Looking at Irene's expectant eyes, Aaron nodded emphatically.
"I understand, Teacher."
Though they had known each other for only two days, Aaron could tell that Irene genuinely had his best interests at heart.
The moment she saw his magical ability, she immediately reported it to Queen Frigga, seeking better resources for him. She had even tried to convince Frigga to take him on as a direct student.
Aaron couldn't deny that Irene was invested in his success. She was eager to train him into an excellent magician and even worried that she might not be qualified enough to guide him properly.
Most people in her position wouldn't be so selfless.
If another teacher had a prodigious student like him, jealousy could easily creep in. Some might try to suppress him out of fear or insecurity. Others might cling to him, ensuring that they alone would be credited as his mentor when he inevitably became famous.
After all, if Aaron one day became one of Asgard's greatest magicians, his teacher's name would be remembered alongside him.
But Irene wasn't like that.
She was focused only on his growth.
Seeing his response, Irene's expression softened as she continued, "You can put enchanting magic aside for now. The most urgent thing is to strengthen your foundation in other areas."
"Once you've mastered the core disciplines of magic, then you can specialize in enchanting. In fact, most magicians only turn to enchantments when they reach a bottleneck in their growth. I don't want you to waste too much time on it."
She smiled knowingly. "Of course, I understand that with your ability, most of your time is spent reading rather than practicing. But even so, enchanting magic takes effort. It's better to use your current opportunity to seek guidance from the other teachers."
"If you can earn the Queen's approval, your training will improve even further."
Aaron nodded but didn't comment.
Enchanting magic might not be his priority, but that didn't mean he would neglect it entirely.
After all, what would happen if he raised his enchantment magic to an extreme level?
Could he mass-produce Mjolnir?
Forge Stormbreaker in batches?
It didn't seem impossible.
And before he reached a high level of strength, having powerful enchanted equipment was a good idea.
Right now, his physical resilience wasn't great.
He could probably withstand weak bullets at best.
As an Asgardian, his physique was naturally superior to mortals, but compared to Thor—who was of royal blood—and Loki—who was a Frost Giant prince—Aaron was far behind.
His body was still developing, and he hadn't reached his peak yet.
Until then, strong defensive armor was a necessity.
If he could craft enchanted gear tough enough to withstand Asgardian weaponry, even Odin's warriors would take notice. After all, Asgard's soldiers wielded weapons forged from Uru metal—the same material used to create Mjolnir.
If his armor could endure that, even gods would covet it.
Aaron and Irene discussed a few more things before he left the room, eager to continue his studies.
Not long after he left, the door opened again.
A woman in a long, emerald-green dress sauntered inside, her movements smooth and seductive.
"Amora, what are you doing here?"
Irene's expression darkened immediately.
Amora, known as the Enchantress, was one of Asgard's most powerful sorceresses. She specialized in psychic magic—illusions, mind control, and soul manipulation.
A dangerous woman.
Amora's lips curled into an amused smirk. "Now, now, Irene. Don't forget—I'm also a teacher at the Magic Academy."
She casually glanced around the room before her gaze settled on Irene.
"That young man who just left… He's the magic prodigy the Queen told us to pay special attention to, isn't he?" She tapped her lips, pretending to think. "Aaron, was it? A magic apprentice who's only been learning magic for two days?"
Her emerald eyes gleamed with interest.
"I heard he created energy duplicates on his very first day… Does he really have such powerful magical abilities?"
Irene tensed.
She knew that look in Amora's eyes.
"Listen to me, Amora," Irene warned, her voice cold. "Stay away from him. He's my student—and under the Queen's personal watch. If you try anything, don't blame me for being ruthless."
The warm, patient teacher Aaron had known was gone. In her place stood a woman with a fiery temper and a deep-seated grudge against the sorceress before her.
But Amora only chuckled, unfazed.
"Irene, why do you still hold such a grudge against me?" she said sweetly. "I've never done anything to you."
"Don't play innocent!" Irene snapped.
"You and I both know what happened."
Amora raised a delicate brow, her smirk widening.
"Oh? Do you mean my dear little sister, Lorelei?"
Irene's jaw tightened.
Lorelai—the woman known as The Temptress—was another master of psychic magic. She once attempted to stage a coup, using her mind-control powers to sway key figures in Asgard. When her plan failed, she was imprisoned in the dungeons.
And Amora?
She had conveniently avoided any consequences.
Despite being Lorelei's sister, she claimed to have had nothing to do with the scheme. With no direct evidence against her, Odin spared her, and she eventually became a teacher at the academy.
But Irene never believed in Amora's innocence.
The whole incident had severely damaged the reputation of Asgard's magicians. Many people still distrusted them because of it.
And now, Amora was showing a strong interest in Aaron.
That alone was enough to make Irene furious.
"You may have escaped punishment last time, but I won't let you tarnish the name of Asgard's magicians again," Irene growled.
Amora blinked, feigning hurt. "My, my… Such harsh words." Then, in a softer, more teasing tone, she added, "The great All-Father declared me innocent. Are you saying his judgment was wrong?"
Irene clenched her fists, but she said nothing.
If she argued further, it would mean questioning Odin's decision.
And that… was something she couldn't do.
Amora's smirk deepened.
"Well then, if that's all, I'll take my leave," she purred, turning gracefully toward the door.
But just before stepping out, she paused.
Glancing over her shoulder, she let out a soft, knowing chuckle.
And then, without another word, she left.
Irene exhaled sharply, trying to calm her anger.
She had no doubt—Amora had just confirmed it.
She was very, very interested in Aaron.
And that was dangerous.
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