Reborn as the God-Emperor in Marvel

"I don't know any Sherlock Holmes, but Stephen Strange is an extremely talented individual. His magical abilities may not surpass yours, but he possesses a foresight that neither you nor I have," the Grandmaster said. "I've already arranged his education, and he will eventually become a qualified Sorcerer Supreme."

"Teacher, haven't you shared your plan with others?" Solomon asked. "They don't understand what a Holy Spirit means, nor do they realize how much progress the materialization of a soul represents. Most people equate biological functions with life, and once these stop, they see it as death. They will be saddened by your departure."

"That's inevitable. I can't continue to shoulder this burden. This world needs progress, and I am just a stepping stone for that. If my death helps Strange become a qualified Sorcerer Supreme, I am willing. But you know, the death of the body and the death of the soul are different, don't you?"

When the Grandmaster spoke of her own death, she showed no hesitation. In fact, she talked about it as casually as discussing dinner. With a mischievous glint, she said, "I'm looking forward to the day I appear before Strange again. He'll be so happy. He certainly won't be angry that I deceived him with my death."

"If by then he understands what the Holy Spirit is, the touching scene you anticipate may not happen," Solomon replied helplessly, surprised at her sense of humor. "But I think by that time, Strange might not even know such things. He'll probably think you're a Halloween ghost and cast a spell to banish you, just like any other annual ghost cleanup."

"Care to bet an apple pie?"

"If you can still eat by then, I agree."

"I've only just realized something," the Grandmaster shifted to another topic. "In Kamar-Taj, almost everyone has lived in human society at some point. Even children from mystical families grow up in the mundane world before choosing whether or not to become mystics. But you, Solomon, you've been under my education since birth. Aside from me, you've been influenced by Athena and others who've lived for eons.

I'm starting to wonder if I educated you too much ahead of your time. Not in terms of magic, but in terms of life perspective. Mordo and Kaecilius were right to object. You shouldn't be burdened with such heavy emotional weights at this stage.

People in the mundane world are often clouded by various thoughts, not because of soul-parasites from higher dimensions, but because from birth, they are bombarded with information—from schools, parents, friends, and even social media. These desires ignite a person, driving them with light and heat. But they also bring cravings for wealth, glory, beauty, and status. These desires fuel a person's life, as they have since ancient times.

That's why I ask my apprentices to seek peace within their souls. But you, from the very beginning, have had a soul that's unnervingly calm. When you were young, I even thought you had autism. I can't see what you truly desire. Your only pursuit is magic, but even that is more curiosity than craving—you don't even know how to handle your own desires. You have vast resources, yet I've never seen you spend on anything frivolous. Buying a second-hand bike or having meals with Wong doesn't count, nor do the snacks in the fridge."

"I thought introducing you to Bayonetta might stir some passion in you, but I see no attachment in your eyes. And it's not because she's five centuries older than you. You know your lifespan will far exceed that. Tell me, Solomon, are you afraid of death because of any attachment to this world?"

"I..." Solomon was at a loss. He didn't know how to respond, sensing an odd lack of fear towards death. Instead, he saw it as a peaceful state. Were it not for this, he wouldn't be discussing death so openly with the Grandmaster. Despite the age and experience gap between them, Solomon couldn't help but feel that these views had been instilled in him by the memories in his Stigmata. Yet, being so involved, he convinced himself they were his own thoughts.

Seeing Solomon's silence, the Grandmaster continued.

"Everything you do falls within the rules. I've never seen you act outside them. You've placed your emotions beneath them. That's both good and bad because no rule is flawless, not even the ones I've set for Kamar-Taj. You can sacrifice yourself and others without hesitation to achieve a goal, yet you struggle to judge if that goal is right or wrong. This is where Strange surpasses you—he has the resolve to break rules to do what's right.

You don't need to learn from him, nor can you. Your sympathy for the Collins family and Theresa is one of the few times I've seen you express emotion. This is good because it shows me you haven't entirely lost human feelings.

While I'm pleased that you adhere to the rules I've set, I don't want your soul to be as old and weary as mine while you're still young. Youth should be filled with flowers and wine. Solomon, where do you place yourself? Are you a mystic, or just a young man?"

"But I feel fine," Solomon frowned. "I don't feel any desires beyond exploring magic. The biological urges I experience are just because of my developing body. I don't need fancy cars, fine wine, wealth, or status. I find all that tedious."

The Grandmaster fell silent, her conflicting expectations weighing against each other. Ultimately, her softer side won, though temporarily. She said, "That's your problem, my dear apprentice. I want you to be a person, not just a vessel for the Stigmata. You need human emotions and desires, whatever they may be. Don't become like me. That path leads only to suffering."

"I don't feel any suffering, Teacher—just some discomfort when making decisions," Solomon said. "If you're worried about my relationship with Bayonetta, it's just that I think we have plenty of time. There's no rush."

