Ancient One still needed to stay on Earth to guard against the Serpent suddenly causing trouble. Monarch was the most suitable candidate Su Ming could think of.
He couldn't exactly bring that old trickster from the London Sanctum, could he?
Druid was a scholarly, good-natured type, Mordo was too rigid, and Kasady was still too young—none of them would do.
The magic prince, skilled in both white and black magic as well as voodoo curses, had the most comprehensive abilities.
But Su Ming had thought Monarch's spellcasting costs were relatively low, requiring only rabbits. Seeing him in this state now, Su Ming hesitated.
"This is the Bifrost? I've only read about it in texts. Truly marvelous…"
Monarch tucked away the rabbit and began looking around.
Seeing the Bifrost and the one-eyed old man, he almost immediately recognized Odin, meaning the guard beside him was Heimdall.
He hadn't yet realized this Odin was a fake.
"Welcome to Asgard!" Su Ming enthusiastically patted the sorcerer's shoulder, but whispered in his ear, "London, scent suppression."
Monarch's mind raced. He glanced at Odin's face, recalled Ancient One's recent instructions, and understood.
"So it's you," he replied softly, referencing their London meeting and the use of scent-suppression magic, realizing this was Deathstroke.
Su Ming gave a slight smile, saying no more, and released his arm.
"I am the ruler of Asgard, God-King Odin. This is my loyal guardian, Heimdall. Sorcerer of Midgard, I need your help."
Monarch sighed. He'd been dragged here with no way back—what choice did he have?
Besides, he owed Ancient One a favor and was happy to help Kamar-Taj. Deathstroke was Ancient One's chosen successor, so he had to lend a hand.
Still, he didn't quite understand why Deathstroke was pretending to be Odin.
Wasn't that a bit risky? Rumor had it Odin wasn't exactly good-tempered.
If Su Ming could read his thoughts, he'd surely tell him:
"It depends on the situation. With Ancient One and Vishanti backing me, Odin can't lose his temper unless I cross his line."
Odin's bottom line was simple: the lives of his family and the survival of Asgard.
Though Odin had lain back down and pretended to sleep, Su Ming figured he'd probably snuck up to prepare after he left.
During their talk, Su Ming deliberately mentioned Thor's recent antics. Odin surely wouldn't rest easy and would likely find a way to hide Thor from the Serpent.
Before feigning sleep, Odin learned Asgard had lost two million troops, his eye nearly popping out.
But Su Ming quickly found an excuse:
"Sending Thor away from Asgard was to avoid the Serpent. I even dispatched an army to protect him—who knew he'd be so useless?"
In Odin's heart, Thor's importance far outweighed the army, so he swallowed his frustration and let it pass.
There was no helping it—his son was truly incompetent, an undeniable fact he couldn't argue against.
The army was annihilated by Hela, their souls falling to the underworld, still cycling within Asgard's system—a family matter.
Hela, Thor, Loki—his three children's current states made Su Ming suspect Odin had orchestrated it all, part of a grand plan tied to Ragnarok.
Odin's wisdom was undeniable, which made many things hard to explain.
Why, for thousands of years, had he never reined in Thor, letting him grow into a reckless brute, only to send him to Earth for "training" five years before Ragnarok?
Completely sealing Thor's divine powers? Forbidding him from using Mjolnir? And then immediately going into slumber?
Then there was Loki. Why had Odin specifically picked him up from the battlefield? There were plenty of orphans—why not adopt another child as a prince? Laufey had more than just Loki.
After bringing him back, Odin outwardly favored Thor most of the time, yet no matter how many times Loki rebelled, Odin quickly pardoned him, letting him roam freely in Asgard.
No emperor would play it that way.
Then there was Hela. Su Ming knew clearly that Hela was no match for Odin, even with Tyr and Fenris.
So why, one day, did Odin suddenly banish Hela to the underworld and ignore her completely? He could've locked her up in the golden palace or under the World Tree.
Hela raised an army in the underworld, openly opposing Odin, yet he didn't discipline her and even suppressed the news.
In truth, only Thor and Loki's generation didn't know about it, right?
Putting all this together, Su Ming believed Odin had some precognitive ability, whether from the fountain or runes, and had clearly assigned roles to his three children for Ragnarok.
This was Asgard's fallback, the key to the gods' destruction and rebirth.
