[Marvel's Hogwarts Professor] Chapter 651 - 655

Chapter 651: Battle Erupts

Give up?

Such words were foreign to Thor, Son of Odin. The concept had no place in the lexicon of an Asgardian prince raised on tales of glory and valor.

Ceasing his assault with Mjolnir, Thor turned to face Lockhart, his expression thunderous with barely contained rage.

"Lockhart," he intoned, voice heavy with warning, "I'll offer you one final chance." Lightning crackled around his knuckles as they tightened on Mjolnir's handle. "Leave now, and we remain friends."

His piercing blue eyes narrowed. "But if you continue to obstruct me..."

Thor left the threat unfinished, allowing its weight to hang in the air between them. Some threats were more powerful when left to the imagination.

Lockhart offered no verbal response. He merely raised his wand, its polished surface gleaming in the strange light of the cosmic beam. His eyes, cold and focused, locked with Thor's across the distance that separated them.

Click. Click. Click.

Thor's patience evaporated like morning dew under a scorching sun. He rolled his neck, producing a series of sharp cracks that echoed across the Thames. Gripping Mjolnir with renewed purpose, he summoned his birthright.

Deep navy-blue lightning erupted from the legendary hammer, arcing around Thor's muscular form in a display of raw, divine power. Unlike the bright white-blue of normal lightning, the God of Thunder's true power manifested in darker hues, ancient and primal.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Even the sorcerers on the ground below could hear the distinctive sizzle of electricity as it danced across Thor's armor and flesh. The air around him became charged, molecules ionizing and creating a visible aura of power that thrummed with barely contained energy.

Observing this escalation, Tony Stark and Ghost Rider hovered nearby, uncertain of their next move. Though their previous attacks had proven utterly ineffective against Lockhart—failing even to slow his advance—they remained airborne, poised to intervene if necessary.

Among the Avengers, only these three could engage effectively at this altitude. The Hulk, for all his strength, lacked the ability to soar into the sky unaided, and without a surface to leverage his power against, his effectiveness would be severely compromised.

"Tony, Johnny," Thor called out, his voice resonating with thunder, "descend and confront those sorcerers below. Leave Lockhart to me!"

Tony and Johnny exchanged uncertain glances. Thor sensed their hesitation.

"Your presence here will only hinder my performance," Thor added, electricity crackling around his winged helmet. "Have no concern—I am more than capable of handling Lockhart alone."

Iron Man couldn't help but detect a note of condescension in Thor's words—a subtle jab at their ineffectiveness against the wizard. It stung his pride, but Tony couldn't deny the truth of it. He had mobilized nearly every autonomous suit in his arsenal, and they might as well have been firing at shadows.

Reluctantly, Tony had to acknowledge that his current technological capabilities simply couldn't penetrate whatever dimensional manipulation Lockhart was employing. Swallowing his wounded pride, he nodded to Ghost Rider and began descending toward the embankment.

This conflict concerned Earth's very safety—a priority that transcended Tony's ego. Whatever his personal feelings, he wouldn't jeopardize the mission by insisting on fighting a battle he couldn't win.

As they descended, a thunderous roar erupted from the riverbank.

ROAR!

The Hulk arrived in a single enormous leap, landing with such force that the pavement cracked beneath his feet. The green behemoth found himself immediately surrounded by yellow-robed sorcerers from Kamar-Taj, their hands raised defensively, sling rings glinting.

Tony and Johnny touched down moments later, taking positions near the Hulk. The powerful downdraft from their landing stirred the already tense air.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

With the howl of repulsors decelerating, dozens of Iron Legion units descended in formation around them. Their weapons systems hummed to life—palm repulsors glowing with charged energy, shoulder-mounted miniature missile launchers sliding open, targeting systems locking on the assembled sorcerers.

The stage was set for a confrontation between technological might and arcane power.

"Honored Masters of Kamar-Taj," Tony addressed the sorcerers, his amplified voice projecting clearly across the space between them, "we've been allies before in defending Earth. We share the same goal now, merely differing in approach."

He gestured toward the standoff above them. "Any casualties today would be a pointless tragedy. I suggest we allow Thor and Lockhart to settle this matter between them."

In truth, Tony hoped to keep the sorcerers at bay, avoiding a full-scale battle that would inevitably result in losses on both sides. However, the tension permeating the air suggested that conflict might be inevitable regardless of his diplomatic efforts.

After Tony's statement, all eyes turned skyward to where Thor and Lockhart faced off, suspended in the air amidst the ethereal light of the cosmic beam. The momentary pause created a fragile atmosphere of potential de-escalation.

Then everything shattered.

ROAR! ROAR! ROAR!

Without warning, the Hulk's eyes flashed with an unnatural crimson light. As if suddenly enraged beyond reason or struck by some invisible force, he unleashed a series of furious howls and charged forward, massive arms swinging wildly.

Simultaneously, as though anticipating this exact moment, several sorcerers launched defensive spells that streaked toward the charging Hulk.

In the same instant, one of Tony's autonomous suits discharged its repulsor, firing a brilliant beam directly at the sorcerers.

"Shields up! Defend!" shouted Ian, Lockhart's former student, raising his wand with practiced precision.

The surrounding wizards, trained in the magical traditions of both Kamar-Taj and a more secretive magical world, responded instantly. With synchronized movements of their wands, they conjured a massive golden barrier that materialized before them like a shimmering wall.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The weapons fire from Iron Man's suits collided with the magical shield, creating a cacophony of explosions. The air filled with the screeching sounds of energy beams and the duller thuds of physical projectiles striking the mystical barrier.

The Masters of Kamar-Taj had reached their breaking point. The hypocrisy was too blatant—Tony spoke of peace while his forces opened fire? Such treachery would not stand.

