[Marvel's Hogwarts Professor] Chapter 666 - 670

Chapter 666: The God's Wrath

Annihilation?

The moment Grindelwald's command rang out, the sorcerers snapped from their collective trance. Until now, they had focused solely on containing the divine essence—a precious resource they had only dreamed of possessing.

Their instincts had been to capture, to preserve, to acquire.

But with this radical shift in strategy, the assembled sorcerers immediately altered their approach. Death-infused black blades materialized from shadow. Spectral skull sigils pulsed with forbidden magic. Dark green mists of ancient curses billowed forth.

All these deadly forces converged on the scattered fragments of white-gold divine essence.

Upon contact with these dark magics, the luminous essence began to fade and dissipate. Sensing the mortal danger, the remaining essence halted its emission, retreating toward the safety of the colossal soul-body.

Relief washed over the sorcerers. They had avoided the worst outcome—for now.

Their momentary respite was brutally short-lived.

BOOM!

The immense divine soul, previously motionless, began to tremble with mounting fury. From above, a colossal fist—partially transparent yet radiating overwhelming power—descended upon them with devastating speed.

"Hold fast!" someone shouted desperately. "We cannot allow the essence to reunite with its soul!"

The sorcerers' expressions tightened with dread as they watched the enormous, translucent fist plummeting toward them. With frantic motions, they manipulated their sling rings to strengthen their collective shield.

The defensive barrier, originally gray-black in coloration, suddenly blazed with arcane light. Countless intricate runes flowed across its surface, reinforcing its structure against the impending impact.

BOOM!

Too late. Too fast. The divine fist collided with their shield with cataclysmic force. Nearly every sorcerer present paled at the sheer magnitude of the impact.

By some miracle, they had survived—but barely.

Before they could recover, darkness fell upon them once more as another massive fist descended.

"HOLD!" came the desperate cry as everyone gritted their teeth, channeling every ounce of their remaining strength into the faltering shield.

BOOM!

Another thunderous impact as the divine soul's fist struck their barrier again. Enormous quantities of conflicting soul energy collided in a spectacular display of magical warfare.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!

Many weaker sorcerers collapsed, vomiting blood as the magical backlash tore through their bodies. Even the strongest among them now struggled to maintain consciousness under the repeated assault.

They might withstand one or two more impacts, but beyond that? None dared contemplate their chances.

After all, they were merely mortal magicians facing the wrath of divinity. To the colossal god-soul, these devastating attacks represented little more than negligible exertion—like flicking away bothersome insects.

"What now?" gasped one fallen sorcerer, his voice weak with exhaustion and fear. "I cannot... maintain this any longer."

The implicit suggestion of retreat was clear in his tone. He, like many others, possessed only one life—was this truly worth sacrificing everything?

Similar thoughts flickered through many minds. Numerous sorcerers exchanged uncertain glances, weighing retreat against opportunity. This was, after all, a chance that might appear once in a millennium. To abandon it now meant potentially never encountering such an opportunity again.

For leaders like David, however, such thoughts of retreat were instantly suppressed. The path to godhood was inevitably paved with countless corpses. Danger was not merely expected—it was prerequisite.

If obtaining the divine essence could dramatically increase their chances of ascension, how could they possibly surrender?

"Mephisto, Dormammu," David addressed the two cosmic entities, reluctance evident in his voice. "What course would you suggest?"

After all, these beings themselves possessed god-level power; surely they would have greater insight when confronting another deity.

"I propose retreating with the divine essence," Mephisto replied, his gaze lingering on the white-gold sphere as a smile played across his lips. "The soul-body currently lacks consciousness—it attacks purely on instinct."

He gestured dismissively. "Change location, and you reduce the probability of pursuit. Even should it follow, the delay would provide sufficient time to study the essence thoroughly."

As he spoke, Mephisto unconsciously licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with undisguised hunger as he stared at the divine essence.

Dormammu nodded in agreement. "The god's soul possesses tremendous power, but without its reconnected essence, its reaction speed remains severely limited."

