The brooding sky had been brewing for a long time, and finally, the storm broke. Lightning pierced the thick clouds, thunder rumbled across the void, and raindrops the size of beans pelted the ground, kicking up a hazy mist...
All of New York had become a vast battleground between Hell and the Sanctum. As the material world's defenses crumbled, the number of dark minions surged. Led by the Six Lords of Hell, the infernal creatures flooded into the Mirror Dimension like a tidal wave.
A towering balrog, standing thirteen feet tall, emerged on Broadway Avenue. Its body was wreathed in sulfur and flames, crowned with massive horns, its hands gripping a crude battle-axe. Hoofed feet crushed a car flat as it charged toward the New York Sanctum.
A squad of monster hunters fired alchemical guns that were loaded with mercury-laced bullets, which were deadly to vampires... but against the balrog's armored hide, they were nothing more than an annoyance.
Scorching heat radiated from the demon, turning the rain into steam that blanketed Broadway in white fog. Amid the downpour, the balrog roared and swung its axe, only for the Sanctum sorcerers manning the defensive line to raise their relics. Brilliant spell arrays flared beneath their feet as they drew upon the vast power of the Vishanti.
Similar battles erupted across the city.
A skeletal dragon, its wings blotting out the sky, perched atop the Statue of Liberty, its pale skull thrown back in a roar, ghostly flames flickering in its hollow eye sockets.
On Wall Street, the heart of global finance, nightmares wreathed in sinister energy toppled the famous Charging Bull statue before rampaging through Lower Manhattan. Tens of thousands of spectral wraiths poured down from the Empire State Building, while legions of stone golems occupied Times Square.
Faced with this infernal invasion, the Sanctum forces displayed tenacious resistance. Centered around the New York Sanctum, they organized dozens of defensive lines, interwoven into a massive spell array that siphoned the endless energy of nature.
Thirty smaller strongholds were established along the surrounding blocks, where Sanctum sorcerers led the Knights and monster hunters in deploying arrays to hold back the advancing dark tide.
"Is this the courage of mankind? It is worthless in the face of the coming apocalypse." Samael lingered at the edges of Hell's gate, his crimson dragon's head emerging from the thick, swirling dark mist, eyes burning with hellfire.
"Chaos comes! Order crumbles! The living shall die, and the dead shall perish!" Zarathos was the first to step forward.
Hellfire erupted around him as he lunged at the solitary Sorcerer Supreme with frenzied abandon.
Even with the last Sanctum still standing, the weakening of the material world's defenses meant the suppression of Hell's rulers had grown feeble.
As an ancient elemental demon, Zarathos knew the Six Lords of Hell would not recklessly charge forward. Mephisto's fate was a lesson none wished to repeat.
"Zarathos, you will once again remember the might of the Sorcerer Supreme." The Ancient One snorted coldly.
She took a step forward, the radiant crown upon her brow blazing with light. Intense flames of the mind surged upward, forcing the Lords of Hell to instinctively shut their eyes against the blinding brilliance.
"Bolts of Balthakk!" A thick, serpentine beam of energy shot from the Ancient One's hands like rolling thunder, colliding violently with the hellfire!
Before Zarathos could react, a piercing shriek tore from his throat as the black flames covering his body were abruptly extinguished!
Emerald light bloomed from the Ancient One's hands as the Eye of Agamotto at her chest silently opened. With a single gesture, she wove lines of energy into an endless knot, binding Zarathos in place.
"For creatures like you, I have no mercy." For the first time, the demon's eyes flickered with fear and a plea for mercy, but the Sorcerer Supreme remained unmoved.
In an instant, Zarathos was sealed within a temporal prison. There, time looped endlessly, never ceasing. Zarathos would endure an agony worse than death.
Imagine a single second stretched into an infinite cycle, woven into an unbreakable ring, repeating without end. For those trapped within, what torment could be greater?
"Who's next?" The Ancient One stood atop the clouds, her cold gaze sweeping over the six figures at Hell's gate.
With Zarathos's fate fresh in their minds, even the most hot-tempered among them (Samael) held his tongue. The cunning and caution of demons were just as notorious as their cruelty.
Their original plan had been to harvest human souls before Dormammu dragged the planet into the Dark Dimension. But the Ancient One refused to yield, standing firm at Hell's gate, blocking the dark lords' invasion...
"We need not be enemies." From the depths of the dark mist, a figure emerged, one hooded and cloaked in black.
This was Abaddon, the so-called Lord of Pestilence, ruler of the locust hordes. His description could be found in the ninth chapter of the book of Revelations:
"A great star fell from heaven, blazing like a torch. It fell into the abyss, and from the smoke arose locusts upon the earth. They were given power like scorpions, to torment those who did not bear the seal of God upon their foreheads. Their appearance was like horses prepared for battle, with human faces, women's hair, lions' teeth, and iron breastplates. The sound of their wings was like the thunder of many chariots rushing to war."
This Lord of Hell commanded legions of the dead and swarms of locusts. His power was no less than Mephisto's.
"What possible cooperation could we have?" The Ancient One's voice dripped with scorn.
The red sigil on her forehead glowed as the Dark Dimension's corruption seeped into the material world. Dormammu's descent was imminent.
"We could join forces against Dormammu. All we ask is that you open the material world to Hell's denizens. Compared to letting Dormammu drag this planet into the Dark Dimension, isn't this a lesser sacrifice? One that might preserve a sliver of hope for mankind?" Abaddon pushed back his hood, revealing a grotesque insectoid face. His compound eyes glinted with deceit.
"We all know one truth: demons have no honor." The Ancient One said calmly. Her gaze, sharp as winter wind, swept over the six figures at Hell's gate, "Dormammu's arrival will take time. Before then, perhaps I should deal with you first."
Her white robes billowed as the Sorcerer Supreme charged into Hell's gate without hesitation. Thousands of shadows split apart. The Illusions of Ikonn, a supreme spell from the Book of the Vishanti, conjuring countless tangible duplicates.
Hell was in turmoil, instantly swirling into chaos. The Six Lords of Hell, who had planned to remain spectators, now roared in fury. Their voices laced with unmistakable panic:
"You dare?!"
"This is suicide!"
"Ancient One!"
Sean, standing high above the battlefield, couldn't help but marvel as he tightened his grip around Blackheart's throat, "This is Earth's mightiest sorcerer... Truly, a force and conviction worthy of respect."
To charge into Hell alone and take on six demonic lords... such courage and power were undeniably awe-inspiring.
"I am the Son of Hell! You cannot–!"
Sean smirked, ignoring Blackheart's struggles. With a cold laugh, he hurled him downward with all his might.
Mephisto's son, the would-be Lord of Hell, tore through over a hundred floors of the World Trade Center before embedding himself deep into the earth.
His demonic body, which was capable of withstanding artillery fire, shattered like porcelain...