Marvel’s Master of Heavenly Magic

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*****

"It should be around here!" After a brief search, George noticed that the arrow kept shifting within a hundred-meter radius. He instructed Issa to hover the invisible plane in mid-air and jumped out of the aircraft himself.

"I've found it."

Suspended above a valley adjacent to the desert, George used binoculars to spot a crude military base built near a cave. The base was filled with missiles bearing the Stark Industries logo, while poorly equipped terrorists armed with various firearms patrolled the area.

Instead of attacking immediately, George used the cover of night to quietly land near the valley. He found a suitable vantage point for sniping and took out the rifle strapped to his back.

He wasn’t sure if there were any hidden guards in the corners of the valley beyond the visible ones. If he launched an attack right away, the visible guards wouldn’t stand a chance. But if there were snipers lying in wait, he might not have time to react.

It was a shame he hadn’t yet learned the Invisibility Charm, an advanced spell taught in upper years. If he could turn invisible, he could infiltrate without anyone noticing.

"I need to find a way to make them show themselves."

George put down the sniper rifle, thinking for a moment before an idea came to him.

"Wyrm, emerge!"

"Wyrm, emerge!"

"Wyrm, emerge!"

With each incantation, desert rattlesnakes appeared by George’s side.

In the magical world of Harry Potter, the power of spells varies depending on the wizard's skill level. For example, while Dumbledore could summon a sea of flames, a young wizard could only manage a small spark. The Killing Curse from an experienced wizard was lethal, but from a student, it might cause little more than a nosebleed.

However, magic in the Harry Potter world wasn’t limited by an individual’s magical reserves. A wizard could cast spells continuously without depleting their magic. The only drawback would be physical fatigue from prolonged casting, similar to how one would tire after waving their arms for hours. But with enough determination, it was possible to cast magic for 24 hours straight.

George wasn’t exactly sure how this worked. He speculated that wizards either had the ability to convert external energy into magic or had an extraordinarily fast magical recovery rate, like a video game character whose mana regenerated a hundred times faster than normal, ensuring it never ran out.

Either way, it wasn’t something he needed to concern himself with right now.

What mattered was that George could take advantage of his seemingly endless magical reserve to continuously cast the Serpent-Summoning Charm and build an army of venomous snakes.

"I guess I really am a true Slytherin," George muttered, flexing his arms, which had grown sore from repeatedly casting the spell. His voice was hoarse from hours of chanting.

Since the spell required specific gestures, George had been able to summon only six or seven snakes per minute. After more than two hours of non-stop casting, he had conjured over a thousand desert rattlesnakes.

"I need to learn how to make a wand soon," he mused.

With a wand, he could cast up to thirty Serpent-Summoning Charms per minute, meaning he could summon a thousand snakes in just over half an hour.

"Go, bite anyone you find!" George commanded.

At his order, the thousand-strong snake army dispersed, slithering down the valley to begin their search.

No matter how well-hidden the terrorists were, they wouldn't escape the thorough search of the venomous snakes.

As soon as someone was bitten, even if they didn’t die immediately, they’d have to abandon their posts and seek medical attention. That would be George’s perfect moment to strike.

"Ah, snakes!"

Sure enough, it didn’t take long for George to hear screams from all corners of the valley. Although he couldn’t understand what they were shouting, it was obvious his summoned snakes had begun attacking.

Gunfire quickly followed as the guards on the valley floor scrambled to rescue their comrades, who were being overwhelmed by the snake attack.

At the same time, a frantic underling burst into the base leader's room within the cave:

"Boss! Something’s wrong! Our men outside are getting bitten by snakes!"

"You idiot, if you've been bitten by a snake, just take the antidote and treat it! It's not like this hasn't happened before."

The bald-headed boss, who had leapt out of bed thinking the base had been discovered by the military, calmed down as soon as he heard it was just a snake bite. Angrily, he kicked the subordinate to the ground. In the desert, snake bites were common, and using some traditional remedies and the right medicine usually fixed the problem. To disturb him over something so trivial? Clearly, this lackey had no sense.

"Boss, it's not just one snake—there are hundreds, at least!"

The underling stood up, explaining with a hint of grievance.

The boss froze upon hearing this.

"Hundreds of snakes? You can't be serious!"

It's normal for there to be snakes in the desert, but hundreds? Even if you stumbled upon a nest, it shouldn't be this many.

But soon, reality hit him. As he switched on the monitors showing the area outside the cave, he saw a writhing mass of snakes attacking his men. His scalp tingled as he watched.

"Leave two men to guard Tony Stark. Everyone else, grab flamethrowers and come with me. We'll be eating roasted snake by morning!"

The boss, despite his growing unease, quickly formulated a plan. Guns were useless against the sheer number of snakes; it'd be like using a cannon to swat flies—ineffective and more trouble than it was worth. Flamethrowers were the best option.

Meanwhile, inside the cave, Tony Stark had been startled by the commotion outside. He tried peeking through the gap in the door, but the two guards at the iron gate yelled at him fiercely, driving him back.

Over two months ago, Tony had been captured by these terrorists while demonstrating his latest weapon, a large-scale missile, for the military. During the chaos of the attack, one of his own missiles injured him, and it was only thanks to the doctor Yinsen, who was also a prisoner, that Tony survived.

From Yinsen, Tony learned that the weapons he had designed to protect the country were being used to slaughter innocent people. He also realized that the only reason the terrorists hadn’t killed him yet was because they wanted him to build them an advanced missile to help them conquer the world.

This revelation had nearly driven Tony to despair, and he had even considered taking his own life.

But it was Yinsen’s words that had reignited Tony’s will to live, inspiring him to create a miniature version of the arc reactor. He had already begun designing his first Iron Man suit.

"Don't worry. I don’t think this is about us. Seems like something's going wrong outside," Tony reassured Yinsen.

"That's a relief," Yinsen sighed in response.

They had just begun assembling parts for the Iron Man suit. If they were caught now, it would be a death sentence.

Outside the cave, George watched the venomous snakes gradually retreat under the onslaught of flamethrowers. One by one, the injured guards were being carried into the cave. Quietly, George set up his sniper rifle.

"I didn’t expect the boss to come out personally. Perfect, let’s start with you," he muttered to himself as he took aim.

(End of Chapter)