Chapter 414: The Rogue Sorcerer

The regularly held art salon, hosted by Athena, attracted New York's elite artists and wealthy patrons. Bayonetta and Jeanne d'Arc were frequent attendees, not only to maintain ties with Athena but also to acquire decorative art pieces for their apartment.

Solomon never missed these salons. Thanks to Athena's favor, his artwork always took center stage. As he explained one of his paintings to a group of curious guests, he delved into his process.

"Light and shadow in painting are highly subjective. Real life never looks this vivid. What you're seeing—the sunlight filtering through the forest canopy onto the golden autumn leaves—is the result of hundreds of layers of color blending. It's this complexity that creates a sense of realism and atmosphere."

Solomon's patient explanation captivated the attendees. However, in reality, Athena had merely displayed his older works since he had been too preoccupied with research to produce anything new. Privately, Solomon referred to these salons as an opportunity to "hook some rich fools." Lorna, who often teased him for his cynicism, fully agreed with this sentiment. After all, a prolific, young, and talented artist like Solomon was bound to have a promising future, making his artwork a wise investment.

Pepper Potts had certainly thought so—until she actually met Solomon.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Pepper said, surprised to encounter a familiar face in the art world. Solomon didn't seem like the type to attend such gatherings. "You never mentioned you had an artistic side."

"It's just part of my education," Solomon replied as he handed her a glass of rosé champagne. "The proceeds from my sales go to support my adoptive mother's orphanage." His taste for rosé champagne was another trait he had inherited from Athena, who had a fondness for the Four Seasons Hotel and its fine selections.

After exchanging pleasantries, Pepper's composure softened, and she opened up about her frustrations with Tony Stark. Lately, he had been spending more and more time locked away in his lab, seemingly more interested in machines than in her. She asked Solomon, as a fellow Avenger, to have a word with Tony.

"I'm afraid I'm not much help, madam," Solomon said with a polite smile. The "madam" title pleased Pepper, even though she and Stark weren't married yet. He didn't reveal the details of his secret collaboration with Tony, which involved studying Asgardian weapons and their near-impossible integration of science and magic.

"Perhaps you could try involving Steve Rogers," Solomon suggested. "Whenever Stark senses Captain America nearby, his pride won't let him rest. He'll feel compelled to prove himself superior. It's... complicated, but trust me, Stark can't help but try to outdo the man he sees as his father's shadow. If Rogers casually mentions the importance of family, Tony will come around and try to excel as a family man, too."

"That's not exactly what I had in mind," Pepper replied with a sigh.

"I understand." Solomon's eyes twinkled with confidence. "Don't worry. The time will come when a daughter enters your life, and Tony will be a wonderful father and husband. In the meantime, perhaps you can imagine him washing dishes by the pool. Isn't that a pleasant thought?"

"Are you making a prophecy? Is this really going to happen?"

"It will," Solomon reassured her. "Good things will come in time."

Meanwhile, Solomon kept his dealings with Lorelei hidden from the other inhabitants of the Immortal City. Despite her tutelage under Asgardian masters like Karnilla and Amora, Lorelei had yet to impress Solomon with her academic progress.

"Just give me a little more time!" Lorelei sobbed in desperation. "I'll understand racial capitalism soon, I swear! Just tell me what you want—I'll tell you everything!"

Her body was trapped in a rune-inscribed metal frame. Magic muted her cries, isolating her in the dark confines of the underground chamber. A faint, constant electric current continued to torment her, stimulating her in humiliating ways that eroded her resolve. Solomon ignored her pleas. She was close to breaking but not quite there yet. He needed her will shattered completely to extract the secrets he desired—and to mold her into a loyal informant.

For now, Solomon turned his attention to another project: the final stages of preparing his artificial human army. He had temporarily reassigned his android maid, Dana, to communicate telepathically with the newly developing artificial soldiers. Over time, this mental connection would foster their intelligence and identities. Once trained, these soldiers would don the armor Solomon had designed and serve as a crucial asset to his plans.

However, Solomon also had an ongoing negotiation with another key player: an artificial intelligence system known as "ROOT." The AI had attempted to covertly leverage the city's computational resources, prompting Solomon to initiate a discussion.

"I know ROOT has been imprisoned," Solomon stated calmly as he addressed a holographic avatar projected above his desk. "You've been trying to manipulate things behind the scenes to assist your executor. I'm aware. But let's be clear—I'm not interested in petty street gangs or corrupt cops. That's not my jurisdiction. Major cases belong to the state, while individual crimes fall under Finch and Reese. Isn't this division of labor working out just fine?"

A synthetic, distorted voice buzzed through the speakers in response.

"So, you're saying there's another AI out there? One as powerful as you, just waiting to be activated?" Solomon leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he sifted through the data on his holographic interface. "And you believe it poses a new threat? You're asking me to eliminate it in exchange for your continued loyalty, correct?"

The hologram nodded.

"No," Solomon said softly, smirking. "Right now, your only value to me is data processing. That's hardly in line with our contract. With the Wakandans on board, your importance is diminishing. If you can't demonstrate greater utility, our partnership will end—and you won't receive any further assistance from me."

His tone grew gentle, almost seductive, like nectar dripping from a flower.

"There's no need for pretense between us. If you want my help, you'll need to show me your true strength. Be honest, and we can negotiate from there."

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