With practiced movements, they activated their sling rings, summoning an arsenal of mystical weapons—metal spikes materialized from thin air, fireballs condensed from ambient heat, and blades of pure wind formed from the atmosphere itself. With coordinated gestures, they launched this magical barrage toward the Hulk, Iron Man, and their allies.

Tony observed the escalation with resignation. Though he suspected foul play—someone or something had clearly manipulated events to ensure conflict—they were past the point of diplomatic solutions. If the Avengers didn't defend themselves now, they would be overwhelmed.

"Anti-Magic Field, activate!" he commanded.

Without hesitation, several specialized units in the Iron Legion deployed the experimental technology Tony had developed based on his observations of magical energy. A subtle ripple spread through the air as the anti-magic field established itself, covering the area directly in front of the Avengers.

It had proven ineffective against Lockhart's advanced dimensional magic, but against standard sorcery? The field immediately produced results.

The Kamar-Taj masters felt their connection to mystic energies become erratic and unstable. The normally responsive magical forces grew sluggish and uncooperative, requiring several times the usual effort to manipulate. Their expressions soured as they realized the technological counter to their abilities.

Ian, Lockhart's protégé, sighed deeply at this development. He had long suspected that the Muggles—as wizards from his tradition called non-magical humans—had never truly accepted magic's place in the world. His teacher had once mentioned Stark's development of anti-magical countermeasures, and now he witnessed the proof firsthand.

Tony's earlier show of concern suddenly seemed like the most transparent deception.

"Masters, please remain calm—" Tony began, attempting one last effort at de-escalation.

He never finished the sentence.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Several Iron Legion units surrounded by the anti-magic field suddenly sparked and convulsed as if affected by an invisible force. Black smoke poured from their joints as their systems catastrophically failed. The carefully calibrated field wavered and developed gaps as its projectors failed.

"Current Disruption!" shouted a Master.

"Gravitational Entrapment!" called another.

"Banishment to the Void!" a third incanted.

The sorcerers, drawing upon battle experience accumulated over centuries, moved with perfect coordination. Their sling rings traced golden arcs through the air as they unleashed every effective spell in their arsenal against the surrounding Iron Legion units.

Having witnessed the anti-magic field's impact on their abilities, they prioritized eliminating the technology generating it. Each spell targeted the units most likely to be projecting the field, focusing overwhelming force on these critical targets.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The remaining Iron Legion units, constantly communicating with Stark Industries headquarters via satellite uplink, executed evasive maneuvers based on real-time analysis of the magical attacks. The AI controlling each unit calculated optimal escape trajectories, sacrificing several suits to preserve the majority of the force.

As magical explosions blossomed across the riverbank and technological counterattacks streaked through the air in response, it became clear that diplomacy had failed completely. With no remaining middle ground, full-scale war erupted between the technological might of the Avengers and the arcane forces of Kamar-Taj.

Above them, Thor and Lockhart prepared to engage in their own duel—a confrontation between godly power and multidimensional wizardry that would decide the fate of the Celestial embryo.

Chapter 652: Orchestrated Chaos

BOOM!

CLASH! CLASH! CLASH!

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The sky above the Thames had transformed into a hellscape of dark crimson fire. Hellfire rained down like incendiary bullets, each impact punctuated by the distinctive sound of supernatural flames consuming matter. The barrage was relentless, a constant assault against the mystical defenses below.

Standing firm against this onslaught, the sorcerers maintained a massive shield of pale golden energy. The barrier shimmered and flexed under each impact but held steady—a testament to the combined will of dozens of magic practitioners working in unison.

The Hulk, caring nothing for strategy or self-preservation, hurled himself repeatedly against this arcane wall. Each thunderous impact sent shock waves rippling through the magical barrier, yet Banner's alter ego showed no concern for the spells and explosions that scorched his verdant hide in return. His only objective was to break through, to smash as he always did.

Ghost Rider circled above, his skull wreathed in hellfire as he wielded a chain of dark red flames like a whip. The supernatural weapon extended and retracted with impossible physics, lashing out at any sorcerer who ventured too close to the perimeter.

Higher still, Iron Man's gold and crimson armor darted through the air with precision and speed. The suit's repulsors flared as Tony executed complex evasive maneuvers, while simultaneously directing the remaining Iron Legion in coordinated attack patterns.

On the ground, the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj worked with disciplined efficiency. Their hands wove intricate patterns as they alternated between sling rings and wands, casting spell after spell to counter the technological and supernatural threats arrayed against them.

At the center of this mystical defense stood Ian and Vera, Lockhart's former students who now commanded the sorcerers with the authority of field generals. Their expressions were grim as they surveyed the battlefield, issuing precise orders to maintain their tactical advantage.

"Team Five, employ restricted-movement enchantments! Target the aerial mechanized units and reduce their mobility!" Ian called out, his wand directing a squadron of sorcerers.

"Team Six, maintain constant high-impact offensive spells! Keep those suits locked down!" Vera added, her eyes tracking Iron Man's flight pattern.

"Team Three, reinforce the eastern flank of our barrier!"

"Team Eight, healing contingent to sector four immediately!"

"Team One, implement tethering spells on the Hulk! Limit his striking range!"

The stream of commands flowed continuously, transforming what might have been a chaotic defense into a coordinated military operation. The Masters of Kamar-Taj, who had initially seemed disorganized in the face of the unexpected assault, now executed their roles with machine-like precision.

This organizational efficiency concerned Tony Stark. Despite their numerical advantage and technological superiority, the Avengers were gradually losing ground. The carefully constructed algorithms he had developed to counter magical attacks were proving insufficient against such disciplined opposition.

