The sudden surge of lava plasma sent Namor crashing into the desert, creating a massive wave of yellow sand. As he pulled himself free, he inspected the charred scar on his chest, realizing his grim situation. Namor's strength was closely tied to water, and the dry, hot desert drained his power at an alarming rate. While he could still fight or fly, his abilities were severely diminished in this environment.
He knew now that Abel wasn't his enemy, but his pride and aggression had led him into a fight he couldn't win in these conditions. His Atlantean heritage allowed him to survive on land for extended periods, but not indefinitely—especially in a waterless wasteland.
Deciding it was best to retreat, Namor launched into the air, hoping to escape before his strength ebbed too much. However, Abel wasn't about to let him go so easily. As Namor rose, Abel conjured a powerful gust of wind, lifting a cloud of yellow sand into the air. Under Abel's control, the sand formed a massive hand that slapped Namor back down to the ground with tremendous force.
Namor struggled to rise, but as soon as he got to his feet, Abel descended onto the desert floor. His wand shimmered with a faint white glow, and the sands around them seemed to come to life, wrapping around Namor's body like sentient tendrils. The Atlantean king's strength continued to dwindle, and despite his initial resistance, he found himself sinking into the dunes, being buried alive under the shifting desert.
As his consciousness faded, Namor thought he felt himself being freed from the suffocating sand. But before he could confirm it, he succumbed to unconsciousness.
Abel stood over the fallen king, observing the scene carefully. He wasn't interested in killing Namor, as it wasn't worth the potential fallout of provoking the mysterious Atlantean race. Instead, Abel flicked his wand, casting a spell that summoned a stream of cool water from its tip. The water splashed over Namor, gently waking him from his forced slumber.
Namor groggily opened his eyes, meeting Abel's gaze. Abel stopped his spell and asked directly, "Who are you? Why did you attack me?"
Namor sighed, understanding the gravity of his mistake. "I am Namor, King of Atlantis. I was searching for the remains of our high priest, specifically a skull that was taken. I mistook you for agents of the Dark Church, who I believe stole the relic."
Abel raised an eyebrow, his voice calm but probing. "And now you're sure I'm not with the Dark Church?"
"Yes," Namor admitted, "I recognize the teleportation magic you used—it's from Kama Taj. I realize now you're not my enemy."
Abel nodded. "So you attacked me knowing I wasn't your target?"
"I thought I could defeat you quickly and end the fight that way," Namor confessed, "but your power and strategy exceeded my expectations. I lost."
Abel smirked, but his tone remained neutral. "Then you owe me a favor now. Any problem with that?"
Namor stared at Abel for a moment before nodding. "No problem. Here, take this." He handed Abel a small, palm-sized conch. "Blow this on the beach, and I'll know. I'll come to you swiftly."
Abel accepted the conch, making it disappear into thin air with a flick of his wrist. Then, he raised his wand again, causing Namor to tense up. However, Abel wasn't attacking. He conjured a fresh surge of water, this time to restore Namor's strength. The Atlantean king stood as his energy returned, grateful but still guarded.
"Take this," Abel said, tossing a small crystal to Namor. "If you need to contact me, crush it. I'll find you. But remember, you'll owe me again."
Namor caught the crystal and nodded solemnly. Abel opened a portal, allowing Namor to step through back to the battlefield above the ocean. Abel followed, nodding to Namor once more before vanishing with Apparition.
Namor wasted no time. He plunged back into the sea, swimming at incredible speed toward the depths of the ocean, eager to return to his people.
Meanwhile, Abel reappeared on a rooftop in New York City. Kaecilius, who had been sent there earlier, was already awake and meditating. As Abel arrived, Kaecilius opened his eyes.
"Master Abel, is the attacker dealt with?" Kaecilius asked.
Abel shook his head. "No, the guy's the king of Atlantis. I couldn't kill him, and there's no reason to. But since I saved him, I've earned his favor. That might come in handy later."
Kaecilius looked intrigued. "For what? What's your plan?"
Abel smiled thoughtfully. "I plan to establish a magic organization—something like Kama Taj. It'll allow us to handle various matters without getting personally involved in every little thing. But more importantly, it'll give me greater authority over magic itself, helping me truly ascend on the path of magic."
4o