The Ancient One seemed to consider it for a moment, her fingers stopping about two inches from the teacup. She deliberated for a long time before slowly withdrawing her right hand and settling back into her previous posture.
"You should understand that our paths are quite different. What I can teach you is very limited."
Seeing that the Ancient One's attitude wasn't an outright refusal, Bella was overjoyed.
Studying on her own wasn't impossible, just painfully slow. She was still stuck at the threshold between Fourth and Fifth Circle. By her own estimates, she'd need another three to five years absorbing all the knowledge Calypso had left behind and the scrolls she'd obtained from Trinity Church in New York. Only through that massive volume of study could she hope to reach the Fifth Circle.
And after that? Twenty years to reach the Sixth Circle. Fifty more for the Seventh. At least a hundred and fifty to hit the Eighth, and the Ninth was a genuine "maybe in my lifetime" scenario.
That pace wasn't actually slow—her talent was exceptional by any measure, and her current path suited her perfectly. Had she lived in the same era as the Ancient One, her achievements might well have rivaled the elder mage's. Unfortunately, she lived in the modern world.
Time wasn't on her side. She didn't have centuries to spend slowly interpreting the universe through her mind.
Give it a few years and Stark would skyrocket to the top. One spark of inspiration, a couple of all-nighters, and he might cook up some kind of anti-Bella armor that could thrash her.
Or she could go the Doctor Strange route—sell her soul piecemeal, hacking it into seventeen or eighteen chunks and bartering them to planar demons for power. The risks were absolutely obscene; someone like Ebony Maw could control Strange with trivial ease. But the growth rate was undeniably fast.
When that day came and Bella's strength was stuck in no-man's-land—too weak for the top tier, unable to climb higher or drop back down—where would that leave her?
End up like the original timeline's Black Widow, coasting along? Her pride wouldn't allow it. She refused to become someone expendable.
Willingness to participate was one thing. Ability to participate was another entirely.
Hunker down for five hundred years and emerge in 2500, for the Avengers' five-hundredth anniversary? That was just pathetic.
Right now, the only person who could mentor her and accelerate her growth was the Ancient One.
She bowed deeply.
"The magic of Kamar-Taj must be extraordinarily refined. I admire it greatly, and I'd love to learn. So many ancient texts hint at this mystical realm—it's truly inspiring! Just look at these snow-capped mountains, the pines at the gate... it's paradise! I could happily spend my whole life here. Master, you have no idea how hard it is studying alone. Look at my eyes—I read every single night until they're practically failing on me..."
She heaped praise on Kamar-Taj, and the Divine Dragon shot her a strange look. Before they'd arrived, this woman had been calling Kamar-Taj's magic "unremarkable."
After the flattery came the sob story, peppered with subtle, carefully placed hints about how dedicated a student she was.
She'd known plenty of professors and teachers in her life, and chatting with them had taught her one universal truth: professors didn't necessarily favor the brilliant students, but most of them adored the ones who loved to learn. The "insatiably studious" persona worked anywhere.
The Ancient One tilted her head slightly, studying Bella's eyes. "Really now? Your eyes look perfectly sharp to me. That's eagle-eyed vision, isn't it? I've met plenty of people like you."
Her tearful claim about reading until she went blind had been called out on the spot. Bella acted as if she hadn't heard a word of it and launched into another round of describing her hardships. The message was clear: her life was miserable and tragic.
The Ancient One lowered her gaze in thought. Under Bella's anxious, hopeful stare, she let out a soft sigh.
"If you're willing, then stay at Kamar-Taj and study for a while."
Bella was ecstatic. She darted forward, grabbed the teapot from a nearby side table, poured a fresh cup, then held it out with both hands, steady and reverent. "Master, please drink this tea."
The Ancient One couldn't help but laugh. The dynamic between them had shifted from the frosty distance of their first meeting—something warmer had crept in.
She accepted the cup and said with a quiet chuckle, "Now where did you pick up that custom? How peculiar... I don't have a son, and I'm not looking to take you on as a daughter-in-law, so there's no need to serve tea to your mother-in-law."
"Huh?!" Bella stiffened. I thought the Eastern tradition was to serve tea when becoming a disciple... Leave it to the Ancient One to go off-script.
"Hahahaha—Bella, you're so dumb!" The Divine Dragon clutched her stomach, howling with laughter.
That earned the dragon a thorough throttling, Bella's face darkening as she seized the creature by the neck and shook her back and forth.
By evening, Wong—who'd been waiting for Bella in Kathmandu until well after dark without seeing a trace of her—finally returned to Kamar-Taj. Only then did he discover she'd already been accepted as a disciple.
Through a combination of comedy, cuteness, and well-timed antics, Bella and the Divine Dragon had thoroughly charmed the Ancient One.
No matter how serene, no matter how detached from worldly concerns, she was still human. And humans had feelings.
The Ancient One was slowly developing a fondness for this new disciple.
Bella's talent was one factor; her existing accomplishments were another.
In the first three hundred years of her life, the Ancient One had taught many students—there was a part of her personality that genuinely enjoyed mentoring. The reason her desire to teach had waned over the centuries, and the number of personal disciples had dwindled, was simple: the students weren't up to par.
She was like a university professor who had to start every new student at counting to four, addition, subtraction, multiplication, division—remedial literacy. Who could endure that?
Once was novel. Twice was tolerable. After ten or so rounds, she'd burnt out completely.
Many professors enjoyed teaching undergraduates alongside their research—the process of revisiting fundamentals sometimes sparked fresh insights. But that applied to undergraduates, not first-graders. Lecturing elementary schoolers for ten thousand years wouldn't generate a single research breakthrough.
To the Ancient One, Bella wasn't an elementary student. She was at least an undergraduate. Bella had her own understanding of the Dao, of spells, and of technique. Show her a chakra diagram and she could explain the principles and processes, then offer an entirely original interpretation. That alone made her a hundred times better than the original timeline's slack-jawed Doctor Strange.
Their specialties differed, and they diverged on many fundamental concepts, but the Ancient One derived genuine satisfaction from teaching Bella—she didn't have to start from scratch explaining what magic was, or spend hours convincing someone that magic always came at a price.
When Wong cleared the dinner table, Bella was still poring over an ancient scroll with the Ancient One, deep in discussion about constructing steel golems.
She'd found this particular text among the Trinity Church treasures—over two thousand years old, an original manuscript from the Library of Alexandria. Even the perpetually unflappable Ancient One showed a flicker of emotion at the sight of such a rare artifact.