Chapter 309: The Myriad Demon Gods

The bubbling hot lamb fat gave off an unparalleled, savory aroma that instantly whetted Solomon's appetite. Hecate, seemingly unfazed by the searing heat, reached into the oven bare-handed to retrieve the roasting pan. Without a moment's hesitation, she poured the succulent lamb and roasted vegetables onto a large platter in the center of the table.

"Here, take this." She handed pita bread to Solomon and Athena, leaving them no room for refusal. After placing the empty roasting pan in the sink, she turned to fetch a bottle of wine and three ceramic cups from a nearby shelf. Meanwhile, Athena began instructing Solomon on the proper way to enjoy Greek roasted lamb—while it was still hot, one was to pile the lamb, yogurt, lemon juice, and scallions onto the pita bread and eat it like a wrap. The tangy homemade yogurt, unsweetened and intensely tart, paired perfectly with the sweet wine Hecate poured for them.

The two goddesses and one mystic gathered around the table adorned with a floral tablecloth, enjoying their meal. Solomon couldn't help but frequently compliment Hecate's culinary skills. The Titan goddess of magic, much to his surprise, seemed more pleased by his praise of her cooking than she might have been for compliments on her magical prowess.

"I haven't used magic in years," Hecate remarked nonchalantly, as though she hadn't just performed a small feat of magic to withstand the oven's heat. "So, don't bother asking me about magic anymore. If you're here to eat, I'm more than happy to host you. I know the Supreme Sorcerer's plans for you, Solomon. Whether or not you decide to let me stay on Earth is up to you. I just happen to like it here—after all, I've grown fond of the flavors here. The snails on Xandar are dreadful. If you're interested, I could also tell you about all the terrible foods across the universe—there are far more of them than there are magical spells in existence."

Athena rolled her eyes subtly. Even Zeus held Hecate in high regard, and Athena had long since given up trying to deal with Hecate's prickly attitude. "Fine," the goddess of wisdom sighed. "Let's just drink and skip the talk about magic. Solomon isn't reliant on magic alone; his combat skills are exceptional."

"Good." Hecate nodded approvingly and poured them each a cup of sweet wine. "Men should wield weapons. Magic is for women."

"I sense some undertones in your words, Hecate!" Athena shot back.

For the duration of the meal, no one pressed for further answers. Even the usually inquisitive Solomon refrained from interrupting the meal with questions, opting instead to savor the delicious food in silence. As he pondered Hecate's earlier cryptic remarks, he began to make sense of them. Her answers, while seemingly evasive, held deeper truths.

In the context of the cosmos, where nearly every inner and outer plane was ruled by magical entities, it made sense that faith might be the cost for the Vanir gods' magic. Many spells invoked the power of extra-dimensional magical beings—often referred to as demon gods. Solomon could list numerous examples:

Faltine, for fire spells like the "Flames of Faltine." Watoomb, for wind element spells. Valtorr, invoked for spells involving steam, serpents, or water. Raggadorr and Seraphim, for protective and binding spells such as the frequently used "Rings of Raggadorr" or the "Shield of the Seraphim." Ikonn, for illusions and mirror-image spells.

Beyond these, there were entities like the three-faced, moon-orbiting Munnopor; the crimson cosmos ruler Cyttorak; and the infernal Seventh Throne, which granted access to hellish powers.

Many spellcasters could even traverse the Path of the Winding Way, an interdimensional corridor that connected countless splinter dimensions. When Solomon first faced Dormammu, the Supreme Sorcerer had sent him through this path. Although he hadn't grasped its full nature at the time, he knew it led to realms like the Dark Dimension, Purple Dimension, Dimension of Fear, and Dimension of Madness, among others. Each dimension was home to its own magical entities, which spellcasters could invoke to augment their magic.

The most powerful entities, including the Vishanti, formed alliances that monopolized magical power across the planes. Kamar-Taj's mystics knew the names of these entities and the methods to invoke their power. However, borrowing such power came at a steep price, and Solomon had yet to find a need to go to such lengths. Drawing magic from external sources always demanded a toll—Kamar-Taj mystics paid a cost to channel the Vishanti's power, and any magic beyond contracted agreements incurred an even higher price.

Strange was one of the few mystics who strictly honored these contracts, never shirking the cost of such deals. However, the true hallmark of a Supreme Sorcerer was not blind adherence to contracts but mastering the art of minimizing costs: knowing when to invoke power, how to negotiate with magical entities, and how to subtly manipulate these beings into competing for favor.

Solomon, as the Supreme Sorcerer's personal disciple, had already tested these techniques on Dormammu.

When Solomon recited his endless barrage of stories to Dormammu, it wasn't mere stalling. Each story left the Vishanti increasingly uneasy, fearing that Solomon might strike a deal with Dormammu. In the end, even the strict Oshtur reduced the toll Solomon had to pay. Once the Vishanti confirmed that Solomon hadn't fully aligned with Dormammu, they allowed him to channel power from the Dark Dimension without consequence—offering no punishment, not even symbolic. On the rare occasion Solomon invoked the power of Yog-Sothoth, the Vishanti not only refrained from interfering but actively shielded his soul from madness.

True mastery lay in artful evasion—no matter the price demanded by the demon gods, mystics found ways to avoid paying in full.

The most skillful evader inevitably became the Supreme Sorcerer.

That said, Solomon suspected Hecate hadn't revealed the whole truth. Faith alone couldn't be the entirety of the Vanir gods' power. Their home, Vanaheim, undoubtedly played a role as well. Perhaps Vanaheim and Asgard served as reservoirs of faith, anchoring the Vanir and Aesir gods' power.

This theory aligned with the Supreme Sorcerer's assertion that Aesir and Vanir gods would gradually weaken if they left their domains for extended periods. It might also explain why Hecate had refrained from using magic for so long—Olympus, no longer located on Earth, had become a diminished source of power. Among the Olympian gods, only physical deities like Athena could freely expend their strength without restraint. Athena's book, penned under the pseudonym Minerva, also served as a subtle means of gathering faith, though her intent had been merely to correct common misconceptions about Greek mythology.

Hecate's remark about Solomon's soul unsettled him. For years, he had harbored doubts about himself and the stigmata. Was it his hands that bore the stigmata, or did the stigmata bear him? What was the true relationship between himself and the marks?

If Athena knew what he was pondering, she would likely thump him on the head and tell him to stop wasting his thoughts on such absurd questions.

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