Max sat quietly in the middle of the river, the soft gurgle of flowing water and the rustle of trees on the banks surrounding him. His small fishing boat, glowing faintly with green energy, rocked gently in the current—a construct he had made, sturdy but simple. In his hands, a matching fishing rod hummed with the same light, its hook and line every bit as functional as anything fashioned from wood and string.
The line twitched.
With a swift tug, Max reeled in a silvery fish that glimmered in the morning sun. He leaned forward and lowered it into a glowing green basket beside him.
This was the seventh now.
He could have done this a thousand easier ways. He wore one of the most powerful weapons in the universe wrapped around his finger. A single thought and he could have summoned an enormous net, drained the river entirely, or created a construct to pluck each fish out precisely.
But that wasn't the point.
This was peaceful. This was something that reminded him of home, of childhood afternoons spent with his grandfather, sitting in silence, waiting for the fish to bite, feeling the line in his hand.
He looked into the basket and gave a small nod. He had been looking for a specific fish when he began, and now he had seven of them.
The boat shimmered away beneath him as he rose into the air, the basket floating beside him. He glided across the water, the light of dawn casting golden bands across the river's surface.
The Indus River.
Max landed softly on the grassy bank, his boots sinking slightly into the dew-soaked earth. He turned back to look at the river.
He had been back on Earth for a week now. After the nightmare of Vaa'rrun, Odin had flown their ship straight here. Max had asked him to land on the northern edge of the Indian subcontinent.
He had come here mostly because, for as long as he had become interested with ancient history, the mystery of the Indus River Valley Civilization had fascinated him. He had even tried to join the digs happening there when he was starting out, but geopolitical tensions kept him away.
And now… he was here.
And not just here, but in the past far, far in the past. By his best reckoning it was somewhere around 3400 BC: technically too early for the Bronze Age, a period on which he was an expert. But then again, this wasn't his universe. He had already seen signs that things were different: metallurgy that was too advanced and large-scale trade networks that had no right to exist yet.
Max's heart beat faster just thinking about it.
Max walked steadily down the dirt path, the basket of fish swaying with each step. With a quiet shimmer of green light, his Green Lantern suit faded away, revealing the simpler garments he wore beneath. The last thing he needed was to draw unnecessary attention with a glowing suit of otherworldly power.
He had met many of the locals from the nearby village of Malukka. They were surprisingly advanced for what should have been the pre-Bronze Age already working bronze tools and using intricate trade networks that reached not only eastward but far into lands he hadn't even anticipated. Malukka was one of the more prominent settlements in the region, a cultural hub where traders bartered carnelian, lapis lazuli, and grains from distant territories to the north,west and east.
The fish he had caught, called iru by the villagers, was a prized delicacy here. It wasn't meant as breakfast for him and Odin no, it was a bribe, a token offered in exchange for information about a mystery he was chasing.
"Construct has dissipated," Jade's calm voice announced.
Max raised a brow. "How long was that one?"
"One day, four hours, forty-four minutes, and two seconds."
Max smiled. "New record."
He was getting better. For the last few months, he had been pushing himself to maintain construct integrity over long periods especially across distances. Just a day ago, he had successfully created a small satellite in orbit. A functioning satellite. It had remained in place, orbiting steadily and even transmitting a low-resolution video feed to a constructed receiver on the ground. Over the years he had learned much about the power ring and was growing stronger, but it was a slow process, always interrupted by some new distraction.
The village of Malukka appeared ahead, its low baked-brick structures glowing warmly in the early sun. Farmers worked the fields, children played near irrigation ditches. Max headed straight for the large house in the center easily the most impressive building, with layered brickwork and clay carvings flanking the entrance.
Jopal, the trader, sat just outside, hunched over a wooden board and tallying bundles of trade goods. When he looked up and saw Max, he groaned.
"You again," Jopal muttered. "I already told you I'm not telling you anything."
Max raised the basket. "Come now, my friend. I've brought gifts."
"No amount of gifts can—" Jopal stopped as he caught sight of the fish. His eyes widened. "Are those… iru?"
Max nodded. "Caught them myself."
"Iru…" Jopal repeated, rising to his feet. "Very rare. Very expensive."
"And all yours," Max said, "if you tell me what I want to know."
Jopal stared at him for a long moment, clearly doing the mental math. Then he sighed. "Fine, fine. Come with me."
He waved Max inside. The interior was modest but well-built; the walls were painted with early Indus motifs stylized bulls, fish, and other animals.
Max didn't waste time on pleasantries. He set the basket down and tipped the fish into a large clay bowl.
