High Above New York City
Arthur rose through the clouds, leaving the city lights far below.
Higher and higher he climbed, until the air grew thin and cold, until the sounds of the world faded to nothing. He floated in perfect silence beneath a canopy of stars.
Here, miles above any surveillance, any satellite, any prying eyes, he stopped. And closed his eyes.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then golden portals began to open around him in a perfect circle. One by one, figures stepped out.
Arthurs. His clones.
For years, he had used them to be everywhere at once. Learning, building, protecting. They were the perfect tool for a man who wanted to have fun, spend time with family, research magic, and monitor global threats all at the same time.
But they came with a cost.
The connection kept his mind fractured. His attention was always divided, his consciousness spread thin across multiple viewpoints. There was always background noise, always another perspective demanding processing power.
He was never fully present. Never truly whole.
But the next battle required everything he had.
Mephisto in his own realm would be a god. A Hell Lord on his throne wielded power that could warp reality itself. To fight him there, Arthur couldn't afford to be anything less than complete.
One by one, the clones walked forward.
Each placed a hand on the original Arthur's back. Each dissolved into golden light, streaming into him like rivers returning to the sea.
With every reintegration, his mind sharpened. The background noise vanished. His focus narrowed to a razor's edge, and his presence expanded to fill the space it had occupied.
Every scattered fragment of his attention reunited into a single, burning purpose.
Destroy Mephisto.
He felt powerful. Not because his power or magical reserves had changed, but because being whole for the first time in years brought a clarity that was its own kind of strength.
But he knew it wasn't enough.
He wasn't going to fight some super villain or alien warlord. He was going to Hell to punch the Devil in the face.
The avatar he'd destroyed on Earth was nothing. A projection. A fraction of the demon's true might. In Hell, Mephisto would be something else entirely.
Going there unprepared would be suicide.
Arthur needed to power up. He needed everything.
—
Arthur closed his eyes and turned his attention inward.
Eighteen years ago, he had arrived in this world as a child with the knowledge of an adult and the magical potential of a prodigy. Hogwarts had taught him the basics.
But even then, he had known it wouldn't be enough.
This wasn't the simple Harry Potter universe. This was a world merged with the complex, terrifying Marvel universe.
Wizarding spells alone wouldn't cut it against the titans of this reality.
He had spent nearly two decades searching for that breakthrough. He'd mastered the Mystic Arts of Kamar-Taj. He'd trained in K'un-Lun, forging his body into a weapon through Chi.
Impressive skills, all of them. But none of them gave him the raw power he craved.
He thought it was an impossible task until he discovered Ancient Magic.
Ancient Magic, or as Arthur had come to understand it over years of study, the ambient energy that permeated the world itself. It flowed through ley lines and gathered in places of power, older than humanity, older than civilization. Perhaps older than the Earth itself.
It was very different from the magic in a wizard's core.
Ancient Magic was wild. Infinite. Untamed. Most wizards couldn't even sense it. Only a rare few in the entire history of the wizarding world had been born with the sensitivity to perceive it.
Arthur was one of them.
But knowing it existed wasn't the same as using it. There were no textbooks, no teachers, no guides. He had to start from scratch.
Learning to control it externally had taken four years of grueling practice. Four years of meditation and experimentation. Four years of failures and breakthroughs, of slowly teaching himself to reach beyond his core and grasp the power that surrounded him.
The results were impressive.
Spells amplified beyond anything normal wizards could achieve. Elemental manipulation on a scale that bordered on natural disasters. Raw magical force that could shatter wards and overwhelm defenses.
But impressive wasn't enough.
Not when beings like Odin walked the Nine Realms. Not when creatures like Mephisto ruled their own dimensions. Not when the universe contained threats that could extinguish humanity without even noticing.
Arthur wanted to stand among them. To match them. To surpass them.
That was when inspiration struck.
He thought of stories from other possible universes. Especially Naruto, an anime he'd watched in his past life. Specifically, he thought of Sage Mode. An empowered state entered by blending natural energy with one's own chakra.
The parallel was obvious.
Ancient Magic was natural energy. Ambient magic. Different names, same fundamental concept: power that existed outside the individual, waiting to be claimed.
What if he could do the same?
What if he could draw Ancient Magic not just to fuel his spells externally, but into himself? Absorb it. Merge with it. Transform himself into something greater?
The experimentation took another four years.
Four years of careful testing. Four years of learning how much he could safely absorb, how to cycle the energy through his magical pathways without burning them out, how to maintain the state without losing himself in the overwhelming flood of power.
It was dangerous. One mistake could burn him out from the inside, turning him to stone or dust.
But in the end, he succeeded.
He created something entirely new. Something that existed nowhere else in the world, in any tradition, in any grimoire.
His masterpiece.
—
Arthur took a deep breath.
And he pulled.
ROAR.
The atmosphere screamed as Ancient Magic rushed toward him like water down a drain. It flooded his body, not stopping at his core but permeating every muscle fiber, every nerve ending, every drop of blood.
His body began to glow.
It started at his chest. A soft white light that spread outward. His dark hair began to shimmer as if dusted with diamonds.
He opened his eyes.
They were no longer human. The pupils were gone, replaced by pools of ethereal, glowing white light that leaked energy like smoke.
A visible aura erupted around him. Silver flames danced and crackled, distorting the air for three feet in every direction.
Arthur Hayes floated in the upper atmosphere, transformed. Ascended.
"Arcane Mage State."
The name he had given it.
In this state, he was no longer just a wizard. His strength, speed, durability, and senses were amplified fivefold. His magical output was theoretically limitless, drawing directly from the environment rather than his internal core.
