[Marvel's Hogwarts Professor] Chapter 646 - 650

Chapter 646: The Eternals Interrogation

The dim lights of the interrogation room cast long shadows across the faces of those present. Strange stood with his back straight.

"These two," Strange gestured with a sweep of his hand, "are the team leaders guarding the Celestial embryo. This is Ms. Thena."

Strange performed the introductions to Dormammu and Mephisto, whose otherworldly presences seemed to darken the room further. The air crackled with mystical energy as the two cosmic entities assessed the white-haired Eternal before them.

"We need to access the space where the Celestial embryo is located," Strange continued, his voice steady and measured. "Ms. Thena's assistance is essential for this endeavor."

Dormammu, his flaming visage shifting in perpetual motion, looked down at the white-haired woman. Despite being in a weakened incarnation, his voice still resonated with ancient power.

"I'm curious," he said, the flames around his head flickering with each word, "as to why an Eternal would choose to cooperate with you." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "We should be careful about being deceived."

"I have complete faith in Ms. Thena's intentions," Strange replied firmly, straightening his already impeccable posture. "I hope we can all display more confidence in each other's commitment to our cause." He adjusted the sleeve of his robe before continuing. "After all, our upcoming collaboration requires everyone's concerted efforts."

Strange's direct response seemed to ease some of the tension in Thena's shoulders, her expression returning to its usual stoic demeanor.

"Strange," Thena said, her voice as smooth and cold as ice, "I need to know when my companions can be released." Her piercing blue eyes bore into his. "And I need to solve my control problem as soon as possible. My condition is deteriorating rapidly."

She ran a hand through her stark white hair, a rare sign of nervousness from the usually composed Eternal.

"If Arishem discovers my compromised state, I fear I will be... recycled."

Despite discussing her potential demise, Thena's tone remained eerily calm, devoid of fear or desperation. The implication was clear—if they would help, she would continue; if not, she would accept her fate.

"Of course, Ms. Thena," Strange assured her, a hint of genuine concern crossing his features. "You are our partner. Your problems are our problems."

He then gestured toward the two imposing figures flanking him. "These two are our allies. You may have heard their names before—Mephisto, the Demon King of Hell, and Dormammu, the God of Darkness."

At this revelation, Thena's eyebrows arched upward, a flash of genuine surprise breaking through her typically expressionless face. She studied the faces of the two entities with newfound suspicion, taking in Mephisto's calculating crimson eyes and the swirling vortex of energy that constituted Dormammu's form.

"With these two taking action," Strange continued, "we can bypass the Celestials' surveillance with minimal risk of detection." He stepped closer to Thena, his cape swaying gently behind him. "And as promised earlier, we will help you neutralize the Celestials' control mechanisms embedded in your body, returning you to complete autonomy."

Strange said all this openly in front of Dormammu and Mephisto, making no attempt to conceal their arrangement. It was a calculated move—after all, who would trust Mephisto, renowned for his cunning and cruelty, or Dormammu, the devourer of worlds?

The unspoken message was clear: Cooperate with the fallen sorcerer, and her team members might be rescued. Align with these cosmic malevolences, and she might be consumed herself.

Mephisto and Dormammu clearly understood the subtext but merely regarded the Eternal with thinly veiled interest, saying nothing. The demon lord's lips curled into the faintest of smiles, revealing teeth unnaturally sharp for his otherwise human appearance.

To be honest, when the fallen sorcerer first claimed to have access to the Celestial embryo's location, Mephisto had been skeptical. However, when they presented an actual Eternal as evidence, both cosmic entities had quickly agreed to David and Strange's conditions.

They had suffered significant defeats recently. Even their true forms couldn't manifest on Earth—only weakened incarnations could cross over. This made it difficult to claim such cosmic prizes directly.

Now, presented with an opportunity to obtain a Celestial embryo, neither was willing to walk away. Both had sustained serious injuries and were in various stages of recovery. Few things in this universe would accelerate their healing better than the power of a nascent Celestial—truly a cosmic rarity.

As for their contract, the parties had engaged in intense negotiations, eventually establishing an alliance of convenience. Death itself had witnessed their pact, ensuring its reliability.

"Ms. Thena," Mephisto said, his velvet voice belying his dangerous nature, "since we're all working together now, there are some things I'd like to confirm." He adjusted the lapel of his immaculate suit. "I rarely interact with Celestials, but I'm aware that creation is their specialty."

His red eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Are you the only guards they've stationed on Earth? Are there other sentinels? Would they report our energy signatures to the Celestials?"