"I'm here for one thing," he said. "Who's buying all that lapis and in such large amounts?"
Jopal's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why do you want to know?"
The real reason was simple but hard to explain. Max was fascinated by the sheer scale of the trade network he'd stumbled upon. Someone was purchasing enormous quantities of lapis, paying not in beads or barter but in pure bronze and sometimes even in gold. Such transactions were unheard-of for this era.
Max could have traced the buyers by other means he had the power to do it but that would have been boring. This way was more fun for him.
Jopal rubbed a hand through his graying beard and relented with a sigh. "They come from the west. They dock at the port of Harnal two weeks south if you follow the river and then head out to sea. They pay in bronze so pure it gleams like sunlight, and sometimes in another metal… harder, shinier, something I've never seen. Only the merchant lords of Harnal have it."
Max leaned forward. "Do you know who these traders are? Where in the west they come from?"
Jopal scratched his chin. "They always claim to hail from a city called Wase. Whenever they speak of their ruler, they use the same title the God-King."
Max froze, eyes narrowing. "Wase?"
Jopal nodded. "That's what they say. They claim their city is large enough to hold a thousand villages like this one, but I don't believe such ridiculous boasts."
"God-King… in Wase?" Max muttered under his breath.
Wase—the ancient Egyptian name for the city of Thebes. That meant this "God-King" ruled from Egypt. Max's smile widened.
Jopal spread his hands. "That's all I know. I don't go around asking many questions."
Max stood and offered a respectful nod. "You've been more than helpful."
Stepping outside, he felt the sun climbing higher over the fields. His thoughts raced.
Wase… Thebes. In this time period? Impossible. In his own universe, Egypt was still in its predynastic era tribes and proto-states squabbling along the Nile. Narmer wouldn't unify Upper and Lower Egypt for another two centuries.
But this wasn't his universe.
First the Indus Valley already more advanced than it should be. Now Egypt already united and ruled by a Pharoah from Thebes.
He needed to go to egypt.
=====
Max skimmed low over the tree-lined ridges until he spotted the clearing where their ship lay hidden the gift from the Majestrix of the Shi'ar Empire.
Beneath a broad-leafed tree Odin sprawled lazily on the grass, one arm behind his head, snoring softly. His red cloak lay draped over him, and Mjölnir rested at his side, half-buried in wildflowers.
Max touched down without a sound, his boots barely bending the grass.
The snoring ceased.
With a veteran warrior's reflexes, Odin's eyes snapped open. He sat up, blinked once, and offered Max a lopsided smile. "So…did you find what you were looking for?"
Max nodded. "Yes and I think you'll be interested."
Odin stood, stretching until his joints cracked. "If you've returned to lecture me on yet another Midgardian clay pot, I swear to the Norns—"
Max chuckled. "Nothing so dull. Out west there's a city apparently ruled by a God-King."
Odin arched a brow. "A God-King? Pah. Likely some smug Midgardian lording over three huts and a goat pasture."
"I don't think so," Max said, stepping closer. "I want to see the place for myself and meet this God-King."
"Then let's not stand around here," Odin replied, already striding toward the ship.
"I half-expected you to argue and beg to leave."
"I am beginning to like it here," Odin called back, "every warrior needs respite."
Max watched him carefully. During the four years they had traveled together they had become the closest of friends. Their bond forged in battles and wanderlust was genuine. Yet Max never forgot who Odin was: the Odin, future All-Father, infamous for sacrificing almost anything, even others, in his pursuit of knowledge. Even now hints of that nature showed through more than a warrior; calculating, cunning, insatiably curious.
So Max kept his own secrets, especially about the ring.
The ring fascinated Odinits power, its source, its potential. Max always deflected his questions, sensing Odin's hunger for understanding.
Odin, for his part, had formed theories about Max's origins. Max had let too much slip fragmentary knowledge of the wider Marvel cosmos, tidbits no Asgardian scholar possessed. Odin's current conclusion was that Max was a forgotten cosmic being suffering from amnesia.
A convenient theory...one Max saw no reason to correct.
=====
Max joined Odin aboard the still-nameless ship officially "the ship" for lack of agreement on anything better. With a low hum the craft lifted from the clearing, cloaked itself in a shimmering distortion, and slipped smoothly into the sky. Max lounged in the co-pilot's seat, legs casually propped up, while Odin leaned forward, squinting at the horizon through the wide viewport.
"Midgard," Odin muttered. "I suppose it does have a strange charm."
Max chuckled. "Better than the last few worlds we visited."
