Mephisto's gaze lingered greedily on the weapon in Garus's hand. "A legendary artifact embedded with the Infinity Stones? What a waste in your hands. Now, behold the power of the Lord of Hell!"
With a deafening roar, Mephisto's form began to shift. Once humanoid in appearance, his head now sprouted long, curved horns, and his eyes glowed with a piercing white light. His skin vanished, revealing raw, crimson muscle beneath—this was his true form.
Though Mephisto preferred trickery and manipulation through contracts, it did not mean he lacked raw power.
His body expanded rapidly, growing into a towering, demonic colossus. In his hands, a massive flaming longsword materialized, swinging down toward Garus with devastating force.
"What the hell—? Is this a Titan's Avatar? Or did he steal Pym Particles?" Garus cursed internally. Mephisto now stood over fifty meters tall, his flaming sword stretching nearly forty meters in length. Compared to him, Garus was as insignificant as an ant.
Boom!
The ground trembled as the fiery blade clashed with Frostmourne. The sheer size disparity of the weapons was staggering, but with the Power Stone's energy coursing through him, Garus did not falter. The violet light of the Infinity Stone corroded Mephisto's blade, forcing the demon to take notice.
"The Infinity Stones truly live up to their legend!" Mephisto's eyes flickered as his mental energy surged into Garus's consciousness, attempting to rewrite his memories.
Thud!
Mephisto recoiled as if struck by a hammer, his enormous body staggering backward. "The Mind Stone?!" he gasped. In Garus's psyche, he had glimpsed a radiant sphere of golden light that had instantly repelled his intrusion. Even his formidable mental prowess had been forced out in an instant. "Just how many of the Stones do you have?!"
Legends spoke of the Six Infinity Stones granting dominion over reality itself, bestowing unfathomable power. Some even whispered that gathering them all could summon the fabled Goddess of Vengeance through the mysterious seventh stone.
"Wait!" Mephisto took another step back, narrowly avoiding Garus's plague-infused strike. "There's a Time Stone in the Ancient Order's sanctum! I can help you get it. What do you say? You crave power, don't you?" His voice was honeyed, persuasive.
"I don't need your help." Garus, impervious to the searing magma around him, pressed his assault, his blade carving deep gashes into Mephisto's flesh.
Nearby, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents realized they were completely outmatched. Agent May skillfully piloted the Quinjet, weaving between chaotic magical energies and rampaging demons.
"May, we should fall back. There's nothing we can do here," Lance muttered anxiously, his eyes darting over the rivers of lava and swarms of demons that had turned the battlefield into a nightmarish landscape.
May hesitated, watching the violent clash of ice and fire in the distance. After a moment, she made her decision and opened a comm channel. "Director Coulson, the situation is beyond our control. We need to retreat immediately."
"Understood. Get back here safely," Coulson responded, unwilling to risk his team against forces far beyond them.
Mephisto's massive sword sliced through the air, displacing molten rock that instantly froze upon contact with Garus's magic, shattering into jagged shards.
As the Lord of Hell, even in this avatar form, Mephisto wielded power second only to Odin himself. Yet his true strength lay in his infernal legions, which he commanded without hesitation.
Suddenly, grotesque, fanged creatures erupted from the ground beneath Garus, their gaping maws reeking of decay.
Plague Strike!
A sickly green aura radiated from Garus's blade, infecting the demonic horde. Virulent tendrils leaped between them, spreading like wildfire. One by one, the demons collapsed, their once-mighty bodies succumbing to the relentless disease.
Mephisto's eyes widened in disbelief. He recognized the spell as a plague, yet demons were notoriously resistant to curses and infections. This should not have been possible.
...
Kamar-Taj - Ancient Order's Sanctum.
A swirling portal reflected the infernal battlefield within its shimmering depths. The Ancient One stood before it, contemplative. After a moment, she called for Mordo.
"Mephisto has made an unprecedented incursion into our realm. We must act. Gather the sorcerers, and take Stephen with you."
Mordo hesitated. "Master, that man can't even conjure a proper portal. He'll only slow us down. I don't want to be responsible for his death."
The Ancient One smiled knowingly. "Without experiencing real battle, he will never grow. Do not underestimate him. His potential is unparalleled—he merely needs the right… push."
Mordo remained skeptical. He had never heard the Ancient One praise anyone so highly. To him, Strange was still a stubborn novice, incapable of contributing in a real fight.
Dragging Stephen Strange into this battle was akin to sending a level-one rookie into a level-sixty dungeon.
At the training grounds of Kamar-Taj, the Order's sorcerers sparred intensely. Meanwhile, Stephen was thoroughly getting his face beaten in, much to the amusement of onlookers.
"I've had enough of this!" Strange wiped the blood from his nose, scowling. "You think this is funny? I came here to heal my hands, not to be your punching bag!"
Mordo crossed his arms. "This is not a hospital. If you want to heal, go to one."
"Okay, that's enough," Mordo commanded, clapping his hands to summon the gathered sorcerers. "Mephisto is invading our world. As its protectors, we must stand against him. This is our duty."
Though Kamar-Taj remained untouched, Mordo was already itching for battle.
Raising his Sling Ring, he attempted to conjure a portal, but only a few sparks flickered before fizzling out. The chaotic energies of hellfire and necrotic magic had thrown the area's spatial balance into complete disarray.
"We'll need to combine our power." The assembled sorcerers lifted their hands in unison, focusing their will. A golden portal shimmered into existence before them, revealing the hellish landscape beyond.
One by one, the sorcerers stepped through.
"Stephen Strange." Mordo seized the reluctant sorcerer by the collar, dragging him toward the portal. "You want to heal your hands? Then come with me."
"Hey, stop! Let go of me! I'm not tired of living yet!" Strange flailed in protest, his horror evident as he stared at the battlefield ahead. He had seen reports of the demonic invasion online, but witnessing it firsthand was another matter entirely.
Ignoring his screams, Mordo shoved him through the portal. The next moment, the Ancient Order's sorcerers—and one very unwilling Stephen Strange—arrived on the battlefield of hell.
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