Mephisto wasn't eager for a confrontation with the Celestials—avoidance would be preferable if possible.

Thena considered his questions carefully, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the table's surface. "On Earth's surface, I can confirm that only a few of us are responsible for the guard duty," she said thoughtfully. "But within the space containing what you call the 'Celestial embryo'..."

She paused, choosing her words with precision. "Whether defensive forces exist there is unknown to me. But highly probable." Her eyes darkened as she continued, "I've entered once before. Although I didn't encounter anyone, I sensed clearly that any deeper understanding would bring catastrophic consequences."

A mocking smile played across her lips. "Besides, I don't know who has blocked off the entire Earth. Even if other Celestial agents exist, they currently cannot leave the planet to relay information."

This revelation caused Dormammu to straighten, pieces falling into place in his cosmic mind. He finally understood why he had sensed all three major temples of Kamar-Taj operating at full capacity when he first arrived on Earth. He had assumed some major event was unfolding, but now it became clear—Kamar-Taj was actively suppressing the flow of information off-planet.

"Very well," Mephisto said after a moment of contemplation. "We'll maintain contact. Leave the rest to us." Despite his agreement, curiosity lingered in his expression.

He had been dealing with Gu Yi for countless years, yet had never pegged her as someone radical enough to target all gods for elimination. Perhaps what he had heard from Thor, Asgard's God of Thunder, was false. Or perhaps, the inevitable hostility between their kinds had finally reached its breaking point.

________________________________________

Meanwhile, in the Bamboo Forest Tea Room of Kamar-Taj, Gu Yi stood before a window, gazing at the distant mountains shrouded in mist. Her eyes held confusion mingled with steely determination, lost in contemplation for who knows how long.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke her reverie.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Lockhart, you've arrived," the Ancient One said, turning to face the familiar features of Lockhart.

The future of the sorcerers lies with a visitor from another world.

Was this truly reliable? Sometimes she doubted, contemplating whether to follow the original path instead. Yet something in her heart resisted, unwilling to accept what she knew would come.

After thousands of years at Kamar-Taj, she had witnessed countless generations of sorcerers rise and fall. The weight of this endless cycle had become almost unbearable.

Her time was running short; eternity called to her. As the Supreme Sorcerer, she needed to secure Kamar-Taj's future. But should she choose the predetermined trajectory or forge a new path? The upcoming test would decide.

"Supreme Sorcerer," Lockhart said with a formal bow, "we've communicated with all divisions of Kamar-Taj. Once the Celestial embryo's location is confirmed, all Masters stand ready to eliminate future threats."

Gu nodded silently, her eyes distant.

"However, Supreme Sorcerer, there's one more thing to report," Lockhart continued, his brow furrowed with concern. "We have confirmed that both Mephisto and Dormammu are involved in this matter. I suspect they might—"

The Ancient One raised her hand, interrupting him mid-sentence.

"Lockhart," she said, her voice soft yet commanding, "what happens next is in your hands." Her eyes held a knowing look that transcended time itself. "As long as Odin, Dormammu, and Mephisto haven't arrived yet, I will not intervene."

The weight of her words hung in the air between them, heavy with portent for what was to come.

Chapter 647: Awakening

"Wake up!"

"Wake up, Icarus!"

Through the haze of unconsciousness, Icarus heard a familiar voice calling to him. The sound penetrated the darkness of his mind like rays of sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

His consciousness gradually returned. With effort, he shook his head slightly and pried open his heavy eyelids. The world came into focus slowly, revealing the familiar face of a white-haired woman leaning over him, concern evident in her ancient eyes.

"Thena..."

His voice rasped from his throat, dry and cracked as if he hadn't spoken in ages. The words felt foreign on his tongue.

"Thena, what's wrong?"

The fog in his mind began to clear. The Eternals were created to be resilient, after all, and Icarus quickly regained his composure. The memories of his last conscious moments returned with startling clarity.

Yes, he had been captured by those sorcerers. He had fought them with everything he had, channeling cosmic energy through his entire being to resist their magical restraints. His last memory was of gray mist enveloping him as his consciousness slipped away.

Now, finally awake, Icarus glanced around warily, assessing his surroundings with the practiced eye of a warrior who had lived for millennia.

They were in a confined space—an interrogation room by the looks of it. A simple table with four chairs occupied the center. Various instruments that could only be described as tools for torture hung from the dark gray walls. Even from where he sat, Icarus could see dark red bloodstains marring the stone surface, silent testimonies to past interrogations.

He could feel magical energy surrounding him, dampening his powers. His entire body felt weak, his connection to the cosmic energy that sustained him muted and distant.