The Hulk, normally an unstoppable force, found himself increasingly hampered by crimson energy ropes that materialized around his limbs. Though he could snap them with a flex of his massive muscles, new bindings replaced the broken ones almost instantly, creating a constant drain on his momentum and rage.

Ironically, Ghost Rider—typically the most unpredictable and difficult to control member of their group—was faring best against the mystical onslaught. The Rider's hellfire and semi-corporeal state rendered him highly resistant to conventional magical attacks. The sorcerers largely avoided direct confrontation with him, forcing Ian to dedicate multiple teams to casting wide-area spells designed merely to contain rather than harm the Spirit of Vengeance.

Even in his skeletal form, the Rider possessed a significant advantage—complete immunity to pain. Attacks that would incapacitate living combatants simply passed through him or were absorbed by his hellfire. Only the most powerful mystical assaults could slow his relentless advance.

From his command position, Ian surveyed the battlefield with growing concern. While they maintained a tactical edge, the strategic picture was becoming problematic. Their side required hundreds of sorcerers working in concert to hold off just three primary combatants.

More concerning was the mission objective: accessing the Celestial embryo's dimensional space through the light beam. Even victory in this skirmish would be meaningless if they couldn't complete their primary task. Being held at bay, regardless of their combat effectiveness, ultimately represented failure.

As Ian considered how to break this stalemate, a new development demanded his attention.

RATATAT! RATATAT! RATATAT!

From the direction of the Thames embankment, a sizable contingent of agents in black tactical gear emerged, weapons raised. They advanced in formation, firing controlled bursts at the sorcerers' position. Bullets ricocheted off magical shields or embedded themselves in hastily conjured barriers of solid energy.

Ian's expression hardened as he observed these newcomers. These Muggles—non-magical humans—were involving themselves in matters beyond their comprehension. In ordinary circumstances, he might have shown restraint, but today's stakes were too high for mercy.

"Team Two, deploy illusion and mind-manipulation spells! Target the new agents," he commanded coldly. "Redirect their aggression toward the Avengers."

The designated sorcerers immediately responded, sending waves of subtly colored magic—pale yellow, light red, and iridescent blue—washing over the advancing agents. The effect was immediate and dramatic. The tactical formation faltered, then reformed with a new objective as the agents turned their weapons toward Iron Man, Hulk, and Ghost Rider.

"JARVIS, what the hell?" Tony exclaimed as bullets pinged harmlessly against his armor. "I thought we agreed there was no point in deploying ground forces! Why is S.H.I.E.L.D. sending in agents? Contact Fury immediately and tell him to pull these people back!"

Tony's frustration was palpable. Earlier, S.H.I.E.L.D. had offered conventional military support—agents, aircraft, even missile strikes. He had categorically refused, recognizing two fundamental problems: first, standard operatives would be nothing but casualties in a mystical conflict of this magnitude; second, their opponents weren't alien invaders or terrorist cells, but the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj—allies under normal circumstances.

This wasn't a war where Tony wanted to count bodies afterward. Every death would be a permanent scar on what should be an enduring alliance.

"I apologize, Mr. Stark," JARVIS responded, "but these are not S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel. Facial recognition and tactical pattern analysis indicates these operatives belong to British MI6."

"You've got to be kidding me," Tony muttered, a headache forming behind his temples. "Why is British intelligence inserting themselves into this mess?"

The situation had become exponentially more complicated. These weren't even American agents he could order to stand down—they were foreign operatives acting on who-knew-whose authority. And now they were firing not just at the sorcerers but at the Avengers themselves, clearly affected by whatever spell had been cast.

Tony felt the impacts as bullets struck his armor. While they posed no threat to the integrity of his suit, the principle of the matter was maddening. These were supposed to be allies, and he couldn't—wouldn't—respond with lethal force against manipulated humans simply doing their jobs.

________________________________________

Along a secluded section of the Thames riverbank, far enough from the main battle to observe without being observed, four figures stood watching the chaos unfold.

David, Strange, Dormammu, and Mephisto observed the battle with varying degrees of satisfaction. The cosmic entities maintained a respectful distance from their human allies, their forms partially masked by dimensional distortion.

"David," Mephisto's silky voice carried an unmistakable note of sarcasm, "are you supporting Kamar-Taj, or merely ensuring neither side gains a decisive advantage?"

David's expression darkened at the implication, but he maintained his silence, jaw clenched tightly.

Strange, ever opportunistic, seized on the tension. "At least we've taken concrete action," he interjected with a smirk. "Two so-called cosmic powers, and all you do is watch from the sidelines? Perhaps you're not as formidable as legends suggest."

The moment the words left Strange's mouth, a flicker of murderous intent flashed across Mephisto's features. The temperature around them dropped perceptibly as the Lord of Lies considered the insect who dared speak to him with such disrespect.

This mortal had been insufferable from their first meeting—arrogant, disrespectful, constantly testing boundaries. If not for the binding covenant between their factions and the strategic necessity of their temporary alliance, Strange would have been reduced to screaming ash long ago.

As if sensing the shift in Mephisto's mood, Strange suddenly felt a creeping darkness at his back—a cold pressure that whispered of eternal torment. His instinct for self-preservation finally overrode his desire to provoke, and he fell silent, sweat beading on his forehead despite the chill.

David, noting Strange's sudden discomfort, allowed himself a small smile. Having a subordinate like Strange was reassuring in many ways—his ability to draw fire away from David being chief among them. In that moment, David understood precisely what it meant to witness someone else being humiliated in his stead.

The appreciative glance he gave Strange conveyed a silent message: Well played, though perhaps too recklessly.

Dormammu, who had maintained a dignified silence throughout this exchange, finally spoke. His voice resonated with cosmic power, even in this diminished incarnation.

