"The unnameable entity has awakened. It emerges from a world in the 31st century, crossing time to battle savage heroes in a primeval wilderness. It will arrive in the present, standing before you. You must prepare. You must uncover the secret of the Silver Key, traverse time and space to find it, and destroy it."
Solomon sat bolt upright, startling Fury, who was waiting outside the interrogation room. The mage's eyes snapped open just as the phoenix spread its wings, letting out a melodious, resonant cry. The cryptic warning Solomon had heard came from the mouth of a scruffy, soaking wet stray dog. From the moment he had seen the avatar of Yog-Sothoth seize the animal, Solomon had known this mutt, Jones, was far more than it seemed—a guise for an ancient, ineffable being.
This wasn't the first time Jones had demonstrated its otherworldly nature. It had once resisted Nyarlathotep's magic and even dragged one of his avatars into the open. While Solomon still couldn't fully ascertain Jones's identity, one thing was clear: beneath the guise of a stray dog lay a high-ranking entity of great power. Otherwise, it couldn't have reappeared after being taken to the chaotic center of Yog-Sothoth's universe—even if this was only a dream.
As for the being Jones had warned him about, Solomon had a guess: the one-eyed aberration Shuma-Gorath, a chaos god from an extradimensional void. No one knew its true form; the monstrous, tentacle-covered eyeball commonly depicted was just one facet of its nature. This being was more dangerous than even Dormammu.
Solomon knew he had to act quickly. He needed to resolve the current situation and relay this intelligence to the Sorcerer Supreme. Jones seemed cooperative, as it promptly expelled the hell-breathing Spnorg from its hiding spot, disguised as a trash can in the dreamscape.
"One minute," Solomon said, drawing a long sword in his right hand and a dagger in his left. He turned to Fury. "Phoenix's banishment spell lasts for one minute. Civilians must be at least 100 meters away from here, or I can't guarantee their safety."
Fury moved swiftly, ordering the strike team and agents to retreat. Once the orders were issued, he turned back to Solomon. "What's going on here? Why did you break from the plan?"
"That's not something you need to know," Solomon replied, casting layers of protective spells on himself. The hell-breathing Spnorg wasn't overly powerful, but its massive form and flames from the depths of hell made it a serious threat. "This police station might need a remodel after this," he added. "Got a good excuse ready? How about a gas explosion?"
Fury handed him an earpiece. "Solid excuse," he said. "We used the same one to cover up Hulk's existence. Of course, the whole world found out anyway."
"Good. Now leave." Solomon placed the earpiece in his ear. "I'll call for backup if I need it."
Shortly after Fury left, the top of the suspect's head split open, revealing a grotesque creature. Its head was far larger than a human's, with narrow slits for eyes and a massive, jagged maw filled with uneven teeth. Within its gaping mouth, a serpent-like organ protruded, emitting the stench of sulfur mixed with rotting breath.
As soon as the Spnorg emerged from the dream, the phoenix grabbed the innocent suspect and disappeared into the ether, leaving Solomon alone to face the monstrous entity. The creature swelled, forcing Solomon to retreat to the doorway as its massive form twisted and bent the room's metal furniture. The screeching of contorted steel grated on his ears.
"WOOOOOO—" The Spnorg's roar was deafening, shattering the police station's windows. Even agents stationed 100 meters away could hear the sound, though only Fury and Coulson, who knew the truth, furrowed their brows with concern for Solomon's safety.
"I know you can understand me," Solomon said in flawless Infernal, a language he had secretly practiced despite the Sorcerer Supreme's disapproval. "Unfortunately, you've stepped onto Earth." He attached the dagger to the long sword's hilt, forming a dual-bladed weapon. "So, death is your only option."
"WOOOOOO!!"
"Pretending you don't understand won't help." Solomon raised his gloved hand, and crimson serpents slithered forth, striking the creature with vicious speed. Their fangs pierced the Spnorg's thick hide, sinking deep into its flesh. These serpents didn't inject venom but consumed their prey's life force.
The hell-breathing Spnorg howled in agony, losing control as the pain overwhelmed it. Crashing through concrete walls, it charged at Solomon. The mage leapt and dodged while chanting spells, activating the enchantments on his twin blades. When the creature finally remembered its fiery breath, attempting to spew hellfire from a safe distance, Solomon advanced relentlessly, scaling collapsed concrete and twisted steel.
The building erupted like a soda can stuffed with fireworks, flames bursting through the windows and shooting skyward. Even the agents stationed a hundred meters away could feel the heat. The explosion's thunderous roar echoed through the area.
Solomon stood at the Spnorg's feet, encased in layers of glowing protection. The outermost barrier was a bright red sphere, followed by a deep blue, fabric-like shield, and an inner ring of orange-red sparks.
Solomon's meticulous preparation had paid off. His defenses included a trifold spell against energy damage, advanced arcane shielding, and a Kamar-Taj protective spell. Beneath these, his mage armor provided another layer of security, accompanied by anti-projectile and bulletproof wards designed specifically for potential S.H.I.E.L.D. betrayals.
With these safeguards, the Spnorg's hellfire posed no threat. Still, Solomon made no effort to dispel his protective spells. For a mage, caution was not cowardice—it was wisdom.
The dual-bladed weapon proved devastating. As Solomon swung, a massive arc of crimson energy slashed the Spnorg's back, leaving a deep gash. He quickly severed its limbs with precise strikes until the beast was immobilized. The final blow came as Solomon drove the blade into the creature's spine, severing it. Dark, sulfuric blood sprayed from its wounds, and the Spnorg's dying wails faded into weak gasps.
"Do you need help, Solomon? Can you hear me?" Fury's voice came through the earpiece.
"Loud and clear," Solomon replied, using his sword as a makeshift cane to climb onto the beast's back. Crossing its bleeding wounds, he approached its thick neck—or what resembled a neck—and plunged his blade deep, ending its life. He began dragging the weapon, attempting to sever its head. "But no, I don't need help."
"The fire will burn through your air soon. The heat and smoke will kill you before anything else does. You're not planning to let Earth's only mage choke to death, are you?"
"It's smoky, sure, but I'm fine."
"Then hurry up. Coulson's trying to calm the local police. If not for our numbers, they'd have already shot us for wrecking their station."
"That's your problem to fix."
"You invited me here, but I didn't even get to see the monster!" Fury complained. "All I saw was your phoenix and your Pegasus. When are you going to let me witness what you're actually doing?"
"Last time you saw interdimensional bacteria, how long before you could eat again?"
"A day, maybe."
"Well, this thing—ugh—is worse. But not as bad as an Elder Giant."
"What the hell are you doing in there?!"
"Claiming my trophy. Isn't severing the enemy's head a warrior's honor? Though this one's a bit oversized," Solomon said, stroking the phoenix's head as it appeared beside him. "Don't expect samples of the hell creature, though. Its blood is highly flammable."
"Motherfer!" Fury swore, staring at the intensifying flames. "And those little crawlers—are those yours too?"
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