Under the pale glow of the moon, in the deserted woodland of Central Park, a suit of silver battle armor stood silently. Opposite it, Daniel crouched, his hands moving with methodical precision as he carved glowing runes across the armor's surface.
This work demanded absolute concentration. He couldn't risk distractions, not at his apartment, not at his clinic, not even at Empire State University.
He had considered retreating to the secret lab in Newark, but something about that place felt… wrong. Watched. So he chose Central Park—its sprawling trees and midnight quiet gave him room to breathe, to work.
Few people in the world knew Daniel's true affinity. He wasn't just a thunder mage or a space manipulator. His deepest talent lay with wood magic—a natural, living force that had once opened the door of magic to him, even in this magic-starved era.
He might have reached the rank of a legendary mage through the destructive might of ice and the terrifying force of his Thunder Hammer, but wood magic was his hidden card, his bridge to other elements. Through quantum manipulation, he could even weave incompatible magic types together, though the cost in mana was brutal.
It didn't matter. Daniel had never cared about paying a price, not when the result was raw versatility. He wasn't simply powerful; he was adaptable. The kind of opponent you couldn't prepare for because you never knew which spell he'd use next.
By the time he began engraving the runes on the armor, Daniel had already layered Central Park with a hidden magic circle.
If anyone crossed its boundary, the entire woodland would awaken—roots twisting like spears, vines snapping like whips, branches sharpening into deadly spikes. Even the flowers and leaves would become silent killers.
Each rune Daniel etched glowed briefly, then dimmed as he paused, mentally checking its placement. A single misplaced symbol could ruin the flow of the circle. This armor wasn't meant to be a blunt instrument. It was built for independence.Every rune had to complement or amplify the next without conflict.
Water runes and fire runes couldn't resonate together—normally, they would cancel each other out. But Daniel's design allowed them to feed one another instead. Water wouldn't smother fire; it would fuel the storm.
This armor was a multi-layered puzzle, a weapon for impossible scenarios. While his Mjolnir was unrivaled in raw power, this armor was his answer to unpredictability.
Though the night was quiet, Daniel's instincts told him otherwise. He could feel it—a gaze, cold and deliberate, watching him from the shadows. Yet, when he entered the park, the watcher had vanished… or perhaps been swallowed by the camouflage of his wards.
He smirked slightly. Whoever it was, they'd find nothing.
The Chitauri would come. The world would face its reckoning soon enough. Daniel didn't need this armor ready now—better to keep it hidden, its secrets buried until the perfect moment.
He considered merging modern weaponry with his magical design. Stark Industries' tech was reliable, brutal in its precision. Hammer Industries, on the other hand, was a disaster waiting to happen.
Could he acquire Stark weapons through the military? Perhaps. But free favors from the military always came with strings. Sometimes, the most expensive things in the world were those that cost nothing.
The first hints of dawn lightened the sky as Daniel stepped back, stamping his foot lightly. A golden magic circle flared beneath him, and the silver armor sank seamlessly into the earth, buried within Central Park itself.
He wasn't worried about theft. In fact, part of him hoped someone would try. The Hand, perhaps. If they took the bait, they'd expose themselves, and Daniel would strike.
The Hand's plans were far from simple. That pit they found in Hell's Kitchen wasn't the only one. Manhattan alone had at least three such excavation sites. Destroying one meant nothing if the others were completed.
Daniel's lips curled slightly. 'What exactly are they trying to awaken beneath this city?'
Before dawn, Daniel returned to his clinic. But as soon as he stepped inside, every instinct screamed at him.
'Something's wrong.'
With a flick of his fingers, a golden flash sealed the entire building. The air inside thickened, frozen as if the world had paused. No one could enter or leave.
Daniel stepped back, his eyes narrowing as an old man emerged from the corridor—thin, frail, leaning on a blind man's cane. His gray hair was unkempt, his coat frayed, but his mere presence radiated a sharp, dangerous aura.
"Stick," Daniel muttered, recognizing the legendary blind master instantly.
Stick's sightless eyes seemed to focus on him.
"What was that just now?" he asked, stopping mid-step.
Daniel sat down in one of the clinic's waiting chairs, casually putting several rows of empty seats between them. "A suffocation wall. Basic, but effective. Keeps uninvited guests out."
Stick tilted his head, as if analyzing him with senses beyond sight. "You've been careful. But tell me, Daniel… how did you think I'd find you?"
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "I left nothing with Elektra that would lead you here."
"This isn't about Elektra," Stick replied, leaning against the doorway like a predator at rest. "We monitor everyone in this city who has… unusual abilities. And you, my friend, are far from ordinary."