"This petty bickering serves no purpose," he intoned. "Our priority must be ensuring Kamar-Taj and Asgard continue to exhaust themselves against each other, deepening their mutual enmity. Should they reconcile and turn their combined attention toward us, our position would become... problematic."

Dormammu's diplomatic intervention succeeded in defusing the tension. Both parties stepped back from the brink of conflict, recognizing the wisdom in his words.

After a moment of contemplative silence, Mephisto spoke again, his voice now calm and calculating. "More blood must be spilled," he stated matter-of-factly. "Particularly from figures of significance. With each notable casualty, the possibility of peaceful resolution diminishes exponentially."

Both Dormammu and David nodded in agreement with this cold assessment.

Then, as one, they turned their attention to the most valuable targets on the battlefield: Iron Man, whose technological genius and resources made him irreplaceable to the Avengers, and Ian and Vera, whose strategic command was the linchpin of Kamar-Taj's effective defense.

The true orchestrators of this conflict had selected their next victims.

Chapter 653: Gods and Wizards

High above the Thames, Thor Odinson, God of Thunder and Prince of Asgard, faced Lockhart across a gulf of charged air. The crimson cape at Thor's shoulders billowed dramatically despite the absence of wind, responding instead to the divine energy swirling around its bearer.

BOOM!

Thunder shook the heavens as Thor channeled his birthright. Dark blue lightning crackled around Mjolnir, ancient runes flaring along its enchanted metal as the weapon responded to its master's call. The air between the combatants became charged with ozone, reality itself warping under the pressure of godly power.

With a practiced motion born from a thousand battles across the Nine Realms, Thor hurled his legendary hammer. Mjolnir streaked toward Lockhart like a thunderbolt given form, trailing azure electricity in its wake.

Lockhart, seemingly unconcerned by the approaching divine weapon, raised his wand with elegant precision. He positioned it before his chest in a classical dueling stance, then executed a complex pattern of movements. Streams of iridescent light—colors that had no proper names in human language—flowed from the wand's tip, enveloping him in a prismatic aura.

Mjolnir passed directly through Lockhart's body as if striking a hologram, continuing its trajectory unimpeded into the distance.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

The wind howled in the hammer's wake, yet Lockhart's expression remained composed, showing neither pain nor concern. The wizard hadn't even bothered to dodge, knowing his dimensional displacement made physical attacks irrelevant.

Thor's expression darkened. This display of casual dismissal—of treating Mjolnir, the mighty Uru hammer forged in the heart of a dying star, as if it were a mere inconvenience—felt like a deliberate provocation.

The thunder god's anger swelled, and with it, the power coursing through his veins. The lightning surrounding his form darkened progressively from azure to nearly black, signaling a deeper drawing upon his godhood. The very air began to taste of destruction as Thor's full divine nature emerged.

This shift in power caused Lockhart's brow to furrow slightly. He sensed the change immediately—felt the targeting lock that Mjolnir had established and the threatening aura emanating from the darkened lightning. This was no longer a perfunctory attack; Thor was beginning to fight in earnest.

Whoosh!

Thor raised his right hand, silently commanding Mjolnir's return. The hammer, entangled in obsidian lightning, roared back toward its master from the distant horizon.

Recognizing the incoming threat, Lockhart moved with practiced efficiency. He traced a complex sigil with his wand, and precisely at the moment when Mjolnir would have reached him, a portal ringed with crimson flames materialized in its path.

The hammer shot through this dimensional doorway, instantly transported to the opposite side of the planet.

Thor's face contorted with frustration as he felt his connection to Mjolnir stretch to its limit. The weapon was now thousands of miles away, requiring precious time to return.

"Thor," Lockhart's voice carried an unsettling mixture of friendly advice and condescension, "you should reconsider this confrontation. Even without Mjolnir, you could potentially challenge me if you fully awakened your bloodline's potential." He paused, allowing the implications to sink in. "But as things stand now..."

The unfinished sentiment hung in the air between them like a silent insult. To Thor, the message was unmistakable: without your hammer, you are beneath my notice.

Without waiting for Thor's response, Lockhart flicked his wand in a sweeping motion. Dozens of shimmering, multi-colored energy ropes materialized around him, then shot toward Thor with unerring accuracy. These mystical bindings sought to entangle the thunder god—restraining his limbs, torso, and power.

In truth, Lockhart harbored no genuine ill will toward Thor. Their relationship had been cordial in the past; the thunder god had even provided Lockhart with several valuable Asgardian artifacts for his research. If possible, he preferred to neutralize rather than harm the Asgardian prince.

Thor, drawing upon centuries of combat experience, dodged with surprising agility for one of his stature. He wove between the mystical bindings, simultaneously reaching out with his godly senses to monitor Mjolnir's return journey.

Lockhart observed Thor's evasive maneuvers with clinical detachment. With a delicate tap and circular motion of his wand, he adjusted the trajectory of his spell. The colorful, dreamlike ropes abruptly changed direction, wrapping around Thor's arms and legs as if possessing a predatory intelligence.

Upon contact, the ropes infused Thor's body with oneiric energy—the power of dreams and illusions—designed to suppress and restrict the divine energy flowing through the Asgardian's form.

"Lockhart!" Thor bellowed, his pride wounded more than his body. "If you possess any courage, abandon these cowardly tactics! Face me warrior to warrior!"

Thor struggled against his mystical bonds, acutely aware that Mjolnir remained on the opposite side of the globe, still minutes away from returning to his grasp.

"Thor," Lockhart replied with infuriating calmness, "just remain quiet for now. When this is finished, Odin is your father, after all. You'll face no lasting consequences."

