American comics: Starting with Luke the Maker

The howling wind roared across the sky like an enraged, invisible dragon, whipping up snow and ice that mingled with the frigid air to become biting, cold blades.

The world was a vast, hazy expanse, a blinding white sheet.

It exuded an ancient loneliness and desolation.

However, Doctor Stephen Strange couldn't spare the time to carefully appreciate this rare, desolate natural beauty. His expression was one of absurdity after his worldview had been shattered, coupled with shivers brought on by the encroaching cold. His head darted back and forth between the snow-covered ground and a sparking circle two meters behind him.

On the other side of the circle lay warmth, shelter, people, a world he knew.

"This is fake, right?" Strange muttered, trembling as he crouched down, grabbing a handful of the thick snow beneath him. The biting cold sent another jolt through him, instantly clearing his muddled mind.

"The line between reality and illusion is very fragile in the face of magic. Let's go." Mordo, his host, stepped through the circle. He glanced briefly at Luke, who seemed unaffected by the environment or the mental shock, unlike Doctor Strange, before focusing his attention on the doctor.

"Magic? Good heavens, I only came along to attend a medical seminar." Stephen Strange had wanted to say, "Magic? I don't believe magic exists," but the sparking circle behind him, the completely transformed, incredibly real environment he had stepped into, prevented him from uttering those words.

"Stop complaining, Doctor Strange. You need to prepare yourself for a new world and a new life." Luke patted him on the shoulder and followed Mordo forward. He could already see the vague outline of a building in the snowstorm.

"What do you mean? Are you going to leave me here? That's not what we agreed to in our contract!"

"Damn it, how can you withstand the cold when you're dressed as thinly as I am? I'm freezing to the bone. Every inch of my flesh, every cell, is screaming for warmth. I feel like I'm going to freeze to death here in just a few minutes."

Stephen struggled to pull his feet out of the snow, feeling the heat in his body dissipating with every gust of wind that swept over him. Each gust stole more and more of his body heat. In just those twenty or thirty seconds, his body had already begun to stiffen.

However, the two ahead ignored him, leaving Doctor Strange to sigh inwardly and trudge after them. If he didn't follow, he would soon become a frozen corpse.

He, Stephen Strange! A brilliant neurosurgeon! Countless dignitaries and wealthy individuals relied on him to save their lives! He had money, connections, prestige, and a long, bright future ahead of him. He didn't want to end his life in this desolate place because of a consulting job.

His loss would be a great loss to the medical world!

Suddenly, as Stephen hugged himself, shivering and stumbling after the two ahead, something soft and jelly-like struck his face with the oncoming wind. As he instinctively reached up to pull it off, the jelly-like substance quickly dissolved into his skin.

Soon, a warm current surged from within his body, dispelling the chill and making his stiff body feel as if it had drunk a cup of hot tea. Even more miraculously, the howling wind seemed to no longer affect his body temperature. He felt as if he were walking in a park in perpetual spring.

Well, except for the thick snow underfoot, which still made it physically demanding.

...

"Mage."

Mordo and the others soon entered a building. In a spacious hall, they met the Ancient One. Dressed in a simple yellow robe, the person appeared young, yet exuded a sense of profoundness that could only come from a great deal of time.

A jelly-like substance seeped out of Stephen's chest and, to his astonishment, flew like a swallow returning to its nest, into Luke's hand, where it transformed into a glove and disappeared.

"A very peculiar life form." The Ancient One glanced at the disappearing Little Habb in Luke's hand and spoke softly, gracefully arranging teacups on the coffee table. "Would you like some tea?"

"Thank you." Luke sat down opposite the Ancient One, bringing Stephen with him.

"You didn't tell me you were a mage!" Stephen felt a pang of regret as the warmth in his body disappeared, but seeing what had just happened, he knew that Luke had helped him. He lowered his voice and complained to Luke.

"I wouldn't call myself a mage. Although I can use some simple energy-shaping tricks." Luke shook his head, correcting Stephen. Although, from an outsider's perspective, Luke's methods might resemble magic, he knew that he relied on technology and equipment to achieve similar effects, unlike the mages who could use incredible magic without any equipment.

There was a clear distinction between the two.

"You have some very peculiar energy fluctuations. May I take a look?" The Ancient One placed two steaming cups of tea on the table beside them and looked at Luke.

"Of course." Luke readily took out a rectangular metal box about ten centimeters long from his pocket and opened it in front of the Ancient One and Mordo, revealing a tube of clear, sparkling liquid that seemed to contain starlight.

"A very pure form of magical energy." The Ancient One held it in their hand and gave their evaluation.

"I may be being presumptuous, but I've heard from some sources that there's no such thing as magical energy on Earth, and that mages are able to use magic because they draw upon the power of other dimensional deities, is that correct?" Luke picked up his teacup, took a sip, and asked.

The Ancient One's expression remained calm, but the eyes of Mordo, standing behind them, sharpened instantly.

"That is correct. The source of power for us, the Sorcerer Supreme lineage, comes from the Vishanti, the source of white magic." The Ancient One answered without concealment.

"And there would be corresponding limitations, right? For example, the source can cut off the energy supply at any time." Luke suggested a possibility, even though the Vishanti would not normally do so.

"You are very accurate." The Ancient One remained unhurried. For someone of their strength, losing the Vishanti was no big deal. There was Dormammu, and if not him, there was Eternity and other dimensional deities she could exploit. Unless all the dimensional deities died or hid where she couldn't find them, she didn't need to worry about it.

But for other mages, this could be a fatal weakness. For example, Mordo's expression was not very good at the moment.

"Then would you be willing to build a magical energy source for Earth's mages? Even if it's just to be prepared for a rainy day." Luke pointed to the vial in the Ancient One's hand. "I can provide the technology, and the mages can participate in the entire process."

...