The cosmic entity's voice resonated with cold calculation. "Remaining here to endure direct assault ensures our defeat. However, tactical withdrawal while continuing to attack the soul-body will progressively diminish the threat."

David's expression soured at their proposal. "I considered this approach already."

He gestured toward the restrained essence. "But our current strength barely contains the essence here. Extracting it from this space would prove extraordinarily difficult with our available power."

To his surprise, Mephisto smiled confidently. "Do not concern yourself with that particular challenge. Leave the matter to us."

The demon lord's eyes gleamed with ancient knowledge. "Your responsibility lies in engaging the soul-body."

But even as he spoke—

BOOM!

Another massive impact rocked their defensive barrier. The shield flashed with blinding obsidian light as arcane runes surged across its surface in desperate reinforcement.

They had barely withstood this latest assault from the divine soul.

David's already pale face darkened further at the prospect Mephisto suggested. The task of battling the soul-body was clearly thankless—they could barely see past its ankles, let alone hope to destroy such a colossal entity.

Their collective power would be exhausted long before inflicting meaningful damage.

Moreover, Mephisto and Dormammu's eagerness to transport the divine essence raised immediate suspicion. David found himself calculating multiple contingencies and betrayals simultaneously.

However...

Looking upward, he witnessed another enormous divine fist descending from the heavens with inexorable force.

David gritted his teeth in resignation. "Very well. We'll relocate the divine essence first. We cannot withstand much more here."

He turned to Strange, beckoning urgently. "Strange, take a contingent of sorcerers to accompany Mephisto and Dormammu. Your group will escort the divine essence to safety."

I still cannot trust Mephisto completely, he thought. Better to send Strange, who has demonstrated resistance to Mephisto's influence.

Mephisto's expression remained unchanged—his smile intact as if he had anticipated this decision entirely.

Strange hesitated momentarily before nodding his understanding. He immediately summoned Grindelwald and several powerful fallen sorcerers to his side.

Meanwhile, David hurriedly explained the revised strategy to the remaining sorcerers. Despite disagreement from some quarters, the urgency of their situation silenced most objections.

Additional sorcerers were assigned to guard the divine essence—a concession David granted readily given their desperate circumstances.

With surprising efficiency, the plan received approval. Mephisto and Dormammu began preparing the extraction ritual while Strange and the selected sorcerers readied themselves to depart with the contained divine essence.

As the group departed, David's expression underwent a remarkable transformation. The urgent, serious demeanor melted away, replaced by barely contained exultation.

Staring at the massive divine soul-body before him, ecstasy gleamed in his eyes.

Though his original plans had required significant adaptation, his ultimate goal remained unwavering.

This unexpected turn of events wasn't a setback—it was divine providence.

What he truly desired was not a fragment of godhood.

He wanted to seize the god's body entirely.

Chapter 667: The Path to Godhood

The Celestials—gods from birth.

This fundamental truth had been repeated countless times among the sorcerers, each repetition awakening fresh waves of envy.

David was no exception.

For decades, these fallen sorcerers had devoted themselves to arcane practices, betraying Kamar-Taj and embracing forbidden arts—all in pursuit of godhood. Yet the path remained perilously uncertain. Of the many who embarked upon this journey, typically only one or two would succeed. Most perished in obscurity, their ambitions unfulfilled.

The reality was ruthless: one general's triumph built upon ten thousand shattered bones.

But the Celestials? These cosmic entities achieved godhood through the simple act of birth. From the moment of awakening, a Celestial existed as a divine being—complete with its own planet-sized body rather than merely a dimensional realm.

Even in the most ideal circumstances, should David successfully ascend to godhood through conventional means, he would barely manage to create a dimensional prototype and establish rudimentary authority. Creating a fully-formed dimensional world would require centuries of effort, vast resources, and considerable fortune.

Celestials were born with such gifts already bestowed.

Who wouldn't burn with envy, jealousy, and covetous desire upon learning this? Who wouldn't yearn to usurp such a birthright?

Yet Celestials were exceedingly rare, with embryonic Celestials rarer still. Many perished before achieving maturity.

And now...

A living god embryo lay before him—within reach.

