Reborn as the God-Emperor in Marvel

It was a well-known fact at Kamar-Taj that Solomon was adept at learning quirky, albeit seemingly useless, spells.

The apprentices at the Himalayan headquarters would sometimes catch sight of Solomon sitting atop an invisible floating object, clutching a bedsheet as the howling winds pushed him forward. He would ride the winds like a sail, drifting until he inevitably crashed into a wall.

At times, Baron Mordo could be seen chasing after Solomon, often appearing visibly exasperated. No matter how hard Mordo swung his staff, he could never quite catch up to Solomon, who zipped through Kamar-Taj, windsurfing with his magical sail. Mordo was frustrated with Solomon's focus on these trivial spells. In his mind, Solomon should be devoting his youth to learning powerful magic, preparing for battles against extradimensional forces. But every time Mordo raised this concern with the Sorcerer Supreme, she would dismiss his worries, saying it was Solomon's choice. Kamar-Taj did not interfere with how its members chose their magical paths. If Solomon found such spells interesting, the Sorcerer Supreme wouldn't stop him.

The belief that "magic that isn't useful in battle isn't real magic" was common at Kamar-Taj, and Mordo was no exception. He constantly tried to correct what he saw as Solomon's "misguided" choices, wanting to bring him back on the "right track" to becoming a "useful sorcerer." However, every time Mordo got close, Solomon would slip into the Mirror Dimension, disappearing without a trace.

Solomon, naturally, found Mordo's persistence quite annoying. In Solomon's view, there were no useless spells—only useless sorcerers. Any seemingly insignificant magic could become incredibly useful. Even in Kamar-Taj's training exercises, he could hold his own using a combination of Toril crystal wall magic and Vishanti magic against several opponents—though, to be fair, his training partners were usually junior apprentices. Against someone like Kaecilius or Mordo, he wouldn't have the time to recite his incantations.

"I didn't want to send you out so early, Solomon," said the Sorcerer Supreme, adding a large spoonful of honey to Solomon's tea. Solomon never understood her peculiar taste. Everything she ate was incredibly sweet, from orange soda to tea, and honey was always a staple. Nonetheless, Solomon obediently drank the overly sweet tea. In front of the Sorcerer Supreme, he always played the role of the obedient student.

"I don't want to leave either," Solomon grumbled, pouting. "Isn't it great here at Kamar-Taj? We have the internet…"

The Sorcerer Supreme, ignoring his protests, poured herself another cup of tea. "I have a task for you," she said, her tone calm but firm. "A task that only you can undertake, alone. Wong is now a steward at the Hong Kong Sanctum and doesn't have the time. Besides, this task is not something he should be aware of. I need you to track down a book—one that hasn't been seen for over two hundred years."

"A book?" Solomon's curiosity was piqued. He figured that whatever the Sorcerer Supreme was looking for had to be a significant grimoire.

"It's a dangerous book," she continued. "This will be a long mission, and I don't expect you to find it right away. The last trace of it dates back 237 years, when a witch used magic to turn a human into a vampire. The kind of magic that creates vampires comes from the Darkhold. The Book of the Vishanti is the perfect counter to it. Every spell in the Darkhold has a corresponding counterspell in the Vishanti's book."

Taking a sip of her honeyed tea, the Sorcerer Supreme added, "Your destination is Collinsport, Maine. Don't worry about Athena—I'll handle your leave of absence."

---

"Cough, cough! Cough!" Solomon struggled through a dense thicket of branches, crawling out from a patch of bushes, covered in leaves and dirt. After looking around and seeing no one nearby, he breathed a sigh of relief and used a minor spell to clean the dirt and debris off his clothes. His landing from the portal had been less than graceful. It wasn't entirely his fault; after all, he had only been able to determine the location using a map and Kamar-Taj's planetary defense system. Ending up in the middle of a bush wasn't ideal, but it wasn't the worst outcome.

Before arriving in Collinsport, Solomon had done his homework. One of the key principles ingrained in him by his mentors was that thorough research was essential before confronting any potential enemy. Solomon had taken this lesson to heart.

According to local legends, over two centuries ago, Barnabas Collins, the head of the Collins family—a prominent fishing dynasty in the area—had been turned into a vampire. Angry locals, in a fit of Puritan zeal similar to the infamous Salem witch trials, had sealed him inside a coffin. Outsiders often mocked the story as nothing more than another example of Puritan superstition. But the Sorcerer Supreme's clues confirmed that there had indeed been a vampire in Collinsport, leading Solomon to suspect that Barnabas Collins was the same vampire.

Still, Solomon found it hard to believe.

Even a weak vampire wouldn't be so easily subdued by ordinary people. However, the mention of a witch by the Sorcerer Supreme raised red flags. His primary objective was to find this witch. If she could curse someone into becoming a vampire, she had undoubtedly come into contact with the Darkhold or, at the very least, knowledge related to it. Solomon had also learned that the Collinswood estate had burned down in 1972 and was later rebuilt, which only deepened his suspicion.

Instead of recklessly barging into Collinswood to investigate, Solomon first visited the local library to dig deeper into the town's history.

1972 had been a tumultuous year for Collinsport. Not only did the Collins family's estate catch fire, but the bodies of 11 workers were discovered in the woods off Highway 9, creating a media frenzy. After poring over the dusty old newspapers, Solomon found detailed reports of the workers' throats being torn out, leading the police to suspect a deranged killer. Additionally, a black coffin had been unearthed near the construction site along the highway.

As Solomon studied the blood-soaked photos in the newspapers, his heart began to race. The dim lighting of the library's corners only intensified his sense of unease. Digging further, he uncovered another report: a catastrophic explosion at the Collins family's cannery that same year. The article, written with a mocking tone, hinted at the dramatic love-hate relationship between the Collins family and another local fishing tycoon, Angelique Bouchard, as well as her mysterious disappearance following the fire at Collinswood.

What struck Solomon as particularly odd was that, after this, it seemed everyone had forgotten that Angelique Bouchard had disappeared at Collinswood. Subsequent newspaper reports consistently claimed she had vanished from her own home.

Growing more suspicious, Solomon sifted through even older newspapers.

Though the ink had faded and the images were blurry, it was impossible to miss Angelique's striking beauty. With her flowing, slightly wavy golden hair and deep red lips, she had garnered much public support after her mother's death. Like her mother, Angelique was known for her sharp business acumen, controlling 95% of the shipping fleet in the area, leaving the once-mighty Collins family struggling to maintain their vast estate.

After hours of painstaking research, aided by some charm spells, Solomon finally found an old family portrait of the Bouchards in the library's dusty archives. Strangely, no male members of the Bouchard family had ever had their portraits painted, and there had always been speculation among the locals about the identity of Angelique's father.

But despite the differences in hair color, Solomon immediately noticed that Angelique Bouchard bore an uncanny resemblance to her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. They all looked almost identical.

This is the witch! Solomon realized with a start.

But where is she now?

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