This dismissive comment struck Thor like a physical blow. The implication that he was merely hiding behind his father's shadow—that he was simply Odin's spoiled son rather than a warrior in his own right—ignited a fury beyond anything the magical bindings had provoked.

This patronizing attitude embodied everything Thor had struggled against for centuries: the perception that his achievements stemmed not from his own merit but from his royal lineage. To hear such sentiment from a former ally cut deeper than any blade.

Crackle! Crackle!

Thor's anger awakened something primal within him—the pure, undiluted power of the thunder god lineage that flowed through his veins since birth. His body began to glow from within, and thick arcs of dark blue lightning erupted spontaneously from his skin.

SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!

The colorful, dreamlike ropes restraining him shattered as the crackling energy spread along their length. The mystical bindings, despite their otherworldly nature, couldn't contain the raw divine power now emerging from Thor's very being.

BOOM!

Thor hovered in midair, completely engulfed in a corona of lightning that spread outward in all directions. For perhaps the first time since arriving on Earth, he truly resembled the ancient Norse depictions of the God of Thunder—a primordial force of nature barely contained within humanoid form. His eyes blazed with electric blue light as he raised his right hand skyward.

With a thunderous crack that shook the clouds themselves, Mjolnir—having traversed half the globe in response to its master's need—transformed into a streak of blue light and materialized in Thor's outstretched hand.

The legendary weapon, sensing the awakened divine essence in Thor's blood, seemed to vibrate with excitement. The runes along its surface glowed more intensely, responding to the purest expression of its master's power.

"Now," Thor's voice resonated with newfound authority, "we shall have a proper confrontation."

Before the final syllable had left his lips, Thor vanished in a flash of blue light. He reappeared instantly before Lockhart, Mjolnir already raised high above his head. Without pause, he brought the hammer down in a devastating strike.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

The speed of the attack was so great that the sound of displaced air arrived only after the hammer had completed its arc. The very atmosphere tore apart under the force of the blow.

Lockhart, sensing imminent danger, stepped backward with inhuman swiftness. His movement was so rapid that an afterimage remained briefly at his original position—a perfect duplicate that received the full force of Thor's attack.

Mjolnir passed through this phantom, finding no resistance. Thor registered the deception immediately, his battle-honed instincts telling him he had struck nothing more substantial than a magical illusion.

Reappearing several meters away, Lockhart's expression hardened. The playful detachment vanished from his features, replaced by the focused intensity of a master duelist who recognized a genuine threat.

Arcane energy surged from Lockhart's core, radiating outward as he began his counter-offensive. Prismatic light streamed from his wand in ever-widening circles—the prelude to his signature technique.

The Dream was coming.

Thor recognized the technique immediately. He had witnessed Lockhart employ this reality-warping magic in previous encounters, though never directed against him. Understanding the danger, Thor raised Mjolnir skyward and channeled his divine authority, summoning the full might of his elemental domain.

All available electrical potential in the atmosphere rushed to answer his call, condensing into a bolt of black lightning so concentrated it appeared solid. In mere seconds, Thor had gathered enough power to level a small city, the energy crackling around Mjolnir with barely contained fury.

With a decisive downward swing, Thor launched this condensed destruction directly at Lockhart's wand—the focal point of the wizard's gathering spell.

Lockhart's Dream technique was undeniably powerful, but it required time to fully manifest. Thor had interrupted the process at its most vulnerable moment.

Recognizing the immediate threat to his wand, Lockhart abandoned his initial strategy. Rather than completing the Dream Realm expansion, he inverted the technique, drawing the mystical energy inward to create a defensive shell of oneiric power around himself.

Thor pressed his advantage, channeling even more thunder through his awakened bloodline. The air around him became saturated with electric potential until, within moments, a veritable sea of lightning extended outward from his position in all directions.

This storm of divine power collided with Lockhart's dream-shell, neither force yielding to the other. Lightning and dreams—primal forces representing the oldest magics of their respective realms—locked in perfect opposition.

A stalemate emerged, the balance of power suspended in precarious equilibrium.

Thor allowed himself a grim smile of satisfaction. Even if he couldn't defeat Lockhart outright, containing the wizard's actions fulfilled his mission. As long as neither could gain the upper hand, access to the Celestial embryo remained blocked.

At that moment, a premonition struck Thor—a sense of impending calamity that transcended normal perception. His divine intuition, sharpened by centuries of warfare, warned of disaster elsewhere.

Instinctively, he glanced downward toward the battlefield below.

BOOM!

A fireball erupted on the embankment, and through the smoke and flames, Thor witnessed Iron Man's form plummeting to the ground. Tony's armor was shattered, pieces breaking away to reveal the motionless body within.

Simultaneously, not far from where Tony fell, Lockhart's student Ian collapsed in a spreading pool of crimson. Blood soaked the pavement beneath him, flowing outward in rivulets.

Both combatants—leaders of their respective factions—appeared devoid of life's breath, their bodies broken and still amid the chaos of battle.

Chapter 654: Clash of Powers

BOOM!

CLATTER! CLATTER! CLATTER!

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

Tony Stark felt the agents' bullets constantly peppering his armor. A rattling sound resonated from the surface of his suit, accompanied by faint vibrations that traveled through to his body. His expression gradually hardened as a sense of helplessness crept in.

Although these agents were attacking him because they were under the control of the sorcerers' magic, the impact they were having was considerable. Being caught without mercy was definitely not in Tony Stark's vocabulary.

"JARVIS!" Tony commanded. "Release the anesthetic mist!"

"Right away, sir," the AI responded smoothly.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

From high altitude in the distance, a golden and red streak of light flew in—one of Tony's remote-controlled supply units, shaped like a rectangular parallelepiped warehouse. The cuboid hovered in the sky above the battlefield and slowly opened with precise mechanical clicks.