Despite his weakened state, his concern immediately turned to his companions.

"Thena, how are the others doing now?" Icarus asked, his voice deepening with suspicion as he noticed Thena's immaculate appearance. Her clothes were clean and orderly, her appearance too well-maintained for someone who should be a prisoner.

"Don't worry, they are all fine," Thena replied after a brief hesitation. "These sorcerers need us and will not harm us."

"You've cooperated with them." What should have been a question came out as an accusation, followed immediately by more urgent inquiries. "Thena, we both know these sorcerers are after the Celestial embryo. What have you done?" His voice rose with each word. "Do you understand what you're doing?"

His golden eyes flashed with anger as he continued, "You're committing treason—betraying your duty, your mission, the great Celestials!" He leaned forward, his face contorted with disbelief. "Do you no longer wish to return home? To see your people again?"

Icarus's words were laden with shock, accusation, and unbridled rage.

"I know," Thena responded with unnerving calm, her voice steady as stone. "But these are all lies!"

"What?" Icarus recoiled as if struck, unable to comprehend her words.

"Everything the Celestials have told us is a lie," Thena repeated, her eyes reflecting a painful certainty.

"What are you saying?" Icarus's face was a portrait of astonishment and denial. "You've been brainwashed by these sorcerers!"

Thena shook her head slowly, her white hair catching the dim light of the room. "Everything the Celestials have told us is a lie," she reiterated, each word precise and measured.

"We have no homeland!"

"We have no people!"

"All we have is what's right in front of us!"

Seeing Icarus's stunned expression, she continued, her voice softening slightly. "I know you doubt me. But everything I'm telling you is the truth." She placed her hand on the table between them, fingers spread as if offering evidence. "Why do you think I've been losing control? Why have I been attacking indiscriminately, even targeting my own teammates?"

Her eyes bore into his with unflinching intensity. "It's because I've recovered memories the Celestials erased from my mind."

Each word fell from Thena's lips with the weight of cosmic truth. "We are nothing but constructs created by the Celestials to protect their embryos. We don't know how many lifetimes we've served this purpose. Whether our mission succeeds or fails, we are eventually recalled."

She gave a bitter smile. "They motivate us with the promise of returning home. The reality? They reset us, erase our memories, and assign us to the next guardianship."

Thena's expression remained unnervingly blank as she delivered these revelations. "Icarus, everything I'm telling you is the truth. If you think about it carefully, you'll see the inconsistencies yourself. Just consider how many detailed memories of your homeland you can actually recall. Are those memories truly coherent? Think, Icarus. Examine them closely."

Following Thena's prompting, Icarus delved into his memories of home. He pictured it in his mind: beautiful skies adorned with wispy clouds, fields of vibrant flowers, vast rolling grasslands, pristine lakes reflecting the light of a perfect sun...

The people there were unfailingly friendly. His friends were invariably kind and supportive. His father was strong and principled, his mother beautiful and graceful. Both parents held respected positions in their community...

The recollections were indeed beautiful—perhaps too beautiful. There was an artificial quality to their perfection, a hint of fabrication that he had previously dismissed whenever doubts arose.

Now, prompted by Thena to examine these memories critically, Icarus felt the foundations of his identity begin to crumble. His face paled, and he forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Thena, you're joking, right?" His voice wavered between hope and dread. "Yes, you must be joking! How could my parents be false? How could my friends be mere illusions?"

Thena remained silent, affording Icarus the space to process this shattering revelation. His initial agitation gradually subsided, his loud denials fading to muttered protests, and finally to a profound silence that spoke volumes.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly in that quiet room.

"Thena," Icarus finally spoke, his voice devoid of emotion, "what do you intend to do now?"

"As I mentioned, I've negotiated an alliance with these sorcerers," Thena explained calmly. "They seek access to the space containing the Celestial embryo. I can request permission from the Celestials and bring them inside."

"Thena, we're talking about Celestials!" Icarus interrupted, alarm evident in his voice. "If they discover our betrayal, we'll all be recycled." His use of the euphemism indicated his acceptance of their grim reality.

After thousands of years on Earth, he had witnessed and experienced enough to understand the precariousness of their situation.

"I know," Thena assured him. "Don't worry. I wouldn't have agreed to this cooperation without ensuring our safety."

She then changed the subject, her tone becoming more urgent. "Icarus, Ajak, Gilgamesh, and the others are all conscious now. Moving forward, none of us can survive without the others. Working together is our only chance of keeping everyone safe."

After a moment of heavy silence, Icarus uttered a single word, heavy with resignation and resolve.