The deepest desires in David's heart ignited with blinding intensity.

He wanted to become a god—not through arduous effort and uncertain ritual, but through direct appropriation.

Where others struggled through countless trials merely to glimpse the divine realm, Celestials were born into that exalted state—inheriting racial memories, controlling natural worlds, possessing cosmic treasures from their very inception.

The conventional path to godhood that David had pursued now seemed needlessly circuitous. If he could seize this embryonic Celestial's essence, he would become the new god—instantly inheriting ancient memories, cosmic treasures, and an entire divine world.

How could he possibly ignore such a shortcut—no, such a celestial highway to power?

And now the circumstances had aligned perfectly. An empty soul-body stood before him, its true essence captured and removed by Mephisto and the others.

If David could successfully integrate his consciousness into this divine vessel, he would become the embryonic god's new soul. He could then assert control over the Celestial's physical form and its associated cosmic domain.

He would become the new god.

This had been David's plan all along, and the perfect moment had finally arrived. His heart soared with anticipation.

"Chief, what should we do next?"

The sudden question from a nearby fallen sorcerer jolted David from his reverie. Together, they watched as the massive soul-body began moving slowly, apparently guided by instinct as it attempted to pursue its departed essence.

David narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Do nothing for now. Simply observe its movements."

His voice remained cool and measured. "If it demonstrates any unexpected behavior, use containment spells to restrict its mobility."

The other sorcerers exchanged skeptical glances but nodded without further question. What else could they do? Though they commanded impressive dark magic, destroying such an enormous soul-body would require time they simply didn't have.

With Lockhart and Thor potentially arriving at any moment, time had become their most precious resource.

"Maintain your vigilance. I'll conduct a closer investigation," David announced before breaking away from the group and ascending rapidly toward the colossal figure.

The remaining sorcerers exchanged uncertain glances before dispersing to establish a perimeter.

As David continued his ascent, the true scale of the divine soul became apparent. He passed massive thighs and towering arms before finally reaching the entity's face.

The soul-visage was immense—its features spread across an area equivalent to dozens of basketball courts. Despite its colossal proportions, the face appeared strikingly youthful, closely resembling the embryonic Celestial's physical form outside this mental realm.

David barely acknowledged these observations as he positioned himself directly between the divine soul's eyes and brows.

In its current state—bereft of its true essence—the soul-body existed in a purely instinctive state. Its eyes remained dull and unfocused, its expression frozen in placid emptiness.

The entire soul-form oriented itself eastward—the direction in which Mephisto had transported its essence. It advanced with glacial slowness, drawn inexorably toward its missing consciousness.

David did not act immediately. The timing had to be perfect.

Hovering before the center of the divine soul's brow, David manipulated his sling ring with precise gestures. A slender ray of white-gold divine essence emerged from between his fingers.

What the others didn't know was that David had successfully captured a fragment of the god's true essence. Rather than destroying it as commanded, he had imprisoned this divine spark within his own soul.

This explained his limited participation in the earlier battle—most of his magical strength had been dedicated to containing this stolen essence.

All for one purpose: to seize the Celestial's soul-body.

David carefully relaxed his suppression of the divine essence fragment. Rather than continuing to restrain it, he actively guided this white-gold spark toward the soul-body before him.

The ray of essence flew directly to the divine soul's forehead. Sensing a portion of its true self returning, the soul-body began accepting the essence immediately.

The moment the soul-body lowered its natural defenses—

David activated his sling ring with a complex gesture. His own soul separated from his physical form in a flash of mystical energy.

Simultaneously, a deep amber-gold essence emerged from David's disembodied soul—his true spirit, the core of his being.

This amber essence entwined with the white-gold divine fragment, the two spiraling together as they rushed toward the receptive brow of the Celestial's soul-body.

David's physical form began disintegrating, his flesh and bone melting into streams of pure energy that poured into the divine soul. His mortal vessel became a conduit, a sacrifice to his ambition.

To usurp a god's body required a medium—without one, the inherent divine defenses would instantly repel any intrusion. The fragment of true essence David had preserved served as his Trojan horse.

