Multiverse: Deathstroke-Chapter 510: The Principal Chosen

"Yes, this is Mihal," The Ancient One said. "His ancestors were the ’Kan,’ enlightened monks from thousands of years ago who saw through the illusions of the world, then returned to it. His family has served as guardians of justice for millennia, swearing allegiance to me under Vishanti centuries ago."

Seeing Su Ming recognize Hamir, The Ancient One smiled faintly, as if confirming she’d chosen her successor well.

In the films, when Doctor Strange first arrived at Kamar-Taj, the goateed old man he mistook for the Sorcerer Supreme was Hamir. Now, though, Hamir was far younger—no trace of that iconic beard. Among Kamar-Taj’s many mages, he was the one often seen at The Ancient One’s side, which was how Su Ming recognized the bespectacled figure.

The Ancient One left out a few of Hamir’s talents. Beyond being an exceptional martial artist and mage, he was a skilled traditional healer, a master of calligraphy, and could cook otherworldly ingredients. Tentacles, eyeballs, or slime—he could turn them into medicinal dishes, a skill passed down to his descendants.

In the normal timeline, Wong, Doctor Strange’s companion, was Hamir’s son. Su Ming wondered if Wong was born yet. If he was, he’d probably be a chubby kid.

As The Ancient One’s guardian, Hamir was reserved, almost stern, with the air of a rigid scholar.

"But if Hamir leaves, who’ll guard the library?" Su Ming asked politely.

"This is Kamar-Taj," The Ancient One replied lightly.

The library was just a hobby for a guardian. The Sorcerer Supreme was too powerful to need protection. The library, filled with countless magical tomes and artifacts from other dimensions, was watched over by guardians like a butler guarding their master’s treasures. But in truth, no one could approach it without The Ancient One noticing.

Su Ming eyed Hamir, still in his Taoist robes. In a suit, his serious demeanor might actually pass for an educator’s. "Do you speak English?" Su Ming asked.

"Yes," Hamir replied, stepping beside him, his answer clipped.

"Have you taught students before?"

"I have," Hamir nodded. He held the title of Master and had mentored others.

Su Ming stroked his chin. "And if a student misbehaves?"

"Discipline," Hamir said simply. In this era, that meant a ruler to the palm—or, if needed, a whack with the Staff of the Living Tribunal.

"Perfect," Su Ming said, slapping the armrest. "You’re hired. I’m entrusting you with a massive academy, even if it’s empty for now. I’m not big on corporal punishment—copying school rules should suffice for kids—but we’ll figure that out later."

Loyalty was what sold Su Ming. Hamir’s family had been devoted to the Sorcerer Supreme for generations. Though Su Ming wasn’t keen on taking that role, its perks were undeniable.

Hamir merely nodded, silent.

"You seem pleased with him," The Ancient One said, setting down her tea as a copper kettle floated over to refill it. "But I have one condition."

Su Ming braced himself. Here it comes—the catch. "Of course, Master. Name it."

"If Hamir finds children with magical potential at the school, I want him to bring them to Kamar-Taj. We need fresh blood. Protecting Earth always demands sacrifice."

"As you wish," Su Ming agreed. "Safeguarding this planet, its dimensions, and timelines is my goal too."

He knew it was true. Ordinary lives seemed peaceful, but without The Ancient One and Kamar-Taj, otherworldly demons would overrun the main dimension, turning it upside down. In the neighboring DC universe, with no dimensional shield, Constantine and others made a living exorcising spirits. Marvel’s world would’ve been the same, but The Ancient One held the line. In the normal timeline, that protection crumbled after Strange took over, leaving Earth vulnerable.

This was Su Ming’s home base. He couldn’t let it fall to chaos.

The Ancient One nodded, pleased. Kamar-Taj had long been a training ground for the children of allied mage families, off-limits to outsiders. But recent threats, like Kang the Conqueror, showed her the need for change. Expanding recruitment to include ordinary people—especially orphans—was the future.

