Under the dim, flickering firelight, Daniel took a sip of the clear tea. A refreshing warmth spread through his body, clearing his mind and soothing his fatigue. He couldn't help but exclaim, "What incredible tea!"
The old man, Genghis Daji, and the young attendant beside him—Qi Yang—smiled at Daniel's reaction. What pleased them wasn't his praise, but the fact that Daniel drank the tea without hesitation. It was a silent sign of trust.
"Daji" being a respectful term for the elderly.
Genghis Daji had lived in this secluded cave for centuries, dedicating himself to cultivation. He had not left this place in hundreds of years.
He claimed to be a direct descendant of the great Genghis Khan, though his true name had long since been lost to history. What mattered was that he was the oldest living mage in the world. Even The Ancient One, would be considered his junior. Qi Yang, a disciple from Kamar-Taj, had been sent by The Ancient One herself to serve and learn from this legendary hermit. Whether Qi Yang could fully grasp the ancient man's teachings was up to his own fate.
Daniel only learned these things after drinking the tea. Trust wasn't given lightly in a place like this, but once a bond was formed, it was strong—just as Daniel now found himself trusting these two strangers.
Genghis Daji wasn't a mage of Kamar-Taj. He hailed from an even earlier era—one that predated even The Ancient One's rise to power. While she wielded the powers of a demigod through the Time Stone and Dormammu's energy, Genghis Daji had chosen a different path. For centuries, he had remained here, quietly honing his spirit, even as everyone who had once known him was swept away by time.
Yet, he showed no bitterness. He welcomed disciples of Kamar-Taj, teaching them what he could. There was a quiet dignity in him, one that made Daniel uneasy. Just how many beings like this—hidden legends—existed behind the scenes?
"Young one," Genghis said, his voice calm but sharp, "do not underestimate the power of the spirit. The body is mere flesh, bound by heaven and earth. Only the spirit can transcend all."
Daniel nodded thoughtfully, choosing not to interrupt. It was Qi Yang who broke the silence, stirring the contents of the small bowl in his hands as he sighed, "You've said this countless times, Master. But if the body dies, there will be no spirit to transcend. You haven't eaten for weeks. Please… eat something."
"Food?" Genghis raised an eyebrow. "Food only satisfies one kind of hunger. But in this world, there are hungers far deeper than that." His eyes shifted toward Daniel. "Tell me, young man, do you eat?"
"Yes, Elder," Daniel said with a faint smile. "Though, I find myself eating less these days. Matter is just energy, after all. It can be absorbed from nature. Still…" He glanced at the bowl in Qi Yang's hands with genuine envy. "There are few things that can stir my appetite anymore. But I must say, Master Qi Yang's cooking is extraordinary."
Though Daniel's words were polite, what he truly envied were the ingredients in that bowl. They were spiritual foods, rare and long extinct in the outside world. Only in secret places like this cave, hidden deep within the mountains, could such things still grow. If exposed to the modern world, their spiritual energy would quickly fade under the erosion of time and pollution.
Genghis, however, seemed utterly indifferent to the food. To him, the material world had long lost its hold.
Daniel understood this sentiment well. Ever since his rise to legendary status, his body required far less food. A single meal could sustain him for days, even weeks. Qi Yang, on the other hand, was still young and needed regular nourishment to maintain his strength.
Determined, Qi Yang tried again, his tone pleading. "Please, Master Daji… I swore to serve you. If you starve yourself to death, I will have broken my promise to protect you. Eat something. Don't force me to follow you into death."
His sincerity was so raw that even Daniel felt compelled to intervene, but before he could say anything, Genghis Daji's expression hardened. He spoke with sudden intensity, as if struck by a memory. "Young fools like you… you speak of doomsday so casually, but you have no idea what true doom is. Doomsday… is not an event. Doomsday… is a person."
Daniel froze. His skin prickled, a chill running through his body.
"What are you saying, old man?" he asked, stunned.
A person? Doomsday was a person?
In the Marvel universe, Daniel knew of countless crises—the snap of Thanos' fingers, which erased half of all life; interstellar wars, alien invasions, symbiote infestations. Even on Earth, humanity had endured the Chitauri invasions, the dark elves' assault, the Nine Realms' conflicts—each event pushing the planet to the brink of annihilation.
There were other threats too: Ultron's world-ending schemes, Magneto's genocidal dreams, Phoenix's raw destructive power, Apocalypse's rise, Dormammu's endless hunger, Nightmare's manipulation, Mephisto's infernal schemes… The list was endless. Yet each time, the combined efforts of heroes, sometimes aided by Kamar-Taj, had prevented disaster.
The survival of humanity was, in many ways, an act of sheer luck.
But now, Daniel was hearing about something different. Something personal. A man, someone who could be worse than all these disasters combined.
Genghis Daji's voice dropped to a near whisper, as though the name itself carried weight. "A person… a stubborn, unyielding person. He visited me once, many years ago."
The old man's gaze grew distant as he sank into memory.
The weather, he recalled, had been clear and warm that day—so different from today's blizzard. A young man, wrapped in heavy robes, had come to his cave and demanded, "I'm looking for Genghis Daji. Are you him?"
It hadn't been that long ago, though few knew of Genghis Daji's existence anymore. He had believed that only Kamar-Taj still remembered him. Yet here was a stranger, speaking with a bold, almost arrogant tone.
Genghis replied with equal bluntness, "Of course I am. Who else would I be?"
The young man's eyes narrowed, anger flashing in them, but he restrained himself and said, "I'm here—"
"I know why you've come," Genghis interrupted with a dismissive wave. "You seek magic. I've seen countless travelers like you. But I'm too old and too tired. Find another master. I no longer take apprentices."
That was the breaking point. The stranger's anger exploded. He tried to storm into the cave, but an invisible barrier stopped him cold. He pounded on it, snarling, "Do you think I'm some ignorant fool? I have studied both technology and magic on my own. I will keep learning, no matter the cost! No old relic like you can stop me!"
He struck the barrier again and again, but it held.
Good weather was rare in the Himalayas, and by the next day, a blizzard swept across the peaks. Yet the young man remained, sheltering near the cave entrance, his will unbroken. Days turned to weeks. Without food or proper rest, his body weakened, but he refused to leave.
Finally, after nearly a month, Genghis Daji's heart softened. He appeared outside the cave, left food, and said simply, "I will not teach you. But if you wish to find your path, seek the monks of the high plateau. There, you will find your destiny."
"Monks of the plateau…" Daniel muttered. "Kamar-Taj? Or Kunlun?"
Both were hidden sanctuaries, shrouded in legend. Many Kamar-Taj mages were bald, as was Genghis. And Kunlun—the domain of the Iron Fist—was known for its monastic traditions.
Daniel's mind drifted. After all, he had arrived here using Kunlun's artifact. Could it all be connected?
"I gave him a path no Westerner had ever walked," Genghis said with a trace of nostalgia. "After eating, he pulled his hood over his face and vanished into the mountains."
"Doom…" Daniel's eyes widened as the pieces fell into place. "Victor von Doom. It has to be him."
Genghis Daji nodded slowly, his voice somber. "He endured deadly storms and freezing cold. He climbed the roof of the world, crossing the harshest lands for months. When he reached his destination, he learned everything the monks had to teach—and in time, he became their master."