"Good."

________________________________________

Meanwhile, aboard the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier, the Avengers and Nick Fury had gathered in the conference room. The atmosphere was charged with tension as they discussed their ongoing situation.

"Tony, have you gotten any results from your spatial anomaly detection system?" Captain America asked, his shield propped against his chair.

"Not yet," Tony Stark replied, frustration evident in his voice as he manipulated holographic data displays with quick gestures. "We're drowning in data, but it's all inconclusive!"

"What about divination magic?" Natasha Romanoff inquired, looking toward the corner where a consultant from Kamar-Taj sat cross-legged, eyes closed in concentration.

The conference room buzzed with anxious energy, everyone on edge as they pursued their respective tasks.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Thor strode in, Mjolnir clenched tightly in his fist. His cape billowed behind him as he surveyed the room with obvious impatience.

"Have you found anything?" the God of Thunder demanded, his voice booming throughout the space. "How much longer will this take? Where are we in the search?"

His questions were met with uncomfortable silence. The tension in the room thickened as the Avengers exchanged glances, none eager to deliver disappointing news to the increasingly agitated Asgardian.

Finally, Nick Fury stepped forward, his one eye fixed steadily on Thor. "Thor, you need to be patient," he said, his tone firm but reassuring. "We're utilizing every resource at our disposal. Tony has gathered extensive data that we're still analyzing—"

Fury's explanation clearly didn't satisfy Thor, whose expression darkened with each word. He had initially partnered with S.H.I.E.L.D. because of their global influence and resources. The lack of progress was testing his already limited patience.

S.H.I.E.L.D., are you truly this ineffective? Thor thought, his grip on Mjolnir tightening as he prepared to voice his displeasure.

Before he could speak, however, the entire Helicarrier shuddered violently.

BOOM!

An enormous energy surge suddenly erupted, setting off alarms throughout the vessel. The conference room's lights flickered as the power systems struggled to compensate for the unexpected energy spike.

Every head turned toward the source of the disturbance, the argument forgotten in the face of this new development.

Chapter 648: The Signal

Egypt, the Great Pyramid of Khufu.

The merciless sun blazed down upon the golden sands, seeming to ignite each individual grain into tiny flames that shimmered across the vast desert. Heat rose in visible waves from the ancient landscape, distorting the horizon into a mirage of liquid gold.

High above, vultures traced lazy circles against the cloudless azure sky, their piercing cries echoing across the desolate expanse. The pyramid stood as a solitary sentinel amidst endless sand dunes that rippled like a golden ocean frozen in time. In the distance, a caravan of camels appeared as mere specks, slowly traversing the harsh terrain.

The Great Pyramid of Khufu—the largest pyramid in Egypt and the oldest surviving wonder of the ancient world—had withstood the passage of four millennia. Its immense size and architectural precision remained awe-inspiring even in the modern age, earning its place among the Seven Wonders of the World.

With such prestige, the pyramids typically swarmed with tourists from across the globe, millions visiting annually to marvel at humanity's ancient achievement. Today, however, despite the perfect weather, the area surrounding the colossal structure was eerily deserted.

Not entirely deserted, though. Several figures had appeared at the main entrance of the pyramid, but they were far from typical tourists. They wore neither the white robes nor turbans one might expect in this region. Instead, they were dressed in tailored suits, elaborate sorcerer robes, and even metal armor that gleamed blindingly in the sunlight. The desert heat seemed to affect them not at all.

They were an unlikely alliance—fallen sorcerers, cosmic entities of terrible power, and the ageless guardians known as the Eternals.

Strange stood before the Great Pyramid, craning his neck to take in its full magnitude. The massive limestone blocks, once smooth and white, had been polished to a warm yellow hue by centuries of wind and sand, exuding an atmosphere of ancient wisdom and endurance.

"Thena," Strange said with a hint of complaint in his voice, "I never would have guessed the signal transmitter was built in Egypt." He adjusted his cloak, which billowed slightly despite the absence of wind. The journey from London had been taxing, even with his magical abilities to ease the transition between such dramatically different environments.

"Egypt was a paradise when we arrived," Circe, one of the Eternals, remarked with unmistakable nostalgia. Her voice carried the weight of millennia. "Despite the heat, water was plentiful. Green grass carpeted the land, and trees heavy with fruit stood everywhere. It truly was Eden on Earth."

Her gaze swept across the barren landscape. "Time spares nothing. What was once paradise is now an endless sea of sand."

Thena's revelations about their true nature had transformed the demeanor of all the Eternals, Circe included. Where once there had been unwavering purpose, now there was only the bitter awareness of their manipulation.