Elemental spells didn't just happen, they manifested with the force of natural disasters.
The downsides, of course, were significant.
The human body wasn't meant to hold this level of power. It leaked. It broke down. There was a time limit of about thirty minutes.
And when the state ended, his magical pathways would be scorched, leaving him unable to cast wizarding magic for a day while they healed.
Arthur had been working on extending the duration, on finding a way to make the state permanent. The research had been frustrating, hitting wall after wall.
He had been ready to give up until a few days ago.
Meeting Thor and Odin, gaining access to the Asgardian library, another inspiration had struck him like lightning.
What if Asgardians weren't born as gods?
What if they were living, breathing Arcane Mages who had evolved over millennia to hold the power permanently? What if their "divine physiology" was simply the end result of countless generations adapting to constant magical saturation?
Arthur had a theory: if he could slowly, methodically condition his body to accept the Ancient Magic, to fuse with it rather than just hold it... he could evolve. He could become like them. A being of divine physiology.
But that was a project for years, perhaps decades. And Asgard wouldn't just hand over the secrets of their evolution. He would have to figure it out on his own.
That research would have to wait.
Right now, time was ticking. And Mephisto was waiting in Hell.
Arthur reached out his hand. Nanites flowed from his bracelet, covering his glowing form in a sleek, black vibranium suit. The HUD flickered to life.
"Suit integrity at 100%," Eve reported, her voice quiet against the roar of his aura. "Arcane Mage State detected. Current estimated duration: thirty-two minutes, fourteen seconds."
"Thirty minutes," Arthur repeated. His voice now carried a harmonic resonance, like a choir speaking in unison. "Plenty of time."
He waved his hand.
A golden portal opened. It looked similar to the ones he usually created, but the view on the other side was different.
Darkness. Heat. The suggestion of vast spaces filled with fire and shadow.
Hell.
Arthur didn't hesitate. He stepped through.
—
The Realm of Hell
The air didn't just smell of sulfur. It smelled of ancient, baked despair.
The sky was a bruised purple, illuminated only by jagged rivers of magma cutting through the obsidian landscape. In the center of this desolate nightmare stood a fortress of black bone.
And inside the throne room, the Lord of Hell was furious.
CRASH.
A pillar of obsidian exploded into dust. Then another. Then another.
Mephisto moved through his throne room like a storm given flesh, his form flickering between his suave human mask and something far more ancient and terrible beneath.
"One punch," he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "One. Single. Punch."
He stopped before the shattered remains of his war table, chest heaving.
"I knew about his magic. I knew about his mystic arts. I accounted for everything." His clawed hand curled into a fist. "And still... still that mortal made me look like a fool."
The demons watching from the shadows didn't dare breathe. They had served their master for millennia. They had never seen him like this.
Mephisto's eyes burned with hellfire as he stared at nothing.
"Arthur Hayes." He spoke the name like a curse. "I should have killed him years ago. I should have crushed him when he weas still a boy."
He turned sharply, robes billowing, and began to pace.
"But no matter. He got lucky. He caught me off guard." A dangerous smile crept across his features. "Next time, I'll drag him down here. I'll chain him to the walls of my deepest pit. I'll spend the next thousand years teaching him what happens to mortals who embarrass me."
WHOOSH.
A sound cut through his rant. A sound that didn't belong in Hell.
Mephisto froze. He turned slowly, almost not believing it.
In the center of his throne room, a golden portal swirled open. And Arthur Hayes stepped through.
Glowing.
A blinding silver aura surrounded him, pushing back the oppressive darkness like it was nothing. His eyes were pools of pure white light. He looked less like a mortal wizard and more like a star that had decided to take human form.
For three full seconds, Mephisto simply stared.
Then he started to laugh.
It began as a chuckle. Low. Disbelieving. It built into something rich and genuine, echoing off the bone walls of his fortress.
"Oh, this is too perfect." Mephisto's grin stretched wide, showing too many teeth. "This is simply too perfect."
He began to descend from his dais, each step measured and deliberate.
"I was just thinking about how I would drag you down here, Hayes. How I would have to plot and scheme and wait for the perfect moment to trap you." He spread his arms wide, drinking in the sight. "And here you are. Gift-wrapped. Delivered straight to my door."
The shadows of the room began crawling toward him, wrapping around his form like living darkness.
"I knew you were arrogant. I knew you were prideful." His voice dropped to something almost affectionate. "But I never dreamed you were suicidal."
Arthur floated in place, saying nothing. The silver aura crackled around him.
Mephisto circled him slowly, like a shark that had spotted blood.
"Do you have any idea where you are, little wizard? This isn't your precious Earth. There's no one here to shield you from my anger."
He stopped directly in front of Arthur, towering over him as his form swelled with power.
"Here, I don't just bend reality. I am reality. Every flame answers to me. Every shadow obeys me. Every molecule of this dimension exists because I allow it to."
His smile turned cruel.
"You defeated me on Earth and thought yourself strong." He leaned in close. "But now you've stepped into the lion's den, little lamb… and I am going to savor this."
Arthur just floated there, the silver aura crackling around him. He didn't look impressed.
He checked his HUD. Twenty-nine minutes.
"Are you done monologuing?" Arthur asked. His voice echoed with that strange, harmonic resonance. "I'm on a schedule."
Mephisto blinked. "A schedule?"
"Yeah." Arthur clenched his fists. The silver aura spiked violently, cracking the bone floor beneath him. "I promised my wife I'd be home for dinner."
Mephisto stopped smiling.
The two locked eyes. Power building, the air tightening like a drawn bowstring.
Arthur flexed his fingers.
"So let's make this quick."