Stephen slowly wrapped cloth around his scarred hands, methodically preparing for the upcoming training session.
"Are you ready?" Mordo asked, standing across from the former neurosurgeon.
"Why are we doing this again?" Strange asked. "I'm not a warrior, you know."
"Neither was I before coming here," Mordo said. "But as Celeste and I have both taught you—true mastery of the Mystic Arts requires balance between body and spirit."
"You could just tell people that working out makes your magic stronger."
"It's not merely about physical fitness," Mordo countered. "It's about discipline of both body and mind."
Stephen rolled his shoulders. "If you say so."
His eyes began wandering toward the other side of the training courtyard.
"So how old is she?" Stephen said, gesturing toward the leader of their mystical order.
Mordo frowned, following Strange's gaze to the Ancient One, who sat fanning herself while observing Bucky and Celeste's sparring match.
"No one knows the Sorcerer Supreme's true age. Only that she's of Celtic origin and never discusses her past."
"You've followed her for years and even you don't know?" Stephen questioned.
"I know her as determined yet unpredictable. Ruthless yet compassionate. She made me who I am today," Mordo said with quiet pride.
With that, Mordo shifted into a fighting stance, which Strange mirrored with his own variation.
"Trust your teacher," Mordo said as they began circling each other. "And don't lose yourself."
"Like Kaecilius did?" Strange asked, his tone rhetorical.
Mordo threw a kick, which Strange deftly avoided.
Both men then locked arms, but Strange leveraged his slight height advantage and pressed his elbow against Mordo's throat.
"You knew him," Strange stated.
Mordo immediately reversed their positions, now behind Stephen, placing him in a chokehold.
"When he first came to us, he'd lost everyone he loved. He was a devastated, broken man searching for answers in the Mystic Arts."
Strange struggled against Mordo's grip but paused at his next words.
"A brilliant student—but arrogant and stubborn. He questioned the Ancient One and rejected her teachings. Does that remind you of anyone?"
Strange drove his elbow into Mordo's stomach. The man released him, rolling back slightly.
Mordo straightened and nodded approval at Strange, who rubbed his neck.
"He abandoned Kamar-Taj shortly before your arrival," Mordo continued. "His zealots followed him like sheep, seduced by false promises."
"He stole a forbidden ritual, didn't he?" the former surgeon asked. "I heard about it from Wong. What does it do?"
Mordo didn't respond to the question, instead turning toward a shelf lined with various implements and weapons.
"No more questions," he said, grasping a staff.
He pointed it at Strange. "That's your problem."
Both men chuckled.
"This is a relic called the Staff of the Living Tribunal," Mordo explained, holding it horizontally before Strange. "Some spells are too powerful to sustain, so we channel them into relics to bear pressures we cannot."
Mordo grasped the staff's opposite end with his other hand.
He pulled, and the staff separated into multiple sections, all connected by glowing magical energy.
Mordo swung it in wide arcs, the staff whipping through the air in all directions. When it struck the ground, bursts of magical energy erupted from each impact point.
It quickly retracted to its dormant state.
"There are many relics," Mordo continued, listing examples. "The Wand of Watoomb. The Vaulting Boots of Valtorr..."
"When do I get my relic?"
"When you're ready."
"I think I'm ready."
Mordo simply gave him a pointed look. "When the relic deems you ready, you'll be ready. For now... conjure your weapon."
Stephen brought his hands together, concentrating his magic into forming something tangible. Slowly, glowing ethereal cords materialized between his palms.
However, he didn't have time to fully manifest the weapon due to Mordo's sudden attack.
"Fight!" Mordo shouted, and Stephen hastily blocked the rapid series of strikes. "Fight like your life depends on it!"
The final blow connected with the whip Strange had conjured, but the moment he attempted to pull the magical weapon taut, it dissipated.
Mordo then leaped around Strange, his boots creating shimmering platforms of magical energy beneath him.
Just as he circled behind the doctor, Strange was knocked to the ground as expected.
Mordo pulled him to his feet and walked away, leaving behind a slightly disoriented sorcerer who shook his head to clear it.
"Looks like he got you good."
