(A Mundane Life)

I had always been an ordinary guy, leading a mundane life in the bustling heart of New York City. My name is Razake, and I worked a 9-to-5 job in IT.

I lived alone in a small apartment, and my weekends were usually filled with basic activities like grocery shopping and binge-watching superhero movies. But little did I know that my life was about to take an extraordinary turn, a journey that would lead me to become the Sorcerer Supreme.

It all began on a rainy Friday evening. I had been eagerly preparing for weeks to attend a special event featuring none other than Stan Lee himself.

Stan was my hero, the creative genius behind some of the most iconic comic book characters in history. Meeting him in person was a dream I'd cherished for as long as I could remember.

As I sat in my apartment, surrounded by collectibles and comic books, I couldn't contain my excitement. I had purchased a VIP ticket to the event months ago, and the anticipation had been building with each passing day.

Stan Lee was not just a legend; he was an inspiration. His creations had filled my imagination, and I couldn't wait to tell him how much he meant to me.

However, that evening, as the rain pelted against my window and thunder rumbled in the distance, an eerie feeling washed over me. It was as if something out of the ordinary was about to happen, something beyond the scope of my ordinary life.

(Meanwhile in MCU)

In the heart of New York City, the very fabric of reality trembled under the influence of Loki's magic. The skies darkened with ominous clouds, and the once-familiar cityscape twisted and contorted as if it were an Escher painting brought to life. Chaos reigned, and the merger of the Marvel and DC Universes was well underway.

Doctor Strange, his crimson Cloak of Levitation billowing, stood at the epicenter of the chaos. His hands moved in intricate patterns as he chanted incantations, attempting to stabilize the rifts that threatened to consume both universes. Arcane shields shimmered around him, warding off the reality-warping effects of the convergence.

Loki, standing on a nearby rooftop, watched with a wicked grin. "Oh, Sorcerer Supreme," he taunted, "struggling to keep your precious multiverse intact? How droll."

Doctor Strange's brow furrowed with determination as he concentrated on the task at hand. The mystical energies surged through him, and he could feel the strain on his very soul. The Convergence was a force unlike any other he had encountered, and it threatened to overwhelm even his formidable magical abilities.

As he fought to maintain control, he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to Loki's involvement than met the eye. Was this all a game to the trickster god, or did he have a deeper motive for merging the two universes?

Suddenly, the rifts began to close, but not in the way Doctor Strange had expected. Instead of sealing them through a conscious act of magic, the rifts began to suck him in, as if reality itself hungered for his power.

"No! This isn't how it's supposed to end!" Doctor Strange cried out, his voice filled with desperation.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

In a blinding flash of light, he was engulfed by the rift, disappearing from the chaotic battlefield. The Convergence waned, and the skies slowly returned to their normal state.

(Wishful Dreaming)

As I retired to bed, the storm outside grew in intensity. Lightning flashed, and thunder roared, casting an otherworldly glow across my room. The shadows on my walls danced with each flash, resembling eerie, shifting shapes. The tempestuous weather seemed alive, as if it held secrets it yearned to share.

I tossed and turned in my sleep, my dreams invaded by strange symbols and mystical incantations. They spiraled and twisted in my mind, like a cryptic language trying to convey a profound message. The thunder, far from disruptive, felt like a rhythmic chant, guiding me deeper into this enigmatic reverie.

Then, it happened. A blinding bolt of lightning struck just outside my window, filling my room with an ethereal, pulsating light. The brilliance was almost too much to bear, and for a moment, time itself seemed to halt. I jolted awake, disoriented and terrified, blinking away the lingering imprints of that divine illumination.

The room, once a sanctuary of familiarity, was plunged into a darkness more profound than before. Shadows clung to every corner, and the rain hammered relentlessly against the glass, creating a haunting symphony that echoed my disquiet.

I reached for my phone to check the time, but what I saw on the screen left me speechless. Instead of the familiar digital numbers, a series of cryptic symbols glowed ominously. They pulsed and shifted, like living beings, as if mocking my inability to decipher their meaning. Panic began to grip me, its icy fingers closing in.

Desperate to shed some light on the situation, I reached for the antique lamp on my bedside table. The aged brass felt cool under my trembling fingers, and as soon as my skin made contact with it, a surge of energy coursed through me.

It was as if I had tapped into some primal force that lay dormant within. The lamp exploded into a dazzling display of sparks and colors, showering my room with a breathtaking, kaleidoscopic symphony of light.

Stumbling backward in shock, my heart pounding in my chest, I realized I was no longer in my apartment. The dimly lit chamber that surrounded me was like something out of a fantasy, or perhaps a dream that had taken a tangible form.

It was adorned with arcane symbols etched into the walls, their patterns seeming to shift and breathe. Strange, mystical artifacts lay scattered about, some pulsating with an otherworldly energy.

As I stood there, caught between disbelief and awe, I felt like I had been transported into a different realm, a realm where the laws of physics and reality as I knew them no longer applied. Or was I just dreaming?

The boundaries between the ordinary and the extraordinary had blurred, and I was now poised at the precipice of an adventure beyond imagination.

In that chamber, the air carried a peculiar scent, a mixture of ancient parchment and something indescribably mystical. The very walls seemed to whisper secrets that transcended mortal understanding.

As my senses acclimated to this strange new environment, I noticed a faint, ethereal glow emanating from a pedestal at the center of the room.

Intrigued and guided by an inexplicable curiosity, I approached the pedestal. Upon it lay an ornate book, its pages adorned with the same cryptic symbols that had materialized on my phone screen. The book seemed to beckon me, its pages practically radiating knowledge and power.

Without hesitation, I reached out and opened the book. As I turned the pages, the symbols came to life, swirling and dancing in intricate patterns. Each page unveiled a new facet of the arcane, revealing spells, incantations, and ancient rituals. The knowledge within was profound, offering insights into the very fabric of reality.

Time became a blur as I delved deeper into the tome's contents, absorbing its wisdom. It was as if I had tapped into an infinite wellspring of magical knowledge.

Concepts that had once been beyond my grasp now felt like second nature. The mysterious symbols that had initially baffled me began to make sense, forming a bridge between the mundane and the mystical.

Hours, or perhaps days, passed in this state of profound revelation. I marveled at the boundless potential that had awakened within me.

The following morning I woke up both excited and utterly confused. The dream lingered in my head for days to come.

(Mystic Arts in DC)

The night of the event with Stan Lee arrived. The memory of my dream still lingered in my mind; question of what it meant and why it felt so real weighing on me.

It would have been a great thing to become a master of the mystic arts like Doctor Strange, just like the dream implied.

As I entered the auditorium where Stan Lee was set to appear, I felt a strange sense of foreboding. The audience was electrified with anticipation.

Stan Lee took the stage, and the crowd erupted in applause. His presence was magnetic, and his words resonated with the audience.

I watched in awe as he shared stories of heroes and villains, of courage and sacrifice. It was as if he held the key to a world beyond our own, a world of imagination and wonder.

But as Stan Lee's speech reached its climax, a brilliant burst of light erupted on stage, blinding everyone in the auditorium. When the light faded, Stan Lee was gone. Infact, everyone was gone, and I was floating in the air?

Floating in the air, disoriented and bewildered, I found myself in a place that was unmistakeably the top of a city. The city's dark, brooding skyline loomed before me, and I could see a vaguely silhouette against the clouds. It was the Bat-Signal, and I was in DC.

The mystic arts had arrived in DC.

---

Thanks for reading this. Let me know your thoughts.

Read Advanced chapters for FREE in my Patreon:

patreon.com/razake