By merging his own essence with this divine fragment, he could bypass the Celestial's natural barriers as the soul-body instinctively welcomed what it perceived as its returning consciousness.

David committed everything to this gambit. He shattered his physical form and burned his soul into their most fundamental energies, channeling every particle of his existence into the divine vessel.

All to provide additional strength for his spiritual invasion.

Perhaps David lacked excellence in many aspects, but in ruthlessness, he had no equal. He had betrayed Kamar-Taj without hesitation to pursue godhood. Now, he sacrificed his body, soul, and lifetime of accumulated power for the ultimate prize.

His efforts bore fruit—the amber essence merged successfully with the divine soul-body. A dark golden sigil manifested between the Celestial's brows, pulsing with conflicting energies.

The battle for control of a god's body had officially begun.

Chapter 668: The Price of Ambition

Faster! Faster! FASTER!

A single thought consumed David's essence as he surged through the void—to merge completely with the Celestial's soul.

BZZZZZ!

What felt like an eternity compressed into a single moment.

The next instant, warmth enveloped his true spirit—like an infant returning to its mother's embrace.

He had successfully entered the god's soul!

His elation was indescribable. Pure essence supported by the surrounding soul energy, David's consciousness began to restore itself. He greedily absorbed the immaculate soul energy surrounding him, strengthening his fragmented awareness.

Gradually, clarity returned. He was David—a sorcerer in pursuit of eternity.

The world had vilified him endlessly, yet he harbored no regrets. His heart contained only twin obsessions: immortality and godhood.

As his consciousness stabilized, David reluctantly ceased absorbing the surrounding soul energy. Not from lack of desire—but from recognition of his limits. Further absorption risked shattering his true spirit entirely.

This was indeed a god's soul. Even as merely a vessel, the energy it contained resembled an infinite ocean whose boundaries David could not perceive.

The minuscule portion he had managed to absorb was comparable to extracting a single drop from the vast seas. And that solitary drop represented the absolute maximum he could safely integrate.

Despite this sobering reality, excitement surged through David as he attempted to assert control over the colossal divine soul.

A soul without its conscious essence was like an animal operating on pure instinct—no intelligence, only primal reactions. It should be easily deceived, easily controlled.

However...

David made a devastating discovery. He could control the god's soul—but only an infinitesimal fraction of it.

The divine soul was simply too vast.

All he managed was the equivalent of flexing a single finger on a cosmic hand.

Upon this realization, bitter irony flooded David's awareness. He had meticulously suppressed a fragment of divine essence, sacrificed his physical form and soul to serve as a medium for control.

He had succeeded in entering the Celestial's soul and gaining nominal control—yet simultaneously failed because the soul's sheer magnitude exceeded his capacity to direct it.

How cruelly unfair!

After all his careful planning and ruthless sacrifice, he stood just half a step from total victory. The Celestial soul was simply too enormous for his true spirit to command fully.

A realization dawned upon him as his thoughts drifted to the original divine essence sphere they had captured. This explained why the god's true essence and soul existed separately—the essence itself had not fully matured and could not yet control its intended vessel.

Comparing the size of the divine essence sphere to his own true spirit, David's consciousness filled with despair.

His essence, while not small by sorcerer standards—roughly the size of an infant's hand—was dwarfed by the divine sphere, which had been approximately half the size of an adult human.

David's metaphysical form quivered with anguish and desolation.

After everything he had sacrificed...

This was his reward?

Had he retained his physical form, he would have vomited blood from sheer rage. But now he existed only as true spirit—his body and soul had been sacrificed in his attempt to seize divinity.

He now possessed nothing beyond his presence within this uncontrollable divine vessel.

The cosmic irony crushed him. He had spent every resource at his disposal to reach the vault containing ultimate power, only to discover he lacked the key to open it.

No words could adequately express his frozen rage, his despair, his bitter anguish.

He had been defeated by his own ambition.

David's true spirit remained suspended within the divine soul, gradually integrating with the surrounding soul energy. The amber sigil marking his presence slowly began transforming and expanding.

