Reality fractured and twisted around me once more, and I found myself floating above Kamar-Taj—except there was something different about it. I sensed magical energy. It was somehow alien, yet intimately familiar. The same, yet different from the Eldritch magic the sorcerers were so famous for—except it was twisted somehow, infected, like a cancer.
Lauren.
Had to be.
Angel Energy exploded out of my wings as wind whipped around me, and my wings fully manifested. I slammed into an invisible wall erected just outside the compound, etched with patterns that were too raw and ancient to be Eldritch magic.
Strange's tether stretched into the sky, reaching farther than I could see.
Was it reaching for the sun?
It was unlike anything I've ever seen before. It almost reminded me of Witch magic from The Vampire Diaries. They tied barrier spells to celestial events through channeling them.
If memory serves me right, there was only one way around it—waiting out the sun.
Still, I might have been misinterpreting things. There were endless magical universes in the multiverse, packed with endless barrier spells. It was best not to deal in absolutes.
Gathering energy in my hand, I swung with over one thousand points in Strength, boosted further by another five hundred from my armor. The barrier rang like a gong, sending shockwaves that rattled the entire mountain range.
I swung a second time in annoyance before trying to teleport in.
It worked—but I kind of wished it hadn't.
It felt like being squeezed through a water pipe. I stumbled into the courtyard to discover…blood.
It reached up to my ankles. Bodies lay burned, broken, diced apart. I gagged, stunned for a moment—but only a moment. And it almost got me killed.
Magic slammed down on me, reaching deep into my blood, demanding betrayal, demanding it boil.
I shook off the familiar curse almost casually, calling on my Ancient Defense Runes. They shimmered to life, multicolored and denser than my strongest Twilight Adamantium alloys.
My eyes snapped up in fury, and I saw my attackers—twenty acolytes dressed in robes, hidden behind a layer of shimmering, twisted magic.
Their leader was nowhere near them.
He was in the Library, a few buildings over, tearing through their vast collection—ancient texts, artifacts, forbidden tomes—vanishing them into an amulet hanging from his wrist. The Great Hall was mostly empty now.
A dying man lay behind him. Most of his torso was missing.
Mordo.
I recognized the leader immediately. The new protective aura he'd wrapped around himself hadn't been enough to protect him from me.
I raised my hand and snapped my fingers.
Twenty pillars of black flame erupted beneath the acolytes' feet, burning them to ash. They held on longer than I expected, stumbling forward, screaming, writhing, cursing their master's name.
Kaecilius.
The world lurched—and suddenly my hand was wrapped around his throat.
Kaecilius's eyes bulged as his magic flared. A prismatic barrier materialized around him, pushing back against my grip, but my armor made quick work of his energy—siphoning it, feeding on it, growing stronger.
He switched tactics when he realized his magic wasn't working, conjuring twisted Eldritch circles. Monsters the size of sedans poured out—shapes incomprehensible, their mere presence pressing against my considerable mental resistance.
I set them on fire without sparing them a glance and absorbed the flames as soon as they were ashes.
With a tug of telekinesis, I ripped Kaecilius's limbs free.
His howls echoed through the hall. More Eldritch beasts followed, all meeting similar ends, while I continued draining him and started hammering his mind shield with mental spikes empowered by his own stolen energy.
The portals stopped almost immediately—replaced by desperate elemental blasts, telekinetic strikes, and failed teleportation spells.
Finally out of options, I watched him reach for Mordo's failing body, attempting to forge some kind of sympathetic link between them.
Kaecilius knew I'd save Mordo somehow.
He planned to use that.
I snorted.
Not on his life.
I swiped my hand, and a tongue of Anathema fire burned through his magic. The look of shock on his face was almost satisfying.
Something broke in him.
I doubled down, crushing what little resistance he had left, and finally turned my attention to Mordo. I flung a small cube over my shoulder. It landed on his chest and unfolded around him.
A modified life-preservation container—similar to the ones I'd built for the sleeping mutants—except this one was infused with Devourer DNA. It regenerated.
He'd be back on his feet soon.
With barely a thought, I sent him to my personal dimension to recover and turned my full attention back to Kaecilius.
His eyes were distant. Empty. He'd soiled himself at some point, and his mental shield was on the edge of fracturing.
"Why," I hissed. "You really didn't think you'd get away with this, did you?"
"Unfortunately, he did."
I spun.
She stood there, wreathed in form-fitting shadow armor. A blade coiled around her delicate finger—blacker than black, devouring light itself. From her shadow, violent shapes pulsed and vanished.
I sucked in a sharp breath. "Is that—"
"Yep. The Necrosword," she said casually. "Two weeks of fighting a darkness-manipulating psychopath, becoming a grandmaster in blade combat, and a truly impressive amount of murder. Like—mountainous."
My chest tightened, posture shifting.
"Oh," she smiled. "You're scared. It's been a while since you felt that, hasn't it?"
I clenched my jaw beneath my armor, then forced myself steady.
The All-Black was dangerous—one of the most dangerous weapons in the Marvel universe—but it was nowhere near its peak. Gorr hadn't wielded it long enough. Most gods still lived. I had power enough to drown this planet in fire if I chose.
But that wasn't why she was here.
Lauren wasn't here to fight. If she were, there wouldn't be banter.
This was about her newest recruit.
"You're not getting him back," I said calmly, turning up Time Warp. A nimbus of temporal energy flowed outward, stretching perception until dust drifted like snowfall and torn scrolls fluttered in slow motion.
Lauren adjusted effortlessly, meeting my gaze with a knowing smirk.
"Good," she said. "I don't want him. But you can't have him either."
"I won't let you—"
Kaecilius's head popped like an overripe grape.
The psychic strike was struck so fast and absolutely that I barely caught it, even at dilated speeds.
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