The New York Sanctum, located at 177A Brick Street in the heart of Manhattan, was an old Victorian brownstone townhouse built in the French Baroque style with its distinctive duplex roof. It appeared to be a modest building, but the interior was far more spacious thanks to powerful magic that distorted space.
The corridors resembled a labyrinth, filled with ancient furniture, display cases of relics, and various magical weapons. The ground floor contained the living room, dining room, kitchen, and library.
On the second floor was a spacious salon and several bedrooms, while the third floor was reserved for training and research, there was a hall with various magical artifacts, a storage room, and a quiet room for meditation.
At the top of the building, the circular window made of four curved beams, known as the "Window of the World," gleamed with a soft golden glow. That pattern, in fact a seal from the Book of the Vishanti, protected the Sanctum from dark forces and supernatural threats from outside.
Alaric was slowly descending the stairs from the third floor, glancing around at everything he saw. The hallway was lined with many powerful relics and weapons he had only ever seen in movies.
However, he had to admit he had no idea what most of them were for. His gaze finally came to rest on the most famous of them all — the Cloak of Levitation, which floated silently in the air inside a glass display case.
As soon as it noticed Alaric looking at it, the cloak shifted slightly and tilted the edge of its collar, almost as if waving to him in greeting.
"Hello, hello," Alaric laughed and waved his hand, then continued inspecting the rest of the weapons.
In his opinion, the future owner of this cloak was supposed to be Stephen Strange, not himself. After all, magical relics like this one had a will of their own and chose their masters.
But as he moved around the room, he soon realized with frustration that there were no labels or signs on the weapons and artifacts.
"How am I supposed to know what each thing does?" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Looks like I'll have to learn through practice."
As he descended further down the stairs, he noticed the Cloak of Levitation had begun to follow him, floating lightly, almost as if curiously observing him. Alaric stopped in surprise and then approached it.
"Do you want to come out?" he asked with a smile, feeling a strange sense of connection with the relic.
To his surprise, the cloak nodded the edge of its collar and then gently fluttered in the air.
"You don't want to stay here but to come with me?"
The clasp on the glass case shimmered under his touch, and the glass vanished in a flash under the influence of reality-warping magic. Once freed, the cloak flew excitedly straight to him and gently settled on his shoulders, as if it had found its master.
"You really like me that much?" Alaric asked with a smile, touching the edge of the cloak.
The cloak gently brushed his cheek, as if answering yes.
"All right, then from now on you're coming with me," he said firmly. "I won't let anyone destroy you."
Determination flashed in his eyes as he remembered the scene from the future where the cloak had been riddled with holes and nearly destroyed while trying to protect Strange in the battle against Wanda. The thought brought a bitter smile to his face.
"I won't let you suffer again," he added softly, as if speaking to a friend rather than an object.
He then approached a large mirror, looking at his reflection. Now, with the cloak on his shoulders and wearing a tight dark-blue suit, he looked surprisingly dignified and almost heroic.
"I have to admit, pretty handsome," he said with a smile, turning left and right, watching how the cloak floated behind him.
Then he raised an eyebrow and commented: "But I have to admit… I look like a copy of Strange."
His clothes, designed in the style of Kamar-Taj, had a simple yet elegant design reminiscent of traditional oriental martial uniforms, with a slim fit that accentuated his lean, strong build.
Combined with the cloak, he truly looked like a successor to the sorcerer's tradition, though deep down he still wasn't sure if that role truly belonged to him.
"No… I need to change this. I'm not Doctor Strange," Alaric muttered, and with a slight flicker of will, the color of his clothes began to change. The dark-blue suit instantly turned a bright white, like moonlight, while the belt and straps at his wrists shone with a warm golden hue.
The change brought an entirely new energy to his appearance, simple yet noble and elegant at the same time.
He then ran his hand through his hair, adjusting his hairstyle to look even more harmonious. He smiled in satisfaction at his reflection in the mirror.
At that moment, he chuckled inwardly: now he looked like a legendary oriental immortal who had stepped out from the pages of an ancient scroll.
"Hm… but something's still missing," he muttered, gazing at his reflection in the mirror. "Immortals always have a sword… or a fan. How else can I capture the true spirit of the style?"
He raised his right hand and focused. Sparks of white light gathered in his palm and soon shaped themselves into an elegant folding fan, brilliantly white yet as solid as steel.
When he opened it, a shimmering image of rivers and mountains stretched across its wings, like an ancient Chinese ink painting, though this design was made entirely of magical energy.
But this fan was not just for decoration. As a magical weapon, it could, at his will, change its form into any other weapon, a sword, a spear, even a shield.
Perfect for both defense and attack.
"Ah, now I look like an immortal…" he commented with a smile. "Add a bit more magic and we're there."
He didn't have much time to enjoy his new appearance when Wong's voice sounded from the lower floor:
"Alaric!?"
"What is it?" he replied.
"Come downstairs!"
"Coming!"
Alaric didn't take the stairs. Instead, he gently lifted his feet off the ground and began to float, descending from the third floor through the open space of the foyer to the first.
The building, just like in the movies, was designed so that the space between floors was open, allowing sorcerers to fly between levels without obstacles.
As he elegantly set his feet down on the foyer floor, Wong and Daniel stared at him with wide eyes.
"That's… the Cloak of Levitation!?" Wong exclaimed, watching the cloak sway freely behind Alaric.
"It really recognized him as its master?" Daniel's voice was full of disbelief.
Both of them at that moment felt a mix of envy and shock. Especially Daniel, who had lived and trained at the Sanctum for years but had never witnessed the legendary Cloak of Levitation move, let alone choose someone.
And then this new young man arrives, barely having reached New York, and the cloak immediately accepts him. Moreover, he even managed to change his clothes and take on the appearance of some mythical hero.
Daniel almost boiled inside.
"Incredible…" he muttered through clenched teeth.
Wong just let out a deep sigh.
"This is… unfair," he said quietly, not taking his eyes off the young sorcerer standing before them with the cloak on his shoulders and the fan in his hand.
Though they didn't say everything they thought, both of them at that very moment had the same thought:
Alaric… you damned son.
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