"We never actually planned to build a signal transmitter here," Thena continued, her white hair gleaming in the sunlight. "Phastos was merely alleviating his boredom. The Egyptians interpreted his creation as divine, and built the pyramids to honor what they did not understand."

She shook her head slightly. "If we didn't need a way off Earth, it would be simpler to return to our ship and request extraction directly."

Mephisto, standing to the side with shadows dancing unnaturally around his immaculate shoes despite the harsh sunlight, smiled thinly at this exchange. "Fascinating as this history lesson is," he said, his voice smooth as silk yet carrying an undercurrent of impatience, "we've reached our destination. It's time to contact the Celestials." His crimson eyes gleamed. "You can reminisce about ancient Egypt to your heart's content afterward."

Following this pointed reminder, the conversation ceased. Thena took the lead, walking directly into the dark entrance of Khufu's Pyramid.

Thanks to their advance preparations—magical barriers keeping tourists and authorities away—the ancient mechanisms within the pyramid continued to function. Torches burned steadily along the walls, illuminating the otherwise pitch-black interior with flickering amber light.

The interior of the pyramid revealed itself as a complex network of passages—a labyrinth designed to confuse tomb raiders and protect the pharaoh's final resting place. Some corridors were lit by ancient torches, others by modern electric fixtures designed to resemble their primitive counterparts. The cool air inside provided welcome relief from the desert heat.

Phastos, his dark skin reflecting the torchlight, led the group with confident steps through the maze-like structure. His memory of the construction remained perfect after thousands of years.

After navigating a series of increasingly narrow passages, they reached a concealed door that Phastos activated with a touch. The hidden entrance swung open silently, revealing the heart of the pyramid: the Pharaoh's burial chamber.

Boom!

The marble-like door opened slowly, revealing an ornate sarcophagus at the center of the chamber. The surrounding walls bore intricate hieroglyphics and vivid paintings depicting the pharaoh's legendary exploits and journey to the afterlife—artistic masterpieces that had survived the ravages of time.

None of the visitors spared these treasures more than a passing glance. Their purpose lay deeper still.

Phastos approached the side of the sarcophagus, crouching down to place his palm against the stone floor. His eyes closed in concentration.

"The pharaohs never understood what I had built," he explained, his fingers tracing patterns invisible to the others. "They interpreted the signal transmitter as divine intervention, a manifestation of their gods' power. The ruler at that time constructed this enormous pyramid around my creation, making it the centerpiece of his tomb."

As he spoke, Phastos seemed to locate what he sought. He raised his palm upward in a swift motion, and the stone slabs beneath them began to rise, floating in midair under the control of his immense mental powers.

Within moments, a hidden tunnel appeared before them, descending into darkness beneath the burial chamber.

"This is the signal transmitter I built millennia ago," Phastos said, his voice tinged with complicated emotions. "It was created as a diversion from boredom. I never imagined it would serve a genuine purpose."

Without hesitation, he strode into the tunnel. The Eternals followed closely, with Strange, Dormammu, and Mephisto close behind.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Their footsteps echoed heavily on the ancient stairs as they descended deeper beneath the pyramid. Strange raised his hand with an elegant gesture, conjuring several softly glowing orbs of light that drifted around the group, illuminating their path.

The stairway opened into a vast chamber dominated by a massive altar. At its center stood an enormous machine—clearly not of ancient Egyptian design, but something far more advanced, its technology beyond even modern human capability. The device had succumbed to time, covered in a thick layer of dark yellow rust, yet its alien nature remained unmistakable.

No one seemed concerned by its deteriorated state. Circe stepped forward confidently, her slender fingers reaching out to touch the corroded surface of the machine.

The moment of contact triggered a remarkable transformation—like drops of ink dispersing in clear water, the rust began to disappear at a visible rate. The corrosion receded from where her fingers touched, spreading outward in concentric circles until, within minutes, the signal amplifier gleamed as if newly forged. No one would have guessed it had lain dormant for thousands of years.

Circe possessed the power to transmute matter—sand into water, stone into gold. With sufficient energy and concentration, she could transform virtually anything. Removing rust from ancient metal was trivial compared to her true capabilities.

Thena now moved forward, pausing to glance significantly at Strange, Mephisto, and Dormammu before speaking.

"I need to verify something first," she said, her voice echoing in the chamber. "I'm about to signal the Celestials. If all goes according to plan, they'll grant me access to the space containing the Celestial embryo." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "However, it's highly probable they're monitoring Earth. This will alert them to your presence and intentions."