He noticed this development but felt no joy—only continuing despair.

Calculating based on his true spirit's current growth rate, he realized the horrifying timeline: to reach a size comparable to the divine essence sphere would require far more than a mere century—at minimum, a thousand years, likely longer.

Even then, fully controlling this immense divine soul would demand tens of thousands of years.

This realization triggered another wave of anguish. He could endure waiting—he possessed the patience—but external reality made such a timeline impossible.

Beyond this divine realm waited Mephisto, Dormammu, and numerous fallen sorcerers. Not to mention Asgard and Kamar-Taj. If necessary, Odin himself and the Sorcerer Supreme would inevitably intervene.

Under such circumstances, how much time realistically remained? A month? Perhaps only hours or days before he would be shattered along with the god's soul.

What meaning did time hold when oblivion loomed so near?

Suddenly David understood why neither Dormammu nor Mephisto had attempted to control the Celestial soul directly—they recognized the impossibility of immediate success.

No wonder the Celestials were so rare, their birth so difficult. Beyond the temporal requirements, the cultivation of both soul and true essence demanded perfect alignment before consciousness could emerge.

WHY?

Desperate hopelessness confronted him still.

Yet surrender remained unthinkable. After all his sacrifices—even betraying Kamar-Taj and allying with cosmic entities of evil—to fall because of such a ridiculous miscalculation...

It was beyond absurd.

No, he would not simply accept defeat. He refused to wait passively for death.

He could die standing, but never kneeling.

A ruthless determination crystallized within David's essence.

WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

He began absorbing the surrounding soul energy with renewed purpose, accelerating the strengthening of his true spirit. Simultaneously, he discovered he could navigate quickly within this vast soul-body.

He would search for an escape route—or better yet, a central nexus point that might assist him in controlling the soul. Hope flickered within him. His original soul and body, though transformed into energy, had not yet been completely assimilated by the divine soul.

As David frantically absorbed the Celestial's soul energy, his amber soul-mark gradually acquired a platinum tinge.

________________________________________

Mephisto and Dormammu flew side by side, the captured divine essence suspended between them.

The sphere of consciousness was enormous—at least half the height of a person. Mephisto regarded it with undisguised hunger in his ancient eyes.

Compared to a physical body, a soul represented the true essence of divinity. And compared to the soul, the conscious essence embodied divinity's purest expression. Its value transcended ordinary treasures.

Behind the two cosmic entities followed a contingent of fallen sorcerers, watching their every movement with thinly veiled suspicion.

Even the most dim-witted among them recognized the divine essence's incalculable worth. They knew that if either Mephisto or Dormammu decided to claim it, they would face a battle beyond their capacity to win.

After all, these were merely avatars of the true entities—their original forms having suffered grievous damage from previous encounters with the Sorcerer Supreme.

Fear dominated their thoughts, keeping their vigilance razor-sharp.

Suddenly...

Dormammu's voice reached Mephisto, carrying a half-amused tone.

"Mephisto, do you believe David's plan has any chance of success?"

Chapter 669: Awakening

"David?" Dormammu's question hung in the space between them.

"Don't concern yourself with him," Mephisto replied, contempt saturating his tone. "Greed might enable a serpent to swallow an elephant, but David? He's merely an ant attempting the same feat."

When David had initiated his plan, Mephisto had already surmised his intentions. Otherwise, how to explain such aberrant behavior? The fallen sorcerer had doggedly followed Mephisto throughout their mission—his sudden departure could only be explained by one objective: the colossal divine soul.

The fool.

With David's limited essence, controlling a Celestial's soul was beyond impossible. Even Mephisto himself, unless manifesting his true form at full power, would not dare claim the ability to command such a divine vessel.

"Greed inevitably brings self-destruction," Dormammu observed calmly. "Anyone can experience desire—the crucial distinction lies in whether one possesses the wisdom to restrain it."

Hearing Dormammu's pointed remark, Mephisto smiled thinly. "Rest assured, I am the least avaricious among us."

The subtext was clear. Mephisto's earlier insistence on David accompanying them had been calculated—a reminder to Dormammu himself to curb any private ambitions regarding the divine essence.

