For those who are more powerful, the Darkhold actually holds even greater allure.
It's not that the spells within are entirely unique, but rather that it teaches you things that are distinctly different.
Some of these things, when seen by ordinary people, might just elicit an, "Oh, cool."
But in the eyes of the powerful, those same spells yield entirely different outcomes.
Take Ronan, for instance, after reading the Darkhold.
Truth be told, Ronan didn't have a photographic memory, nor could he read a thousand lines in a glance.
But as a sorcerer, casting a spell to boost his learning speed—that's normal, right?
And adding one to enhance his memory—that's normal too, isn't it?
So, in just a few minutes, Ronan finished the entire book.
Agatha Harkness, standing nearby, watched him quietly, and for some reason, a flicker of envy shone in her eyes.
It wasn't clear if she envied Ronan himself or the Ancient One for having such an outstanding disciple.
Perhaps in her view, Ronan was destined to become a powerful sorcerer—whether he'd be a great one, though, only time could tell.
Flipping to the last page of the Darkhold, Ronan snapped out of his study trance, a trace of wariness flashing in his eyes.
He had to admit, the sheer number of spells in the Darkhold—each one was undeniably drool-worthy.
Even as Ronan read the book, between the lines, he could feel the writer's temptation seeping through.
Tempting him to use these spells, almost eagerly offering to teach him every trick.
Not giving him the slightest chance to fail.
Even though Ronan had mentally prepared himself before reading, during the process, he still felt his heart stir.
"Looks like you've finished."
Agatha Harkness looked at Ronan, the envy in her eyes shifting to vigilance.
She was on guard, watching for any drastic shift in his demeanor.
Over the years, Agatha Harkness had conducted plenty of experiments—letting ordinary people "accidentally" stumble upon the book and read it.
In the end, every single one of them underwent a massive change in personality.
If the Ancient One hadn't caught wind of her little games back then, who knows how many more would've died.
"Finished. You can take it back now."
Ronan nodded, his gaze returning to normal.
Seeing his eyes clear up in an instant, Agatha Harkness subtly let a hint of disappointment slip.
She'd kinda hoped to see what the Ancient One would do if her disciple got corrupted by the Darkhold.
Would she try her hardest to save him, only to fail and have to put him down?
But Ronan didn't give her that chance.
Agatha Harkness retrieved the Darkhold with a touch of regret, and just before fully putting it away, she studied Ronan again.
Seeing no unusual reaction, she took a deep breath.
This little fox!!!
"Thanks for your help, Ms. Harkness. If I manage to stop the universe from being destroyed someday, you'll definitely get top credit."
Ronan didn't pay much mind to her gaze—though he had no clue what she was thinking, and by every metric—age, experience, life events—he was thoroughly outmatched.
So, he figured he'd just stop guessing.
"Hmph, you little punk—you're even more shameless than your teacher, the Ancient One."
Agatha Harkness's face darkened, unable to hold back a jab.
Whenever the Ancient One got the upper hand, she'd just leave—no fighting her anyway, and after a while, the anger faded.
But Ronan was different—after getting what he wanted, he still had to toss out a couple of snarky lines. Wasn't that just rubbing salt in the wound after taking the prize?
The more Agatha Harkness thought about it, the madder she got, and under Ronan's puzzled stare, she slammed the door shut with a bang.
Looking at the closed door, Ronan couldn't help but twitch his lips.
Why was this old woman so hot-tempered?
Did he come at the wrong time?
Was it that time of the month?
But the moment that thought popped into his head, Ronan shivered.
A centuries-old hag still having…
Cough, cough, cough.
Ronan quickly shook off those ideas.
Since she clearly didn't welcome him anymore, there was no point in sticking around.
So, he opened a Sling Ring portal, ready to leave.
But just as he did, a voice suddenly sounded in his ear.
It was the Ancient One!
"Ronan, come to Kamar-Taj."
This was Kamar-Taj's psychic transmission—with a thought, the Ancient One could speak to any being anywhere on Earth.
Hearing her message, a smile spread across Ronan's face.
Finally, he wouldn't have to work so hard—with the Ancient One back, he could drop the burden and go back to being a carefree high schooler.
So, he adjusted the portal's destination and vanished from the farm.
Upstairs, Agatha Harkness watched Ronan's departing figure in her crystal ball, a sigh escaping her.
"Ancient One, oh Ancient One—why's your luck always so damn good?"
Kamar-Taj.
Ronan stepped through the portal, grinning as he greeted a few passing sorcerers before hurrying toward the Sanctum Sanctorum.
The Ancient One was already waiting inside.
The moment he saw her, Ronan's eyes nearly welled up.
"Teacher, oh Teacher—you've no idea what your cute, handsome student's been through!"
Ronan "tearfully" approached her, his acting so convincing he almost moved himself to tears.
The Ancient One just smiled at him, seemingly impressed by her disciple's performance.
After dramatically recounting his ordeal with plenty of embellishment, and seeing no big reaction from her, Ronan finally pouted and dropped the act.
His original plan was to play up the sob story, hoping he could dodge the next round of tasks.
But…
"I've already heard about your exploits from Wong—you handled it brilliantly, averting a crisis for Earth."
"It seems you're ready to take on the duties of the Sorcerer Supreme."
No doubt about it—the Ancient One was thoroughly pleased with her disciple.