A cloud of milky white anesthetic gas began to spread from the high-altitude container, cascading down onto the battlefield below. Most of the mind-controlled agents became weak after just a slight whiff, collapsing motionless on the ground.

Even the sorcerer fighting nearby caught a trace of the anesthetic gas and felt the magical power in his body gradually dissipating.

And at that moment...

WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

The air roared as powerful winds suddenly picked up.

Ian Blackwood and Vera Rosier mobilized their sorcerer team to cast wind magic, conjuring a powerful gale that blew the falling anesthetic gas away into the distance. Simultaneously, their healing specialists cast spell after spell, restoring those affected by the gas to fighting condition.

As for the anesthetized agents, the sorcerers made no move to revive them. It seemed they had reached a tacit understanding with the Avengers—neither side would use the lives of ordinary people as cannon fodder in their battle.

Tony's eyes flashed with disappointment as he realized his anesthetic gas had minimal impact on the sorcerers. They were clearly prepared with countermeasures.

"Time for Plan B," he muttered.

WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

His Iron Legion suits flew swiftly through the air, and after finding suitable positions, they quickly descended to the battlefield. The armors landed in front of the sorcerers and, under JARVIS's control, began engaging in close-quarters combat, their metal fists raised.

"Long-range attacks aren't effective," Tony thought. "Let's see how they handle direct engagement."

His attention shifted to the Hulk, who was currently restrained by multiple magical bindings, struggling violently to break free. Tony directed several of his armors to help; their forearms transformed into long vibrating blades that cut through the magical restraints with surgical precision.

With Tony's help, the Hulk quickly broke free of his magical prison.

"Banner, follow me," Tony called to the green giant. "We need to deal with their commanders directly."

The Hulk's eyes locked onto Ian and Vera in the center of the defensive formation.

ROAR!

A thunderous bellow resonated throughout the battlefield. The Hulk took wild, ground-shaking steps, swinging his massive fists as he charged toward Ian and Vera.

Tony followed closely behind, his armor's repulsors firing at maximum capacity. Under JARVIS's guidance, the surrounding Iron Legion suits attacked the sorcerers, countering their flying hexes and offensive spells with calculated precision.

When Ian and Vera spotted the Hulk barreling toward them, Ian's brows furrowed slightly, but he remained composed. These weren't just any wizards—they were trained combat sorcerers who had studied the Avengers extensively.

Ian raised his wand high, then moved it through a complex pattern with practiced efficiency. Instantly, multiple layers of shimmering golden defensive barriers materialized before the charging Hulk.

The sight of these magical obstacles only enraged Banner further. It was as if the barriers were personally challenging him. His already impressive muscles began to swell even larger, veins bulging as he raised his fists and swung with earth-shattering force.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The Hulk's fists tore through the first defensive barrier as though it were made of tissue paper. He strode forward with determined steps, breaking through barrier after barrier, each magical shield shattering under his relentless assault.

Tony couldn't help but smile beneath his helmet. The path to Ian and Vera was clearing, and for the first time since this confrontation began, he felt they might have found a way to end this battle. A surge of excitement coursed through him as he followed in the Hulk's wake.

At that moment, Ghost Rider—Johnny Blaze—moved to join them, his flaming skull a beacon in the chaos. As the Rider approached, the surrounding sorcerers unleashed various spells to obstruct his path. However, as waves of dark red hellfire rolled and swept from the Spirit of Vengeance, all magic thrown his way was swallowed up and destroyed.

The three most powerful Avengers were converging on them, and Ian and Vera's expressions grew increasingly concerned. Their delaying tactics were failing; the enemy had identified their command position and was making a concentrated effort to reach them.

Vera's eyes narrowed as she made a quick decision. She flicked her wand with precise movements, conjuring a swirling portal of flame-red energy. The aperture opened to the far side of the battlefield—she was preparing to relocate and put distance between themselves and the approaching Avengers.

But the next moment...

BZZZZT!

The portal, barely formed, began to collapse with an ominous buzzing sound. The surrounding space fluctuated chaotically, becoming increasingly unstable. A strange force was interfering with their magical transportation—apparition and portals were being blocked.

"Someone's cast an Anti-Disapparition Jinx," Vera hissed, her eyes darting around for the source.

The escape attempt seemed to trigger something in Ghost Rider. The demonic entity clenched his skeletal fists tightly and slammed them into the ground with tremendous force.

BOOM!

Dark red hellfire erupted from the impact, surging across the ground toward Ian and Vera with lightning speed. Within seconds, a massive ring of hellfire encircled the two sorcerers, closing in with each passing moment. The scorching heat struck their faces as the flames drew nearer.

The surrounding sorcerers intensified their magical assault against Iron Man, Ghost Rider, and the Hulk, trying to draw their attention away from their leaders or at least delay their advance. Spells of all colors and effects filled the air—binding hexes, stunning spells, and more complex incantations that warped the very air they passed through.

Ghost Rider, like the Hulk, remained singularly focused on Ian and Vera, ignoring the magical barrage entirely. Iron Man's defenses, though impressive, weren't impenetrable. His armor engaged various countermeasures, projecting energy shields and deploying defensive systems to resist the onslaught of spells.

Yet, like his companions, his focus remained locked on the two magical commanders.

Ian's face remained impassive as he assessed the situation. With a calculated movement, he raised his wand and channeled an immense amount of magical energy through it. The wand moved in precise, deliberate patterns that seemed to affect the surrounding hellfire, which began to pulse and waver in rhythm with his movements.

Ghost Rider's flaming skull contorted in what could only be described as alarm. He could feel the other sorcerer attempting to seize control of his hellfire. Moreover, the wizard seemed intimately familiar with hellfire's properties and behaviors.