Dormammu met Mephisto's obsidian gaze for several lingering seconds before looking away. When he spoke again, his voice emerged as barely more than a whisper.

"We proceed with caution. The divine essence is not easily manipulated."

His tone deepened with warning. "Remember where we stand—within the god's own consciousness. This is the divine essence's home territory."

Dormammu drifted closer to the captive essence, studying its continued struggle. A flicker of astonishment and covetousness shone briefly in his eyes, though he masked these emotions masterfully from casual observation.

Meanwhile, Strange exchanged a meaningful glance with Grindelwald before initiating mental communication through their Legilimency connection.

"Master, what exactly has David done? Why did he depart so abruptly?"

Grindelwald harbored his own suspicions, though they seemed too outlandish to voice. Ultimately, he merely shook his head in response.

One could hardly blame his uncertainty. Gazing upon that immense divine soul, the notion of attempting to usurp it seemed beyond lunacy. When an entity grew beyond a certain magnitude without corresponding capability to control it, the result was invariably destruction.

Whatever calculations had driven David to this choice remained obscure to conventional reasoning.

BOOM!

A thunderous sound erupted behind them.

The Celestial's soul advanced with ponderous steps, each movement covering kilometers despite its seemingly unhurried pace.

They had one small advantage—the entity lacked complete consciousness. Had it possessed full awareness, their escape would have proven far more complicated.

However...

BOOM!

Another massive step, noticeably quicker and covering greater distance than before.

With this single stride, the gap between pursuers and pursued diminished dramatically.

The imprisoned divine essence seemed to sense its soul's proximity. It began resisting their containment with renewed vigor.

Dormammu quickly extended his hand, channeling additional magical energy to reinforce the restraints.

BOOM!

A third footfall landed with earth-shattering force. This time, everyone distinctly felt the massive shock wave of displaced air surging toward them.

Expressions shifted to alarm throughout their company. Several sorcerers displayed naked fear.

What was happening?

The divine soul's reactions were accelerating, becoming more coordinated with each passing moment.

Even Mephisto's countenance grew serious. He intensified his power output and altered course, steering the divine essence and their entourage in a different direction.

Perhaps by changing vector, they might confuse the soul-body's instinctual pursuit.

However...

BOOM!

The massive divine soul pivoted with unexpected precision, bringing one colossal foot down directly toward Mephisto's position.

WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

Darkness descended as the enormous limb blotted out the ambient light. Mephisto's expression shifted to alarm as he executed an emergency evasive maneuver, bringing the divine essence with him.

The surrounding sorcerers scattered in all directions.

This was no longer pursuit—this was targeted attack. A single misstep would cost lives.

The fallen sorcerers found this development deeply unsettling, though they took grim comfort in the fact that Mephisto appeared to be the primary target. With sufficiently quick reactions, they could remain outside the attack radius.

Damn it all!

Mephisto, having narrowly avoided the crushing blow, cursed inwardly.

This behavior contradicted everything he had predicted. A soul-body of such magnitude should not react with such precision and speed. What natural mechanism could explain this anomaly?

Unless...

He gazed upward at the towering divine soul, a previously inconceivable hypothesis forming in his ancient mind.

Impossible!

This defied all mystical principles. How could any non-divine entity possibly control a god's soul?

"Mephisto, the divine soul has been altered," Dormammu's grave voice reached him. Without awaiting response, the cosmic entity began ascending along the Celestial's massive form, apparently seeking the source of this disturbance.

Mephisto subdued his tumultuous thoughts and followed. If they failed to identify the cause, greater numbers would only hasten their demise.

Moreover, he needed to confirm whether his outlandish theory held merit.

WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

As Mephisto ascended with the captive divine essence, the soul-body seemed to sense its consciousness's direction. An enormous hand materialized, fingers splayed wide as it attempted to capture Mephisto's position.

Drawing upon millennia of experience, Mephisto executed a series of complex evasive patterns, narrowly avoiding capture each time.