Especially when she "saw" how Kamar-Taj's sorcerers had rallied behind him, standing firm against the enemy—it warmed her heart.
The Sorcerer Supreme of Kamar-Taj was, in title, only half a leader—equal in status to the other sorcerers.
Simply put, the Sorcerer Supreme was more of a spiritual figurehead, with no real authority to command the others in peacetime.
Only when Earth faced a major crisis would the Sorcerer Supreme take charge, becoming the group's core.
That's why the role demanded both strength and the "people's support."
"Don't kid around, Teacher—I only wish I'd thought of that sooner, or this wouldn't have happened."
Honestly, Ronan was a bit down.
This whole mess started because of him, leading to this situation.
So, dealing with it was just him cleaning up his own mistakes.
"No, it's not your fault—fate's just unpredictable sometimes. No need to dwell on it."
"But not only did you fend off the invader, you took on the follow-up responsibility—that makes me very proud."
The Ancient One smiled at Ronan, clearly approving of his actions.
Ronan started to catch on.
Hm?
Why did this sound like she was telling him to keep saving the universe???
No way—how's a guy like me supposed to handle something that big alone?
"But the Darkhold's a seriously dangerous thing—tracking it down will inevitably bring all sorts of risks."
"And with your strength, while it's enough for most crises, the Darkhold was written by Chthon himself—it's far more perilous than Agatha's copy."
"So…"
The Ancient One waved her hand lightly, and a Sling Ring portal instantly swallowed them both.
When they reappeared, they were in an unfamiliar cave.
There stood a structure resembling an altar.
"This place is a gateway linking Earth to the Dark Dimension—a spot the Sorcerers Supreme have monitored for generations."
"When you stand in the center and perform the right hand signs, you'll cast a projection into the Dark Dimension, checking for any signs of an invasion."
The Ancient One beckoned Ronan to the center.
Ronan didn't hesitate—he was eager to see what the Dark Dimension was like.
How it compared to what he'd seen that day.
As the Ancient One made a few hand signs, that familiar weightless sensation hit again.
Ronan savored the odd feeling, and the next second, the weightlessness vanished, replaced by a physical thrill.
Hm, physical?
Ronan froze, glancing at his hands in surprise.
This didn't feel like an illusion—it felt like his real body.
Could this unique projection replicate his body too?
"No need to be shocked—this is our actual bodies."
"Because this place doesn't just project—it can transport human bodies over too."
"It's actually a conduit between the Dark Dimension and Earth."
The Ancient One's voice rang out again, clearing up his confusion.
They'd been teleported straight to the Dark Dimension—not just a projection.
Ronan twitched his lips—why did everyone love dropping info in dramatic chunks?
Couldn't they just say it all at once?
The Ancient One took a few slow steps forward, stopping at what looked like a cliff's edge.
Ronan hurried to catch up, peering curiously at the other side.
There loomed Dormammu's massive face.
But right now, Dormammu showed no intent of lunging at them—he didn't even seem to notice them.
That didn't make sense.
Ronan had foiled one of Dormammu's schemes once, costing him a shot at Earth.
Not only that, he'd stolen Dark Dimension energy and even come here to give him a beating.
The Ancient One was an even older "customer"—for how many years?
Every time she swung by the Dark Dimension, she'd take what she wanted and leave without a dime.
Sometimes Dormammu tried to claim some "payment," but all he got was a head full of lumps.
With that kind of grudge, Dormammu not attacking? Had he gone soft lately?
Ronan stared at Dormammu curiously, while Dormammu refused to even glance their way.
If he dared look over, he'd be in for a thrashing!
So, he just pretended he saw nothing.
It's just a bit of dark energy—take it, take it, take it all!
Eat your fill—it's not like the Dark Dimension can't replenish it.
Buffet's on the house!
"No need to stare—he's temporarily blocked by me on another layer of the Dark Dimension. He won't affect you much."
"All you need to do is one thing—absorb the energy here!"
The Ancient One pointed upward.
Her meaning was clear—this was her way of powering Ronan up.
Absorb dark energy!
Hearing this, Ronan's pupils shrank—he was a bit stunned.
But the shock came and went fast, and soon he caught on to her intent.
"But don't use your left hand—use this spell I'm teaching you."
With that, the Ancient One placed her hand on Ronan's head and began her lesson.
Absorption spell…
When Ronan saw the move appear in his mind, he roughly got her plan.
"Once you cast this, it can pair with some other spells—ones not passed down within Kamar-Taj."
"First, absorb the energy here, then tell me how it feels."
The Ancient One patted Ronan's shoulder.
Ronan nodded—his gut told him he was about to fleece some serious wool!
Chances like this didn't come often, and it'd also confirm some of his suspicions.
So, he sat cross-legged and started casting the spell she'd taught him.
As a familiar power surged in from all directions, Ronan felt new energy building in his body.
But within that energy, he also sensed the same seductive, corrupting vibe as the Darkhold.
Yet, there seemed to be a slight difference.
"Don't overthink it—keep the absorbed energy in your body and start getting used to it."
"Once you're accustomed to it, it'll slowly become part of you."
The Ancient One's voice sounded again.
At that moment, Ronan shut out all distractions and focused solely on wrangling the dark energy.
Outside, the Ancient One watched as countless streams of dark energy poured into Ronan's body like long-lost kids finally coming home.
Seeing the scene, she smiled.
Then, her smile faded, and she turned her gaze to Dormammu.