The low rumble of thunder echoed from the edge of the sky. People walked briskly through the rainy night, heads down and coats drawn tight, paying no attention to the heavens above. Thus, almost no one noticed the spectacle unfolding in the cosmic veil above Earth: from the far reaches of the star-strewn universe, a radiant seven-colored rainbow bridge blazed a path toward the planet, descending swiftly and silently.
Daniel was suddenly engulfed in a blinding kaleidoscope of light. Before he could react, his body was swept along the multicolored current of the Rainbow Bridge. The force guiding him was irresistible. An immense pressure bore down on him, powerful enough to crush any ordinary person. If not for the physical resilience he had cultivated during his years of survival in Jotunheim, he would have been obliterated in an instant by the sheer weight of the universe.
There was no time to admire the grandeur of the Rainbow Bridge. The next moment, Daniel was violently ejected from it and slammed hard into solid ground. It felt as though a truck had hit him full-force; pain surged through every nerve in his body.
"Damn it, Heimdall! What the hell are you doing?!" Daniel barked furiously at the stormy night sky, paying no heed to the downpour beating down on him. Rain slapped against his face and shoulders, but he barely noticed. His anger was too intense.
And really, who wouldn't be pissed?
He had just been tending to a new batch of plants in Jotunheim—rare sprouts he had spent years cultivating—when Heimdall abruptly hurled him back to Earth without warning or permission.
Years ago, Daniel had been flung into Jotunheim by Heimdall in the first place, all because he had dared to touch the Cosmic Cube.
Back then, at the end of World War II, Daniel had tampered with the Red Skull's plane. After the crash involving Captain Steve Rogers, Daniel had tracked the wreckage to the Arctic, retraced the flight route, and located the Cosmic Cube by analyzing residual gamma radiation patterns. But the moment he reached out to grasp the artifact, the Cube exploded in a burst of dark-blue light, enveloping him entirely.
When the light faded, he found himself in the frigid wasteland of Jotunheim.
By sheer luck—and skill—Daniel survived. He possessed a unique magical ability: he could stimulate the growth of plants, a power incredibly rare in Jotunheim's frozen hellscape. In a land where Frost Giants relied on fishing beneath hundreds of meters of ice for sustenance, his ability was nearly divine.
Food sources had been dwindling for years, and although full famine hadn't yet arrived, it was a looming threat. Not due to extinction, but because the loss of the ancient Casket of Winters had made it impossible for the Frost Giants to regulate their environment.
To King Laufey, Daniel's power to grow plants resembled a rudimentary form of environmental control magic. That resemblance alone was enough to earn him a place among the giants—one not without tension, but tolerable.
All of it, however, could be traced back to Heimdall—or even Odin, operating from the shadows.
Although the Cosmic Cube had been left on Earth, it was never out of Heimdall's sight. When the Red Skull stole it from a church in Norway, he had unknowingly invited the gaze of the Asgardian sentinel. During the final conflict, the Cube's energy activated unexpectedly, transporting the Red Skull to a distant planet, where he became a ghostly guardian bound to the Soul Stone.
A form of divine punishment, perhaps, for killing a priest in a church that worshipped Odin?
Daniel's exile seemed no different. He had already begun practicing Asgardian rune magic, making him an ideal target for Heimdall's manipulations. With one burst of blinding light, he was exiled to the Sea of Jotunheim for more than fifty years.
And now, without warning, he was back. Thankfully, he had been cautious enough to keep his belongings close at all times. Had he not, they might have been lost forever in that icy realm.
No matter what, he had returned. And while he had been away, his magic—especially his command of ice—had grown exponentially. Decades of practice under Laufey's tutelage had transformed him into a master of frost magic. His lifespan had also increased significantly as a result.
When Daniel first arrived in this world, he thought he'd come too early. The age of superheroes—the true golden era—was still decades away. He had appeared in the wrong time: during the blood and brutality of World War II. For years, he considered freezing himself like Steve Rogers or the Winter Soldier to leap through time.
In the end, though, life had frozen him in a different way.
The rain that lashed his face brought him back to the present. The skies were black with roiling clouds, lit by jagged bolts of lightning. Wind howled as water fell in sheets across the land. It felt almost as if the Earth itself was greeting him with a tempestuous welcome.
