Meanwhile, her colleague, the eccentric Professor Erik Selvig—known for streaking at Stonehenge, predicting two alien invasions, and surviving three close encounters—was now a key figure in the research community.

As a Nobel Prize nominee, Jane Foster was financially secure, yet she still lived in a modest London apartment, conducting her research with pen, paper, and a laptop. The research labs at Greenwich University, where she often worked, were currently under renovation. Bureaucratic squabbling between Downing Street and the UK university funding council over damages from the Dark Elf invasion had delayed repair funds. For now, she relied on alumni donations, leaving her without a proper workspace.

One of the culprits behind Greenwich's extensive damage was currently pushing open the door to her makeshift "lab."

Stuck in the same situation was Darcy Lewis, though she was no longer an intern but a full-fledged assistant and master's student. Rumor had it that Darcy aspired to earn a PhD, prompting Jane to increase her supervision of Darcy's studies.

As for Darcy's former intern, he had long since fled—this lab needed interns with brawn, not brains.

"Hey, Solomon!" Darcy greeted him with a mischievous grin, stretching out her hand. "Hand over the new paper! C'mon, today's just us. Jane's giving a lecture at Royal Holloway, so I'm your reviewer. Have you figured out how you're going to bribe me yet?"

"No paper today," Solomon replied.

"Then what do you have?"

"This!" Solomon pulled two tickets from his suit pocket. Darcy snatched them immediately.

"The Royal Opera House? And a private box?" Her eyes widened as she laughed and playfully patted Solomon's chest. She then poked at it with a finger, nodding in approval. "Not bad," she said with a mysterious smile. Glancing down at her own chest, she straightened her posture confidently. Moving closer, she teased, "Is this your way of asking me out, sexy boy?"

"Les Misérables is playing in the West End tonight," Solomon explained. "Considering how the Royal Opera House has been pandering to unhealthy political correctness in recent years, I thought an older classic might be more enjoyable. Don't worry—I won't judge you if you fall asleep." He added with a grin, "After all, 'to love another person is to see the face of God,' right?"

"Okay, fine. But I've got a gift for you too!" Darcy pulled a handful of mini liquor bottles from her knit bag. "Ta-da! My secret stash—vodka and rum! We can sneak these into the box. I know it's against the rules, but come on, live a little! We're going to see God in that box!"

"Excellent. Now, who else is joining our adventure?"

"Me! Let's go, quick! London traffic's a nightmare—we'll be late if we don't leave now!"

"Then let's go," Solomon declared. "Past the smoke, over the barricades—the new world is just ahead."

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