For several minutes they glided in silence until Jade's voice cut in, calm but urgent.
"Max, I am detecting anomalous energy signatures approximately three miles ahead."
Max straightened. "How anomalous are we talking?"
"Two of the signatures match what the Xeronian dataset classifies as Celestial presence."
That made both men pause.
Odin's brow lifted, eyes suddenly bright. "Celestials? Hah! Perhaps Midgard isn't so boring after all."
Max nodded sharply. "Set us down. We'll fly the rest of the way."
The jade-green hologram at the helm acknowledged, guiding the ship to a discreet landing spot among the hills.
Outside, Max re-formed his full Green Lantern armor; Odin hefted Mjölnir. Together they launched into the air toward the reported anomalies.
Even from a distance they saw it pulses of light, bursts of unfamiliar energy, the unmistakable ripples of battle. Max slowed, hovering.
With a thought he created a small, dart-shaped drone and sent it streaking ahead. A secondary construct an emerald viewing screen floated beside him.
Odin hovered nearby, hammer in hand. "Is this one of your new tricks?"
Max didn't answer; his gaze was fixed on the screen as the drone's camera zoomed in on the battlefield.
It was complete chaos. Creatures made of shadow hunched, clawed things with writhing tendrils of smoke surged against a glowing orange barrier. The dome-shaped shield, etched with mandalas, swirled with patterns Max had only ever seen wielded by Doctor Strange. Inside stood three figures; outside, shadow-monsters hurled their own twisted magic, tainted and purple, echoing the same mandala forms.
Odin leaned in, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "A glorious bout, indeed."
Without waiting, he shot forward like a bolt of lightning, Mjölnir in hand. Max raced after him, a green comet's tail spilling behind.
As they closed in, the battlefield came fully into view. Dozens of shadow creatures ringed the shield, while the sky above warped with crackling energy.
"So," Max asked, tension edging his voice, "how are we doing this?"
For once Odin stayed quiet, studying the scene. Then he spoke.
"Those creatures reek of dark sorcery…."
Odin paused for a moment as he formulated a plan "Remember the battle above Telyos?"
"Don't remind me," Max muttered, memories of Vaa'rrun flashing through his mind.
"Focus, Grænlaðr," Odin said sternly. "That shield's about to collapse. I'll summon a storm with Mjölnir; you enhance and guide it like last time we did it, but on a larger scale."
The shield below was already cracking. Max nodded once. "Fine. Light it up."
Odin dropped from the sky like a falling star, raising Mjölnir high. He bellowed an Asgardian spell, and the heavens answered. Clouds churned—then:
CRACK!
Lightning lanced down, jagged streaks of white-gold.
Max lifted both hands, willpower flaring. A beam of emerald light leapt from his hands into the storm clouds. Odin's lightning twined with the green energy, merging into a radiant, viridian tempest.
With a roar, Max redirected the torrent downward. The combined bolt slammed into the battlefield with earth-shaking force—
KRAK-THOOM!
Green lightning rained down in columns, slamming into the shadow-monsters. One by one they burst into black smoke and ash. The ground cracked, the air trembled, and, in mere seconds, the battlefield was cleared. Only scorched earth and flickering remnants of energy remained.
Max floated down, catching his breath, and landed beside Odin who was already laughing and pumping his fist.
"It worked!" Max cried, stunned and exhilarated. "Ha-ha!"
"See?" Odin grinned, lightning still crackling around him. "I told you it would work."
Max smirked. "Well, you proved me wrong, Odin. That was amazing."
They started toward the three people they had saved. Now clearly visible inside the dissipating shield were two men and a woman.
"Think of the other combinations we could try!" Odin said, eyes gleaming.
"I've already got a few in mind…" Max replied, his voice trailing off as he studied the trio ahead. He drifted a little closer, then muttered, "Wait, wait don't speak too loud. I think they can hear us."
"Oh. Right," Odin whispered.
A clear, calm voice rang out ahead; it was the woman in white armor. "We've already heard you. If you're not enemies, then approach."
"Well, looks like that's our cue."
"Hello There," Max said as they neared.
The larger of the two men narrowed his eyes especially at Max. "Who are you?"
Odin stepped forward confidently, his cloak fluttering behind him, Mjölnir in hand. Max hovered just above, a green glow swirling around him.
"I am Odin Borson, Prince of Asgard," he said, gesturing skyward. "And this is my battle-brother, Grænlaðr."
"Green Lantern," Max corrected with a casual wave. "Or just Lantern if that's too long."
"You looked like you could use some help," he added, smiling.