The bells of Latveria tolled midnight, though in Castle Doom time itself bowed to the will of its master.
Victor von Doom sat enthroned in his hall of steel and fire, the weight of crown and armor upon his shoulders not as a burden, but as his birthright. A symbol of his strength and might.
The reason for his being awake at this late hour was the constant struggles of the fools outside of his empire, the surrounding nations, bowing to their UN masters, pressured his borders.
Their foolishness was only matched by their arrogance in believing they could stand against him, stand against DOOM!
This was meant to be his moment of triumph! Where he boldly declared his and Latveria's independence from the rest of the fools, where he cut the chains placed on his land and his people.
Yet the fools, those idiotic imbeciles, dared to think him weak, dared to challenge him!
Their own nations burned, foul infernal demons lurked in the shadows, whispering poison and stealing souls, dark sorcerers roaming their streets, and civil unrest. Yet rather than turn around and fix those problems, they looked at him, as if he was some easy target, a free win.
They didn't even pay full attention to that metal-headed freak Magneto or his mutant rebellion; that fool couldn't even be a proper distraction!
The arrogance of it all boiled his blood.
"They see Latveria as weak?" Doom's voice thundered through the empty hall, echoing against steel and stone. "They think Doom hides behind walls, cowering from their threats? Fools! Doom does not cower — Doom endures. Doom prevails. Doom rules!"
His gauntleted fist struck the armrest, the sound reverberating like a cannon.
Around him, his machines hummed to life at his command. Projections of Europe flickered into being, lines of troop movements and shaded zones of unrest marking the map like wounds across a diseased body.
Compared to great nations like France or Germany, Latveria seemed so small, yet despite all the threats it faced, it stood strong. His mighty power, his magic, and brilliant technology ensured that no army could invade his lands, yet that didn't stop them.
No, they still harassed him endlessly, forcing him to toil endlessly to stop their bombs and missiles from striking inside his realm.
Yet whenever he went to deal with them, the other side would press the attack, forcing him to stay on the defensive.
Their alliance against him was infuriating, yet he didn't have time to deal with them, something that annoyed him endlessly.
And why? Why did they form this alliance? Why did they bear their weapons against him? Against Latveria?
It was because they were afraid! They feared DOOM!
And they were right to fear him. For he wasn't like that. Magneto and his so-called kingdom, which is nothing more than a rabble of angry outcasts clinging to their would-be messiah.
Nor was he like Arthuria, who, for all her power, decided to only take her own lands, even throwing out Ireland and leaving that for Magneto to grab.
She was nothing but a foolish woman, beautiful, powerful, but ultimately, her vision fell short.
But he, Doom, would do what none of them could do; his destiny wasn't just to rule Latveria, no, his goal, his destiny was the world itself!
No…
Not the world, the entire Universe!
First, he would conquer all of Earth, then he would bring his army to Asgard. Arthuria would be a worthy general, maybe even a possible queen, and together, they would conquer the realm of the gods.
For the universe needed only one god, it needed only Doom!
Doom had paid close attention to that jester proclaiming himself the master of Midgard, ruler of earth and beyond.
And he wasn't all that impressed, just a spoiled fool. Though he did admit that his warriors were better than he expected, that hardly mattered; if those warriors were willing to serve a fool like Loki, he didn't foresee any challenge in persuading them to serve himself, a worthy king!
No, what he really cared about was the Bifrost, the method to instantly travel around the Universe, far beyond anything humanity had access to.
Even Doom had to admit that the ability to transport entire armies across the stars was beyond what he could do, at least for now.
No, the Bifrost was impressive, and it would be his, and with it, the Universe itself would know DOOM!
He turned from the map, cloak flaring, the firelight casting his shadow across the steel walls of his throne room. Even his shadow seemed to wear a crown.
"Let Magneto play at kingship. Let Arthuria waste her throne on peace. Let Loki amuse himself with mortal adoration. All of them grasp at fragments of destiny." His voice dropped to a growl, cold as iron. "But destiny belongs to Doom. It always has."
At his gesture, another projection bloomed in the air — not Europe, not Camelot, not even Asgard. A cube of blinding blue light, pulsing with infinite promise.
"The Tesseract, stolen from the hands of gods, reduced to a plaything of mortals. And who stands at its side? Reed Richards. Richards!" Doom spat the name as though it were poison.
He paced across the hall, gauntlets clenching and unclenching, every word echoing like a sermon.
"That man meddles in powers he cannot possibly comprehend. He tinkers with infinity as if it were a child's puzzle, believing his elastic mind can stretch to grasp eternity itself. Fool! Richards stumbles upon truths by accident, while Doom seizes them by design."
The projection shifted, showing the familiar silhouettes of the Fantastic Four — the Human Torch aflame, the Thing braced in strength, the Invisible Woman's barrier gleaming, and Reed, eternally stretching, forever reaching.
Doom's voice softened, bitter and proud in equal measure.
"And yet… they are not weak. My failures to cast them down are proof enough. Not for lack of Doom's genius — no! But because Richards infects them with his cursed hope. He binds them together in ways no science can quantify. Doom commands armies, Richards commands loyalty. And therein lies his strength."
The projection zoomed closer on Reed's face, his brow furrowed in thought. Doom's jaw tightened.
"He has the Tesseract now, hidden behind SHIELD's walls, thinking to guard it from me. But even Richards cannot resist probing deeper, unraveling secrets. And when he pries too far, when his arrogance leads him to the edge of the abyss… Doom shall be there, to take what is rightfully his. To take everything."
Doom understood both Richard and SHIELD; neither could resist the Tesseract, and SHIELD would make weapons using its power, just as HYDRA had done decades ago, weapons far beyond their time.
Weapons that would one day serve Doom's conquest of the universe.
Doom returned to his throne, his cloak sweeping like the wings of a great beast. His voice rose once more, filling the hall with iron conviction.
"Let Richards toil endlessly with the cube; let SHIELD squander their strength on weapons they cannot hope to wield. Every step they take brings them closer to the precipice — and when they fall, Doom shall rise.
The Tesseract will not belong to Richards. It will not belong to SHIELD. It will not belong to Asgard, Albion, or any god that crawls upon the stars.
It will belong to Doom.
And through it… all of creation shall."
(End of chapter)
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