Strange turned and found Bucky standing nearby, leaning casually on the staff he and Celeste had been using in their sparring.
"That's one way to put it," Strange said. "Feels like if I had some kind of relic, I'd stand a better chance."
"Oh? Want to try sparring with me instead?" Bucky asked with a grin. "Plain hand-to-hand is always more comfortable than all these mystical secrets."
Stephen shook his head firmly. "No thanks. Getting knocked down once today is enough."
"You'll get one eventually," Celeste assured him. "A relic just has to choose you."
"So you're saying some of these artifacts are sentient?"
Celeste shrugged, the azure cape she wore rippling despite the absence of wind.
"In a sense," the Jedi Shadow said casually. "They're imbued with energy from other dimensions, so some relics can be sentient. The way the Ancient One explained it, certain entities view it as a contract—allowing part of their essence to exist in another reality."
Strange gave her an uneasy look. "But... wouldn't that potentially attract more... malicious entities?"
Morn hummed thoughtfully. "I'm fairly certain the Master wouldn't be foolish enough to willingly invite malevolent beings into this reality."
"Besides, she's got the dangerous ones locked up," Bucky added.
"How do you know that?" Strange asked.
"Robbie sensed them when he first got here," Barnes revealed.
"Robbie sensed them?" Doctor Strange looked confused. "How could he do that?"
"It's the thing inside him," Bucky said, tapping his chest. "It can detect evil and dark-type stuff, so he knows there's something dangerous contained here."
Strange didn't quite know how to process that information.
"Great," Strange muttered. "You know, they really should provide an orientation manual about these things. Isn't there some kind of safety briefing? It's bad enough that Wong threatens my life if I don't return books on time."
Bucky and Celeste both laughed, the latter patting his arm sympathetically.
"Don't worry, Stephen," Celeste assured him. "The Ancient One has kept Kamar-Taj and the Three Sanctums safe for centuries. She knows what she's doing."
"Right." Strange nodded, then blinked as something gleamed in his peripheral vision.
He looked down toward the source and found Morn's lightsaber catching the light of the setting sun.
"What powers that thing?" Strange asked, pointing to the cylindrical metal device attached to her belt. "Some kind of laser core or something?"
Celeste smiled at the question.
"No, nothing like that," she said, patting her lightsaber fondly. "It's something all Jedi forge for themselves. We use knowledge accumulated through the Force, letting it guide us in crafting our own lightsabers."
"The thing's beautiful," Bucky said. "Can cut through damn near anything."
Stephen studied the lightsaber with open curiosity.
"So if they can be made... could I create one myself?"
Celeste hummed thoughtfully. "Hmm... if you'd asked me that question in my home galaxy, the answer would be a definitive no. You need the Force to construct a lightsaber."
"I sense a 'but' coming..."
Morn smiled. "But here, it might not be impossible. Traditionally, you'd need kyber crystals to power it, but given the Mystic Arts' capabilities, kyber crystals might not be necessary."
"So I could make one," Strange said, his curiosity intensifying.
"Possibly," Celeste admitted. "But training to wield it properly... that's another matter entirely."
"I can use one just fine," Bucky said, raising his metal arm proudly. "No severed limbs here."
Celeste snorted and patted his cheek affectionately. "That's because you're a natural fighter, sweetheart."
Strange made a sound of mild exasperation at the couple before him.
"So... about that lightsaber..."
"I doubt you'd accidentally dismember yourself," Morn pointed out.
Strange couldn't help but glance at the Winter Soldier's prosthetic arm.
"That's not how I lost it, in case you're wondering," Bucky said dryly. "Seriously, does anyone study history anymore?"
"You sound like an old man," Strange retorted. "Come to think of it, how old are you now?"
"For his age, the fact he can still take a beating without breaking a sweat is impressive."
"I'm never letting you forget this."
The three turned as Robbie Reyes jogged toward them.
"Robbie," Bucky greeted warmly.
"We need to leave. Now," Reyes said, his tone urgent.
"What's wrong?" Celeste asked, alarmed.
"Nothing good, that's what," Robbie said. "That Sith bastard. Zarathos found him."
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