Her gaze hardened. "No one will escape their scrutiny. You've assured me you can shield yourselves from the Celestials' sight?"

"Don't concern yourself with that," Mephisto replied without hesitation, his confident smile revealing teeth too sharp to be human. "Focus on your task, and leave the rest to us."

What did it matter if the Celestials discovered them? If they couldn't be captured, the knowledge would be meaningless. Besides, the Supreme Sorcerer would draw their attention first—a convenient distraction.

Satisfied with this assurance, Thena positioned herself at the center of the machine without further delay. She closed her eyes and began the process of contacting the Celestials.

BOOM!

The ancient device activated with a thunderous sound that reverberated throughout the chamber. The pyramid itself seemed to tremble as the machine powered up, emitting a mysterious energy frequency that shot upward, through the pyramid's layers of stone, and deep into the cosmos.

The signal pulsed outward, calling across the vast gulfs of space to beings of unimaginable power and purpose.

What—or who—was it summoning?

Chapter 649: Cosmic Response

In the vast and ethereal void of space, massive energy particles invisible to mortal eyes drifted in seemingly random patterns, pulsing with the heartbeat of the cosmos itself. This was the natural state of the infinite void—a dance of primordial forces punctuated by occasional bursts of energy that flared like distant lightning.

Through this cosmic tapestry, a mysterious energy beam cut a precise path. More than mere light, it carried information—intelligence—as it hurtled through the vacuum in a series of spatial jumps. In one instant it was there, in the next, gone, leaving no trace of its passage.

Following this enigmatic signal as it traversed the universe, one's gaze would eventually settle upon an extraordinarily peculiar galaxy. Unlike any cosmic formation known to human astronomy, this collection of celestial bodies defied conventional physics.

A multitude of planets orbited within this realm—blue, crimson, emerald, and countless hues between—resembling a carefully arranged collection of precious gems scattered across black velvet. Most remarkable was that every planet, regardless of its distance from the central star, teemed with life. Each world pulsed with vitality, moving along trajectories that appeared chaotic yet followed some incomprehensible pattern.

This was no ordinary star system but the domain of the Celestials—cosmic architects older than time itself. Each planet represented a territory within their vast empire, each life form a creation of their unfathomable design.

The mysterious signal paused momentarily upon entering this sacred realm, as if awaiting recognition or permission. Then, in a flash imperceptible to human senses, it leaped directly into the heart of the central sun—the nexus of Celestial power.

"Eternals Team 43829, member Thena, requesting authorization for routine exploration of the Celestial embryo containment space. One thousand four hundred years have elapsed since previous inspection."

The signal carried this information directly into the sun's core, where consciousnesses beyond mortal comprehension received and processed it.

Almost instantaneously, a responding signal emerged from the solar mass, racing back toward its origin point: Earth.

Its message was simple: "Request approved. Temporary access granted."

________________________________________

London, the River Thames.

BOOM!

A massive column of energy crashed down upon the Thames like the fist of an angry god. The impact sent water surging outward in all directions, creating a tsunami-like wave that swept along both banks of the historic river.

Pedestrians near the shore were fortunate if they merely received a drenching before being knocked to the ground by the tremendous force of the displaced water. Those less fortunate—those who had been on the river itself or too close to its edges—met a more terrible fate.

The instant the light beam made contact with the water's surface, the entire Thames began to boil violently. Boats that had been peacefully navigating the river only moments before disintegrated into ash. Anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the water didn't even have time to scream before their bodies vaporized completely.

Witnesses on the riverbanks reacted with predictable terror. Some stood frozen in shock, staring at the pillar of light with expressions of primal fear etched across their faces. Others fled in panic, their instincts correctly informing them that something beyond human comprehension was occurring.

Simultaneously with the light column's descent, a powerful wave of energy radiated outward from the impact point, spreading across the globe at incredible speed. Within less than a minute, every organization on Earth with the capability to detect such anomalies—from S.H.I.E.L.D. to the FBI's paranormal division—had registered the disturbance.

The energy signature was unmistakable and impossible to ignore—so conspicuous it seemed almost deliberately designed to attract attention.

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

Three minutes after the initial event, the air around the Thames began to shimmer and distort. A series of circular portals ringed with orange-gold sparks opened in sequence, revealing the distinctive gateways of the mystic arts.

Yellow-robed sorcerers from Kamar-Taj emerged in disciplined formation. The moment they set foot on mundane soil, they moved with practiced precision, each raising their sling rings in perfect synchronization. Light barriers of golden energy materialized at their command, expanding rapidly to contain the cosmic phenomenon.

