With Kaecilius' betrayal serving as a warning, having one more reliable member at a time like this would provide an extra layer of security for the Sanctum Sanctorum.
As sorcerers, their lifelong duty was to guard the Sanctums and protect the Sanctum Sanctorum itself. As long as these key locations were secured, the Dark Elves would be unable to invade Earth and threaten the lives of its people.
So Karl Mordo stepped out cheerfully, heading outside to fetch some clothes for Strange. He didn't mind helping at all.
Strange looked around the room—it felt like he had stepped back into a primitive era. He figured he was going to be cut off from the world for quite a long time.
"Hopefully there's some signal here... I should probably let Christine know not to worry about me," Strange thought. Since his training hadn't officially begun yet, he figured he still had a chance to check.
He decided to ask Karl Mordo about the signal situation—whether there was a phone he could borrow. He'd left in such a hurry that he hadn't brought anything with him.
After stepping into the dimensional space with Alan, the only thing he had on him was the clothes he was wearing—he didn't even have his phone.
"These are your clothes, and here are your toiletries as well." The thoughtful Karl Mordo had prepared everything for him, knowing Strange had brought nothing.
Then, a piece of paper appeared in Strange's hand, with three characters written on it: "Shamballa."
"Shamballa? Is this... some kind of incantation or maybe my mystical name?" Strange stared at the note, puzzled by its meaning.
If it was his mystical title, maybe he could make a suggestion. A rough translation of "Shamballa" was something like "Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss"—Strange thought, _I'm not dead yet. I really don't like the sound of that._
Karl Mordo lowered his head, and when he looked up again, Strange noticed he was trying hard not to laugh, which only confused him more.
"Uh, actually… that's your Wi-Fi password. We do have internet here. We're not cavemen," Mordo said, then turned and left—considerately closing the door behind him.
Strange suddenly felt his cheeks flush with heat. At the same time, his determination grew stronger: if he could truly master the mystic arts, maybe he _could_ heal his hands.
Looking down at the "Shamballa" note in his hand, Strange fell into deep thought. Perhaps this was the path that would change his destiny.
He hoped Alan hadn't left yet. He really wanted to apologize properly.
He had said a lot of harsh things to both Alan and the Ancient One earlier. If their personalities had been anything like his own, they probably would've kicked him out long ago and refused to take him in.
Strange reached into his pocket and realized something was inside. When he pulled it out, he was surprised to see the watch Christine had given him—he'd somehow brought it along after all.
...
"Do you need my help?" Wanda asked, feeling that her powers might be useful to the Ancient One. She wanted to do something for Alan.
"No need for now. If I do need help, I'll let you all know," the Ancient One replied calmly. Then she turned to Alan. "Would you like to say goodbye to Strange?"
Alan shook his head slightly. "No need. I'll be back in a few days—it's not like we'll never see each other again."
The portal opened once again. Alan didn't think a formal farewell was necessary. He simply turned and returned to where he lived.
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