In the eyes of purists, brainwashing kids to foster loyalty might seem dark, but The Ancient One would do anything to protect Earth. Kamar-Taj was short on mages, many of whom preferred seclusion. Scouring the globe for orphans was a challenge she’d planned to tackle herself. Now, with Su Ming’s school gathering them, she could simply select the best.

Su Ming noted the shift in history—a positive one. The Ancient One was turning Kamar-Taj into a Hogwarts of sorts. Hopefully, it wouldn’t spawn terms like "pure-blood" or "mudblood." And good luck building a railway to the Himalayas.

Graduates of Legacy Academy would serve Su Ming. Kamar-Taj’s would serve the Sorcerer Supreme. If Su Ming wanted those mages’ power, he’d have to take the mantle. The Ancient One likely had that in mind. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

The thought of commanding an army of mages was tempting. Very tempting.

"I’ll take my leave," Su Ming said, bowing slightly. "I need to find students."

The Ancient One smiled, knowing he was hooked. It was only a matter of time.

Hamir bowed to her and followed Su Ming, grabbing a small blue bundle and, oddly, a black wok. They stepped through a portal back to the New York Sanctum.

"Hello, Master Mordo," Su Ming said, spotting the young mage just outside.

Mordo bowed back. "Master Wilson, greetings."

Su Ming gave an awkward smile and moved on. Master? Weapons Master? Tactics Master? Why did that title sound so strange coming from mages?

Mordo brushed snow from his head, adjusted his robes, and went to see The Ancient One. "Teacher, Mephisto sent a message. He wants to negotiate terms."

The Ancient One gazed at the fire heating her kettle, thoughtful. "Allowing him to recruit Ghost Riders in the main dimension is my limit. Tell him there’s nothing more to discuss."

"As you command," Mordo replied.

Back in New York, Hamir carried his bundle and wok. Su Ming found the wok puzzling. Sure, finding a proper cooking spoon in America might be tough, but with Wilson Enterprises’ factories, making a pan was no issue. Maybe it was a sentimental thing—or some mystical artifact disguised as cookware.

Was the school about to start a culinary program? Eight hundred stainless stoves, three thousand master chefs—learn to cook, secure a job! Su Ming shook off the bizarre thought, rubbing his temples as he left the sanctum.

Garth’s car was still outside, the man himself smoking inside. "Boss."

Su Ming just grinned and patted his shoulder. No need to call another ride. They’d head to headquarters, get Hamir some suits, and throw a welcome dinner. Tomorrow, he’d start as principal.

Honestly, if Hamir ditched the rustic blue robes, he’d have a high-cold scholar vibe. Where Deadpool’s chatter gave Su Ming headaches, Hamir was a breath of fresh air—speaking only when necessary, though lacking humor and modern know-how.

He understood cars in theory but had never ridden in one, let alone driven. No matter. Su Ming waved it off, assigning him a luxury car from their factories and a driver. Hamir couldn’t exactly sling spells around campus—he’d need a civilian cover.

After introducing him to Garth, the ride back was quiet. At headquarters, Su Ming sent Garth to handle Hamir’s arrangements while he returned to his office to prepare.

Tomorrow, he’d head to Europe to check on the Infinity Formula’s research progress. If possible, he’d swipe some from Hydra. With his "Adjutant" on board, she could take over the science. Reverse-engineering the formula was tough, but replicating it should be doable.

He’d seen Vodka earlier, looking half-dead from age. The Infinity Formula extended life but required regular doses. Controlling it meant controlling people.

Marvel had a few longevity serums, many derived from the Super Soldier Serum. If those were out of reach, Su Ming had another option: his own blood, laced with Mirakuru—DC’s "Miracle Serum" from WWII Japan. It boosted strength, healing, and brain function but had severe side effects and little impact on lifespan. If other serums failed, he’d have Adjutant study his blood, tweaking it to prioritize longevity over raw power.

After all, he had plenty of blood to spare.