Click! Click! Click!

The barriers joined together with an audible sound, forming a dome of protective magic around the pillar of light. However, the energy beam continued to pulse with increasing intensity, constantly testing the strength of the mystical containment.

The sorcerers frowned in concentration as they maintained their spells, beads of sweat forming on their foreheads despite the cool London air. They could hold the energy at bay for now, but as time passed and the cosmic power accumulated, their defenses would inevitably fail. When that happened, the consequences would be catastrophic.

Yet despite the strain, the masters of Kamar-Taj did not appear overly concerned. Above them, spreading across the sky like spilled ink, a delicate web of darkness began to form.

Lockhart hovered in midair, his wand extended before him, directing the black veil toward the imprisoned column of light. His robes billowed around him not from any earthly wind but from the sheer magical energy he commanded.

As the dark gauze enveloped the golden containment field, the blinding radiance of the light pillar immediately dimmed. More significantly, the tremendous energy fluctuations began to diminish—not merely contained, but actively being absorbed by the black veil.

Lockhart's expression revealed surprise at this development. The sorcerers had initially sought only to block the energy, but when that proved insufficient, he had attempted to absorb it instead. What he hadn't anticipated was the nature of the energy itself.

As it flowed into the dark veil, Lockhart could sense something extraordinary—a rich, vibrant essence that could only be described as the breath of life itself. This revelation confirmed his suspicions.

The Celestials.

The ability to create and nurture life was the hallmark of these ancient cosmic entities. The energy signature was unmistakable. Lockhart's gaze intensified as he focused on the base of the light pillar where it made contact with the now-boiling Thames.

"Lockhart, I'm giving you one chance!" a powerful voice boomed across the sky. "Leave this place."

Thor descended from above, Mjolnir gripped tightly in his fist, electricity crackling around his form. The God of Thunder positioned himself directly between Lockhart and the light pillar, his cape billowing dramatically behind him.

Iron Man's repulsors flared as he took position beside Thor, the advanced armor gleaming even in the diminished light. Ghost Rider completed the trio, his skull wreathed in supernatural flames as he regarded Lockhart with empty eye sockets that somehow managed to convey menace.

Other Avengers appeared alongside them, a unified front against Kamar-Taj's intervention.

Lockhart stared at the assembled heroes, and for a brief, absurd moment, felt an urge to laugh. How strange that in this scenario, he found himself cast as the villain—he, who had dedicated his life to protecting the world from mystical threats. The irony wasn't lost on him.

Suppressing his inappropriate amusement, Lockhart responded with nothing more than a slight shake of his head. Retreat was impossible. He had his principles, and when it came to matters of cosmic importance, sentimentality had no place.

Thor's face hardened at this silent refusal. Without further warning, he swung Mjolnir forward, directing its power toward the black veil.

BOOM!

The impact shattered a section of the mystical barrier, allowing a surge of cosmic energy to escape in a blinding flash.

Iron Man hovered closer, his faceplate retracting to reveal Tony Stark's earnest expression. "Lockhart, we all understand what's at stake here," he said, his voice carrying genuine concern. "We need time. Earth needs time. Why is Kamar-Taj acting with such urgency?" His eyes searched Lockhart's face. "At least give us a reason."

It was clear that Tony preferred to avoid conflict if possible, but circumstances were rapidly eliminating peaceful options.

"Tony," Lockhart replied, his voice steady, "I've told you all I can. This is Kamar-Taj's sacred duty."

Tony's face hardened at this non-answer, his faceplate snapping back into place. The time for words had passed.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Following a series of high-pitched sounds, streaks of red light shot from Iron Man's armor, converging into multiple smaller drones that quickly surrounded Lockhart in a tactical formation. The Stark technology hummed with precision targeting systems.

Simultaneously, Ghost Rider extended his arms, and an invisible wave of spiritual energy radiated outward—the Penance Stare's precursor, creating a field that inhibited demonic and supernatural forces.

The flaming skeleton fixed its hollow gaze on Lockhart. Despite past encounters that had been almost cordial, including the time Lockhart had harvested seeds of hellfire for study, the Spirit of Vengeance would not hesitate to carry out its purpose.

Faced with this coordinated attack, Lockhart remained remarkably composed. He simply raised his right hand, wand extended with elegant precision. The tip began to glow with concentrated magical energy as he prepared his counterspell.

The next moment, magic erupted from the confrontation—

BOOM!

Chapter 650: Untouchable

"JARVIS, strengthen defenses! Now!"