But that thought stirred unease. Why had Heimdall returned him now? Was Odin involved again?
Daniel exhaled slowly, brushing damp hair from his face. Right now, the most pressing question was: where—and when—was he? Although he'd vanished decades ago, he had left behind many things. If those assets still existed, they would be a treasure trove. The real problem was whether anyone would be willing to give them back.
He was just about to seek shelter when he suddenly froze.
His eyes narrowed and slowly turned toward a large tree in the distance. It seemed undisturbed, but Daniel sensed the truth—someone was there. Someone cloaked in invisibility magic was watching him closely.
In a heartbeat, Daniel summoned his oak wand. The gem at the tip blazed with a flash of white light, cutting across the dark like a sword. The beam struck the hidden figure, dispelling their illusion. In that instant, the observer was revealed.
No hostility radiated from the stranger. If there had been any, the spell would've been deflected. Daniel's brows furrowed slightly as he studied the man.
"A mage from Kamar-Taj?" Daniel asked, voice hoarse but sharp. The man was middle-aged, with dark skin, a shaved head, and clothed in monk-like robes. He held a long-handled staff and wore a calm, steady expression.
"You're... an Earthling?" the Kamar-Taj mage asked, his surprise genuine. He hadn't expected the "alien" intruder to look so human—or to speak English, even if his accent was slightly off.
"I was taken from Earth some time ago. I've just now returned," Daniel replied, his voice gradually clearing.
"I see. In that case, I'll take my leave." The mage gave a respectful nod. "My name is Drum. If you ever need assistance, find me at 177A Bleecker Street."
With that, his Sling Ring rotated in his hand. A glowing portal spiraled open, and within seconds, Drum vanished into the doorway, which snapped shut behind him.
Only then did Daniel finally relax. The last thing he wanted was to clash with Kamar-Taj's sorcerers—especially not on Earth, where their advantage was undeniable.
Over the centuries, Kamar-Taj had become nearly untouchable. Their mastery of Earth's dimensional defense network allowed them to teleport anywhere at will. The magical world had been steadily declining in strength, but Kamar-Taj had only grown stronger, hoarding powerful artifacts and mastering the secrets of magic with the backing of cosmic forces like the Time Stone—and the Trinity of the Vishanti: Agamotto, Oshtur, and Hoggoth.
This power kept most supernatural groups from challenging them. After all, no mage wanted to be the lone bulwark against interdimensional demons and horrors.
Kamar-Taj rarely interfered with Earth's internal conflicts. Even if humanity destroyed itself with nuclear weapons, they wouldn't lift a finger unless the threat was extradimensional.
Their sanctums remained hidden from the world through masterful illusion—so effective even the IRS hadn't knocked on their doors. But there were still things their magic couldn't hide.
Daniel turned his head slowly toward a figure he had sensed moments ago—lurking just outside a nearby playground fence.
This time, he didn't wait.
With a single step, he appeared behind the figure.
"Girl, it's not very polite to spy on strangers," he said softly.
The girl jumped in shock, spinning around. She gripped her umbrella like a weapon, eyes wide with fear. Her soaked white T-shirt clung to her skin in the rain, her light-blue undergarments clearly visible.
"W-Who are you? What do you want?" she asked, trembling.
"It's not what I want, it's what you're doing," Daniel replied, gently taking the umbrella from her hands and opening it over both of them. The rain was relentless, and he wasn't about to let her suffer in it.
To his surprise, the girl didn't immediately run. She was nervous—shivering—but stood her ground.
"I won't hurt you," he said, offering a faint smile. "Let's start again. My name is Daniel."
That hesitant smile must've worked, because her posture relaxed slightly. She swallowed, then said quietly, "My name's Elizabeth Rose. You can call me Betty. But if you try anything weird, I'm calling the cops."
Daniel chuckled, amused by her bluntness.
"No problem, Betty. But I've got a feeling you and I might be seeing a lot more of each other."
The rain fell harder around them as lightning streaked across the sky. The storm was far from over—but Daniel was back on Earth, and his long exile had only made him stronger.
Now it was time to figure out just what kind of world he had returned to.