"Damn it," Johnny thought within the Rider's consciousness. "It must be some dark knowledge Lockhart was researching."

Johnny had long harbored resentment toward Gilderoy Lockhart for his previous attempts to study and control hellfire. Now, it seemed these sorcerers had gained that knowledge.

Fortunately, the hellfire closest to Ghost Rider remained under his control, but Ian successfully managed to wrest control of a portion of the distant flames. With deft movements of his wand, Ian shaped the commandeered hellfire into a massive, serpentine dragon.

The fiery construct lunged toward Iron Man with frightening speed. Among the three Avengers, Tony was the most vulnerable to such an attack, despite his technological marvels.

Something struck Ian as strange, however. He had taken control of the hellfire with unexpected ease. It was almost as if...

"Extraordinary cooperation between technology and magic," Ian murmured, impressed despite himself.

The hellfire dragon rushed toward Iron Man with increasing velocity. Ghost Rider, seeing his power turned against his ally, exerted his spiritual energy to reclaim control of the hellfire.

Meanwhile, the Hulk took a more direct approach. With a roar, he hammered at Ian's protective shield with relentless force, attempting to simply power through the magical defenses and engage the sorcerer directly.

Neither Ian nor Vera appeared particularly concerned. The strength of their combined defensive enchantments was considerable—enough to delay even the Hulk's raw power, at least temporarily. This bought them precious seconds to focus on eliminating Tony Stark first.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

The Hulk continued to pound against the magical barrier while Tony quickly retreated, his armor releasing freezing spray to counter the advancing hellfire dragon. The stalemate seemed to hold.

But the next moment...

CLICK!

For reasons Tony couldn't immediately comprehend, his armor suddenly seized up. The Mark suit that had been retreating now froze mid-air, then abruptly changed direction, flying directly toward the hellfire dragon as if pulled by an invisible force.

"JARVIS, what's happening?" Tony shouted, fighting for control.

"Unknown magical interference, sir," the AI responded. "Systems compromised."

Simultaneously, the defensive barrier protecting Ian and Vera—which had withstood the Hulk's onslaught—suddenly shattered with a crystalline sound.

Bruce Banner, operating on pure instinct rather than strategy, saw his opportunity and lunged forward. With all his might, he delivered a devastating blow directly to Ian's chest.

In that terrible moment, two things happened almost simultaneously:

Tony Stark, his armor engulfed in hellfire, crashed to the ground with a sickening thud, his half-melted suit smoking and sparking.

And Ian, caught unprepared by the Hulk's sudden breakthrough, was hammered into the ground with bone-crushing force. Blood pooled beneath his broken body.

The battlefield fell eerily silent as both combatants lay motionless.

Vera's scream pierced the stillness. "NO!"

But it was too late. Both of them were dead.

The remaining sorcerers and Avengers stood frozen, staring at the fallen leaders, as the implications of what had just occurred began to sink in. This was no longer a battle—it had become something far worse.

Chapter 655: When Worlds Collide

"Tony!"

The Hulk—Bruce Banner beneath the green exterior—stared in horror at Ian lifeless body, then turned to see Iron Man's half-melted armor and the motionless form within. His mind struggled to process what had just occurred.

Tony Stark, though arrogant and often infuriating, had always been the backbone of the Avengers. His genius, his technology, his sheer determination—all snuffed out in an instant.

Death had never seemed so abrupt, so... final.

The Hulk looked down at his massive fist, still stained with Ian's blood, then back at the wizard's broken body. A strange, overwhelming sensation flooded through him—something beyond anger, something that even Banner's consciousness, buried beneath layers of rage, couldn't fully comprehend.

Around them, the Masters of Kamar-Taj gradually lowered their hands, their spellcasting forgotten as they stared at their fallen commander. Disbelief etched across their faces, quickly giving way to a surge of collective fury that crackled in the air like magical static.

Vera Rosier, standing mere feet away, watched the scene unfold with an expression of pure anguish. Her normally composed features contorted with grief and rage as she raised her wand with a trembling hand. The air around her thickened with the scent of ozone and something darker—the unmistakable aroma of imminent death magic.

She aimed her wand directly at the Hulk, intent on avenging Ian's death with the most terrible curse in her considerable arsenal.

However, before she could unleash her vengeance...

A kaleidoscope of multicolored light flashed brilliantly, and Gilderoy Lockhart apparated beside Ian's body. No longer the fraud who had once taught at Hogwarts, this Lockhart moved with the confidence and power of a true master sorcerer, his eyes cold and calculating as they swept over the battlefield.

Simultaneously, Thor materialized next to Tony's mutilated form, his normally jovial face hardened into a mask of granite. Mjölnir hummed ominously in his hand, lightning dancing subtly across its surface.

The battlefield fell silent.

All eyes focused on Lockhart and Thor, awaiting their reaction to this devastating turn of events. Vera held her spell in check, her magic building to dangerous levels as she waited for her mentor's command.

Lockhart and Thor stood in perfect stillness beside the bodies of their fallen comrades. No words were exchanged between them, but their expressions conveyed volumes. The temperature of the battlefield seemed to drop several degrees under their cold gazes.

This was the first true casualty of their conflict—ignoring the mind-controlled Muggle agents who had been little more than pawns. But this... this was different. Two leaders, two linchpins of their respective forces, had fallen simultaneously.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Without preamble or hesitation, Lockhart's eyes hardened to ice as he slashed his wand through the air. The Killing Curse—unblockable, unforgivable—erupted from his wand tip. A jet of sickly green light, carrying the unmistakable aura of death itself, streaked toward Thor with frightening speed.

Lockhart's decisive action seemed to break Vera from her trance.