Below him, Grindelwald, Strange, and the remaining sorcerers followed his ascent. With the divine essence in Mephisto's possession, they had no choice but to follow regardless of danger. Abandoning the pursuit now would render all previous sacrifices meaningless.

Soon, Mephisto reached the divine soul's face.

Dormammu already stood positioned at the center of the divine brow, his expression solemn as he studied an amber-gold sigil manifesting there. Waves of twilight energy rippled outward from this mark, carrying a faint but unmistakable signature.

David.

Mephisto's face transformed with shock.

Against all conceivable odds, David had succeeded!

________________________________________

Who am I?

Who am I?

Sorcerer David?

Something about this name resonated with familiarity.

Is this my identity?

No... how could I be something so insignificant as an ant?

Who am I?

Who am I?

Sorcerer David?

This designation continued to evoke recognition...

Is this truly who I am?

No, this cannot be my true identity...

Who am I?

Who is...

Deep within the vast divine soul, this cyclical questioning repeated endlessly, generating turbulent waves throughout the spiritual essence.

The true spirit burned and condensed with increasing intensity.

It struggled to awaken its authentic consciousness—to recall its true self.

Such awakening typically required tremendous spiritual power accumulated over vast epochs.

Yet now, an unexpected catalyst had appeared—a complete true spirit. Though minuscule by cosmic standards, David's essence possessed wholeness and defined identity.

As it attempted integration, this foreign essence inevitably produced collision and friction, generating spiritual sparks that accelerated the awakening process.

While the enormous divine soul worked to assimilate David's essence, it simultaneously suffered contamination from the same source.

David's memories and limited perceptions held negligible significance in this cosmic exchange.

But something else accompanied his essence—something unexpected.

Traces of power belonging to the Twilight God.

This presented David with an unprecedented opportunity.

Chapter 670: The Struggle for Divinity

Who is David?

Is it me?

No.

This is definitely not who I am!

But then... who is he?

Within the vast divine soul, thoughts sparked into existence only to vanish moments later, like fireflies in the cosmic night.

The Celestial's true self struggled toward awakening, its complete essence attempting to coalesce from scattered fragments. A process that should have unfolded over millennia now accelerated chaotically toward completion.

Yet fortune proved fickle. Perhaps the acceleration exceeded sustainable limits, or perhaps the accumulated spiritual foundation remained insufficient.

Each time the consciousness approached the threshold of true awakening, it faltered.

First attempt—failure.

Second attempt—failure.

The cycle of near-awakening and collapse repeated countless times. Fortunately, the divine soul possessed such immensity and strength that it could endure these repeated failures without compromising its fundamental nature.

Who am I?

Who is David?

Who is the Twilight God?

Is that my identity?

No, I am something else entirely, I am...

BZZZZZT!

Once again, the awakening attempt collapsed.

After this latest failure, subtle transformations began manifesting within the divine consciousness. Even an entity operating purely on instinct could learn from hundreds of failed attempts.

Was it lacking soul energy?

Impossible—the vastness of its soul exceeded comprehension.

What it required was...

True spiritual power!

Yes—it needed sufficient true spiritual essence to achieve complete awakening.

Though the divine entity lacked precise conceptual understanding, instinct drove it toward wholeness with overwhelming urgency. It began pursuing the spiritual essence that rightfully belonged to it—power accumulated across countless eons.

It pursued. It yearned. It struggled toward awakening.

Primal instinct confirmed that the captured divine essence sphere was its own—belonged with it—completed it. The soul-body needed that power to become whole.

________________________________________

WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

Outside, the immense divine soul swept massive hands through the void, attempting to capture Mephisto and the imprisoned essence sphere.

Mephisto executed precise evasive maneuvers with supernatural speed. His compact size became an advantage, allowing him to avoid capture repeatedly.

Yet his expression grew increasingly strained.

He felt a mounting pressure—a cosmic weight steadily increasing around him.

This pressure affected his speed, restricted his movements, and constrained his ability to maintain control of the divine essence. Initially, he had resisted these effects with relative ease, but as time progressed, the oppressive force intensified until maintaining his freedom became a genuine struggle.