But it was their family business, and though Su Ming understood, he had no need to interfere. The mortal emperor model didn't suit Asgard—this was a world of superheroes.
"Come, sorcerer, let's talk as we walk."
Monarch's mouth twitched. He was used to Deathstroke and his cousin's neurotic antics, but he hadn't expected Deathstroke to come play in Asgard.
He was really convincing as Odin—could this be the personality split Holloway mentioned?
Lost in thought, Monarch instinctively clutched his pocket, where his last bit of magical beard wax was stored. He couldn't let Deathstroke swipe it again.
He hadn't been idle lately. While Captain America was resting, SSR wasn't.
Colonel Phillips, through his retirement, gave up the director's seat as a bargaining chip to get higher-ups to reinstate Nick Fury as leader of the Howling Commandos.
Taking the fall was almost enough. Making Nick Fury scrub floors seemed like harsh punishment, but on closer inspection, it was just internal discipline.
Though Phillips was old and not great at espionage, he excelled at politics and securing funds. He always stayed sharp.
Cut off one head, and two more grow—without a patriot like Nick Fury holding SSR together, the Strategic Scientific Reserve would be in danger in the seemingly peaceful post-war era.
While Su Ming was playing mahjong with Steve and the others, the Howling Commandos were active underground in West Germany, not only clearing out Hydra remnants but also facing new enemies.
Leviathan.
East and West Germany combined wasn't much territory, yet underground wars were blooming everywhere, fought fiercely.
After Monarch recovered and rejoined, he found Steve and the others had returned home. Planning to slip away, he was caught by Nick Fury.
Fury had long envied Captain America's team having a sorcerer and wanted one for his own.
Fury's eloquence was undeniable. Monarch was swayed and started tackling Hydra and Leviathan again.
But in a recent operation, SSR, Hydra, and Leviathan crossed paths, sparking a massive underground brawl.
To protect his team, Monarch had to borrow the power of the ancient demon Faratell, unleashing powerful water-based magic.
SSR won, with Hydra and Leviathan retreating, but Monarch's belly was now filled with ascites.
These otherworldly fluids were slowly corroding his organs—the price of magic.
He could only use rabbits to transfer some of it daily. Without prior preparation, swapping out the magical cost afterward was a long process, and only a black magic master like Monarch could manage it.
But as a sorcerer, who didn't carry some cost?
For now, he just needed to focus more, using Vishanti's protective magic on his organs and blocking his pain.
Monarch's combat ability hadn't dropped much; the bloated belly was just a bit inconvenient.
Su Ming briefly told Monarch that Hydra had come to Asgard, led by one of their leaders, little Zemo.
"Hydra and Nazis again—these bastards never quit."
Monarch instinctively stroked his beard, gleaming from careful grooming, but when he noticed Deathstroke eyeing it, he quickly dropped his hand.
To protect his beard wax, he turned his gaze to the starry sky beyond the Bifrost.
Even for a sorcerer who'd seen other dimensions, Asgard's scenery was breathtaking.
But now wasn't the time to admire the view.
"You seem sturdier, sorcerer."
"A minor side effect, no big deal."
Su Ming glanced at the puzzled Heimdall but didn't ask further. With an Asgardian present, he had to watch his words.
"Heimdall, lead the way. Keep an eye out for suspicious people and take us to Mist's home."
The tall warrior nodded, taking the lead, his eagle-like eyes scanning every face on the street.
But the biggest fake was right behind him. The symbiote and host's fused disguise left Heimdall's illusion-piercing eyes powerless.
Asgard currently had no civilians, only soldiers, and in the chaotic streets, some had already started feasts.
They banged their shields, letting golden ale drip down their beards, making a raucous noise.
It couldn't compare to the golden palace's banquets—just some roasted meat and heaps of strong liquor.
But when Odin passed, everyone along the way toasted him, not just Asgardians but many Vanir as well.
It seemed Gulveig had relayed "Odin's" new decision. They knew equality had arrived, at least.
Su Ming drank plenty along the way, but when he reached Gin's small house, he was still perfectly sober.
Gin's home wasn't much different from Brunnhilde's—small and simply furnished.
Seeing Su Ming through the door crack, Gin opened it.
At that moment, the transparent souls of the Valkyries sat in a circle in the living room, expressionlessly staring at the beast pelt on the floor.
The scene sent chills down the spine, the aura of the dead combined with the long-vacant house making the small room feel eerily haunted.