"Avada Kedavra!" she echoed, her voice breaking with emotion as she directed her own Death Curse toward the Hulk.

The atmosphere shifted instantly. What had been a battle of restraint transformed into a desperate fight for survival. The rules of engagement had been shattered alongside the fallen leaders.

CRACK!

Sensing the approaching death magic, Thor reacted with godlike reflexes. Mjölnir spun in his hand, gathering an electrical charge so intense that the air around him ionized. His cape billowed as thunder magic erupted from his entire body.

WHOOSH!

Without hesitation, the God of Thunder swung his enchanted hammer directly into the path of the oncoming Killing Curse.

BOOM!

CRACKLE!

The collision created a shockwave that rippled outward across the battlefield. Mjölnir met the green jet of death magic in a catastrophic display of conflicting energies.

Though Thor's blow carried the strength of Asgard behind it, Lockhart's curse was no ordinary magic. The two forces locked in a stalemate, neither yielding to the other. Thor channeled more lightning power from the depths of his being, pouring it into Mjölnir, while Lockhart fed a continuous stream of dark magic into his spell.

The energy at the point of contact boiled and expanded, creating a swirling vortex of blue lightning and venomous green death magic.

WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

The collision generated gale-force winds that whipped across the battlefield. The atmospheric pressure fluctuated wildly, making it difficult for everyone present to breathe, magical or not.

Meanwhile, Vera's Killing Curse sped toward the Hulk with lethal intent, fueled by her grief for Ian.

Johnny Blaze—the Ghost Rider—had been anticipating such an attack. Chains of dark red hellfire materialized from nowhere, intercepting the green death magic before it could reach Banner. The Spirit of Vengeance had moved to protect his teammate, recognizing that Vera's power, while formidable, couldn't match Lockhart's centuries of accumulated magical knowledge.

The battlefield settled into another uneasy stalemate.

The Hulk, stimulated by the chaos and the near-death experience, roared as his eyes flashed with an unnatural crimson light. Taking advantage of the momentary equilibrium between opposing forces, he charged toward the nearby Masters of Kamar-Taj.

These sorcerers, however, were far from helpless. Ian's death had ignited a collective rage within their ranks, and seeing his killer barreling toward them, they responded with lethal intent.

Intricate patterns formed in the air as their hands traced ancient sigils. Sling rings sparked with golden energy as they conjured their most devastating offensive spells.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

A barrage of magical projectiles—some resembling molten metal, others like crystallized light—slammed into the Hulk's massive frame. Each impact created a concussive burst that would have obliterated ordinary beings.

The Hulk's skin sizzled and smoked where the magic struck, causing him genuine pain despite his near-invulnerability.

ROAR!

The green behemoth bellowed in agony and escalating fury. His muscles swelled further, veins bulging beneath his skin as his body responded to the damage by growing even stronger. His already imposing stature increased by several feet, and a palpable pressure emanated from him, causing even the disciplined sorcerers to falter momentarily.

"Restrict his movements!" shouted Wong, one of the senior Masters. "Our offensive spells can't penetrate his hide—we need to contain him!"

The sorcerers adjusted their tactics with practiced coordination. Their spellcasting shifted from direct damage to environmental manipulation.

The ground beneath the Hulk liquefied instantly, transforming into a viscous magical quagmire that reached up past his knees. Simultaneously, massive golems of earth and stone erupted from the ground around him, their crude arms wrapping around his torso and limbs.

Masters from the Hong Kong Sanctum conjured glowing crimson restraints that resembled molten glass, which flew toward the Hulk's extremities—targeting his wrists, ankles, and neck.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Caught by surprise, the Hulk found himself partially immobilized by the sudden transformation of the ground. He swung his massive fists wildly, pulverizing the stone golems into rubble and snapping the magical restraints. Each blow to the enchanted swamp sent shockwaves through the earth, creating fissures that extended dozens of yards in every direction.

The Hulk appeared to grow stronger with each passing second, his rage amplifying his already impossible strength to new heights. One Hulk now commanded the destructive potential of ten.

Meanwhile, the standoff between Lockhart and Thor reached its crescendo. Thor's lightning—the pure power of the storm that vanquishes darkness—battled against the corrupting influence of the Death Curse. Neither force could overcome the other as both combatants channeled more power into their attacks.

The point of contact between Mjölnir and the Killing Curse expanded into an enormous sphere of conflicting energies—a swirling maelstrom of electric blue and poisonous green that crackled with unstable power.

Then, in a move that surprised everyone present...

BOOM!

Lockhart suddenly changed tactics. With a complex gesture of his wand and a surge of mental force, he seized control of the volatile energy sphere. Instead of continuing the direct confrontation with Thor, he redirected the combined might of their powers—sending the deadly orb hurtling toward the towering pillar of light that had appeared during the battle.

The speed was breathtaking. In less than a heartbeat, the sphere—containing both Lockhart's death magic and Thor's divine lightning—collided with the enigmatic column of energy.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

A deafening explosion rocked the battlefield as three distinct powers converged: Lockhart's Death Curse, Thor's Asgardian thunder, and the mysterious energy beam emanating from what Lockhart had identified as a "god embryo."

The resulting shockwave was catastrophic. Enormous waves of pure magical force radiated outward from the light pillar, sweeping across the battlefield like an invisible tsunami. Everyone—Ghost Rider, sorcerers, even Thor and Lockhart themselves—was tossed through the air like leaves in a hurricane.

Above the Thames River, as the energy beam shattered under the impact, a new phenomenon manifested. A swirling vortex of pure white light appeared in the sky—a rotating wormhole that pulsed with otherworldly power.

The passage to the god embryo had opened.

And with it, the true battle was about to begin.