The source of this phenomenon was obvious.

The divine soul before them exerted its natural authority. They remained within the god's mental domain—its home territory where reality conformed to its expectations rather than their own.

As the soul-body's instinct and will focused on a singular objective, the surrounding space reinforced that purpose automatically.

The god's intent was profoundly simple: capture its essence and achieve wholeness.

Mephisto's escape route was equally straightforward—abandon the divine essence.

A soul operating purely on instinct would lose interest in him immediately upon reclaiming its missing fragment.

But surrender was unthinkable.

The divine essence represented the metaphorical emperor of a cosmic dynasty. Possessing this "Son of Heaven" meant controlling the key to both divine body and soul.

Its value transcended conventional expression. At minimum, properly utilizing this essence could create a divine puppet of immeasurable power. The Celestials outstripped even other cosmic entities of comparable standing.

Beyond raw power lay knowledge, resources, and divine authority of incalculable worth.

Dormammu observed Mephisto's increasingly desperate evasions with narrowed eyes, fully appreciating the essence's tremendous value.

For Dormammu, a being who had established the Dark Dimension as his foundation, control over a Celestial would grant him legitimate authority within Earth's dimension. Kamar-Taj and the Sorcerer Supreme would lose their primary justification for opposing his presence.

Yet this represented merely a fraction of the essence's potential applications. The possible uses for Celestial power would fill volumes.

Watching Mephisto dodge the soul-body's relentless attacks sparked hesitation within Dormammu.

If he intervened now, Mephisto would be vulnerable.

Yet the divine essence resembled a white-hot metal—desirable but dangerous to grasp. Mephisto's current predicament illustrated this perfectly. Initial greed had led him to claim sole control of the imprisoned essence, resulting in his present desperate circumstances.

He wished to release it, yet could not bring himself to surrender such power.

Indeed, who among them would willingly relinquish an opportunity that could fundamentally transform their destiny?

The fallen sorcerers, including Strange and Grindelwald, observed Mephisto's aerial evasions with calculated intensity.

Their unspoken consensus was clear—they would intervene to secure the divine essence, but only after Mephisto had been exhausted to his absolute limit.

WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

The cosmic pressure intensified relentlessly. Mephisto's breathing grew labored, his movements increasingly strained.

He desperately wanted to release the essence, yet no assistance came from below.

The assembled sorcerers appeared content to witness his humiliation.

Yet releasing the essence remained impossible. He felt the divine consciousness struggling violently against his restraints. The slightest relaxation of his grip would allow it to surge toward the soul-body and merge completely.

Should that occur, all would be lost.

BZZZZZT! BZZZZZT! BZZZZZT!

Apparently sensing Mephisto's weakening control, the divine essence's resistance intensified exponentially. Simultaneously, the surrounding dimensional pressures compressed with redoubled force.

Mephisto abandoned pride for pragmatism. "The divine essence resists too powerfully!" he shouted toward the observers below. "I require immediate assistance!"

The words seared his heart like acid. This admission would cost him majority control of the divine essence—he might even be completely excluded from its possession.

Hearing this capitulation, Dormammu stepped forward without hesitation. Strange and the other sorcerers likewise advanced.

"Master Mephisto," called one fallen sorcerer, "please share your method for restraining the divine essence."

Dormammu added his own urgent request, as if genuinely concerned for their collective success.

Their previous inaction served dual purposes—depleting Mephisto's strength while awaiting the necessary knowledge to control the divine essence themselves.

Mephisto, having mentally prepared for this inevitable concession, shared the mystical binding technique he had developed—though he prudently reserved certain critical elements as final leverage.

Everyone recognized this partial deception as characteristic of Mephisto's nature, yet none objected. They swiftly committed the binding method to memory, preparing to implement it.

In that crucial moment—

BOOM!

The amber-gold sigil on the divine soul's brow suddenly blazed with blinding intensity. With impossible speed, thousands of tendrils infused with twilight energy materialized and surged toward the captive divine essence.

Before anyone could react, these amber tentacles had already penetrated the divine essence sphere, voraciously devouring its power.