"That's exactly the problem, Solomon. You're unaware of it," the Grandmaster sighed. "I think you need more than just magic training at Kamar-Taj and art lessons with Athena. You need a normal life. You shouldn't go to school just for exams. How many classmates do you even know? Bayonetta and Jeanne need a break, and so do you. You should enjoy a bit of normal life, away from battles. Maybe meeting some lively young girls will change your mind."

"You're forcing me to integrate into mundane society, Teacher," Solomon said. "You know this won't change anything."

"Who knows?" the Grandmaster said. "But for now, Kaecilius is very eager to send you to school."

Indeed, Kaecilius was the most enthusiastic about Solomon attending school. When Solomon saw him again, he barely recognized him. Kaecilius was dressed in a neatly pressed brown suit, his hair cut short and meticulously styled, and his shoes shined to perfection. The bitter and vengeful look he once wore was completely gone.

"I've been waiting for this day for a long time," Kaecilius said with a smile, folding a handkerchief into his left breast pocket, revealing a perfect triangle of white fabric. Standing beside him, Mordo also looked satisfied. Both had long believed that the Grandmaster's education for Solomon was too advanced, and it was time for him to experience normal life. Before joining Kamar-Taj, Mordo had been a noble, and Kaecilius a married man with children. They understood the importance of normal life for a person. Spending all day immersed in the strange world of magic wasn't good for a boy.

"Although you passed the CE exam (UK's Year 8 transfer exam), you haven't attended any classes. You're already fourteen, yet you've never gone through the GCSE phase," Kaecilius said. "I even have a car, which the Grandmaster approved, and it's a British license plate. Don't worry, I've been sober ever since joining Kamar-Taj."

"I'm not going to any full-time private school. Forget it," Solomon said, glaring. "Don't even think about it."

---

"Alright, Mr. Kaecilius, as Solomon's guardian, you must understand this is inappropriate." In the school office, two chairs sat in front of the desk. Kaecilius and Solomon sat quietly, facing the stern-faced headmistress, Mrs. Serville.

"Our school has no dress code, and wearing rings is a personal matter, but imprinting those rings on someone's face is another issue," Mrs. Serville said forcefully, slapping her hand on the wooden desk.

Solomon was wearing his regular dark coat, but through magic, his Saint Fabric appeared as a regular jacket. However, the three Vishanti rings and the demon-summoning ring from Belial couldn't be hidden.

Things had started off well. Mrs. Serville was delighted when Solomon first appeared at school, as many lessons simply couldn't be replaced by homeschooling, even with his exceptional grades. But the problem was that humans are social creatures, and sudden newcomers often cause discomfort.

Solomon's appearance differed slightly from the typical Saxon look, but his good looks quickly won over most of the girls. Despite Solomon politely greeting them, he avoided further interaction, which aroused jealousy among some boys in his class, who were just entering puberty.

Though Solomon wasn't interested in their childish rivalries, they still tried to ambush him in the bathroom. Naturally, Solomon dealt with them swiftly by dunking their heads in the toilet without

 using a single spell. These boys usually relied on their size to bully others and attract girls' attention—typical behavior in adolescence, especially in early-maturing Western countries, where it often escalated into bullying.

"When they bully others, I don't see you getting this upset, Mrs. Serville," Solomon said impatiently. "I showed restraint. They didn't break any bones, and they don't even need the nurse. At most, they'll be sore for a few days. Consider it a lesson for them."

"I fully support my ward's act of self-defense," Kaecilius stood up, placing his hands on the desk and leaning forward. His expressionless face exuded an oppressive aura, causing Mrs. Serville to instinctively back away. "I believe it's those unruly students you should be disciplining, not my ward. The fact that this incident occurred under your supervision speaks volumes. I'm sure I can find somewhere to file a complaint. London has plenty of human rights organizations—I'll find a few."

"I..." Mrs. Serville was speechless.

"I think it's time we left," Kaecilius said, fastening the second button of his suit jacket. "Tomorrow, I'll bring Solomon to school on time."

Once they were outside the school, Kaecilius couldn't hold back his laughter.

"Kid," Kaecilius threw his arm around Solomon's neck, "if you didn't get into a fight, it wouldn't count as a real school experience. But I've got to say, you did well. Those little punks deserved it. Now, you just need to find yourself a girlfriend, and your life will be complete."

"You know I'm not interested in that stuff," Solomon said helplessly. "You see, normal life and I just don't mix. Why did you even bring me to school?"

"The Grandmaster says so, so we do it. No questions asked," Kaecilius said. "I saw the face of that guy, Yuri. Your uppercut was perfect. Now, you're officially a man. Want a beer? Tell me about the fight—it must've been a great story."

"Don't tell anyone."

"If I told anyone I gave you a beer, the cops would come after me," Kaecilius said, extending his fist. "Deal?"

"Deal," Solomon said, bumping his fist.

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