The moment Tony Stark saw Lockhart raise his wand, he barked the command from within his armor. Instantly, the surrounding Iron Legion drones responded, their surfaces shimmering as they generated an extraordinary energy barrier. The energy moved at frequencies beyond human perception, creating an invisible shield detectable only through specialized instruments or enhanced senses.

This wasn't merely defensive—Tony had designed the frequency modulators to create a synchronized circuit among the drones. If successful, they would not only absorb magical attacks but potentially reflect them back at their caster.

While JARVIS implemented these countermeasures, Tony remained vigilant. His experiences with the Masters of Kamar-Taj had taught him that most sorcerers relied heavily on their relics—particularly their sling rings and, in Lockhart's case, his wand. Without these focal instruments, their casting efficiency dropped dramatically.

Taking advantage of this knowledge, Tony's repulsor began to glow with gathering energy. With lightning speed, he fired directly at the wand in Lockhart's hand, aiming to disarm rather than harm.

However...

Bzzt!

The instant before the repulsor beam discharged, Lockhart's form—including the wand in his hand—shimmered with an iridescent light. His outline blurred slightly, as though reality itself couldn't quite decide where he was supposed to be.

The brilliant white energy of Tony's repulsor passed straight through Lockhart's wand as if it were nothing but a hologram, meeting no resistance whatsoever. The beam continued on its trajectory, disappearing into the distance over the Thames.

Lockhart's expression remained unchanged, not even a flicker of concern crossing his features. When the energy dissipated, the wand in his hand remained perfectly intact.

"Mr. Stark," JARVIS's voice spoke in Tony's ear, "the target has disappeared."

"Warning: target location cannot be established."

"Unable to acquire targeting lock."

Tony frowned beneath his faceplate. "What do you mean, 'disappeared'? He's standing right in front of us, surrounded by the Legion."

"Run a complete system diagnostic," he ordered, concern growing.

"Self-diagnostic in progress..." JARVIS responded. After a brief pause: "Diagnostic complete. All systems operating within normal parameters."

"I apologize, Mr. Stark, but we still cannot detect the target's position."

Tony stared at Lockhart, who hadn't moved an inch and was actually smiling now—a composed, almost pitying smile that made Tony's teeth clench.

"JARVIS," Tony said through gritted teeth, "scan directly in front of me, thirty-six degrees north by west, approximately fifty meters out. What do your sensors detect?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. According to all sensors, that space is empty."

Tony's mind raced. Had JARVIS been compromised? Was this some new form of magic they'd never encountered? He turned slightly toward Ghost Rider, who stood beside him wreathed in hellfire.

"Johnny, can you see Lockhart?" he asked, keeping his voice level.

Ghost Rider turned his flaming skull toward Tony, confusion evident despite his lack of facial features. "He's right there in front of us," Johnny replied, sounding perplexed. "Do you need my help?"

"No, I've got this," Tony replied curtly, his pride flaring. If there was a problem to solve, especially one involving a former friend like Lockhart, he preferred to handle it personally.

"JARVIS, switch to manual targeting and prepare for saturation attack."

"Understood, sir."

This transition would take precious seconds—time during which Tony expected Lockhart to capitalize with an offensive spell. Yet strangely, the wizard made no move to attack. Apart from the shimmering, prismatic light flowing across his body like liquid crystal, Lockhart remained motionless.

Even more infuriating, he continued to smile at Tony—a knowing expression that suggested he was merely humoring them.

Damn it!

"Increase attack intensity to maximum non-lethal levels," Tony commanded, his patience evaporating.

BOOM!

On his command, the Iron Legion unleashed a coordinated barrage. Dozens of repulsor beams converged on Lockhart's position, creating a blinding flash of white light and a concussive blast that rippled across the Thames. Ghost Rider instinctively raised an arm to shield his face from the heat that radiated from the point of impact.

When the light faded and the smoke cleared, Lockhart stood exactly where he had been, completely unharmed. Not a single hair was out of place, his robes unmarked by the assault.

"Tony," Lockhart said, his voice carrying a hint of genuine regret, "you should stop now. The level of technology you currently possess cannot affect me."

The truth dawned on Tony then. While his eyes perceived Lockhart standing before him, the wizard wasn't actually occupying the same dimensional plane. Lockhart had somehow shifted slightly out of phase with normal reality, his body infused with what wizards called "oneiric energy"—the power of dreams and illusions. This explained why JARVIS's sensors couldn't detect him; they were scanning a reality Lockhart wasn't fully present in.

Tony opened his mouth to respond, but Ghost Rider stepped forward, his hellfire blazing more intensely as his patience expired.

"Lockhart," Johnny growled, his voice carrying the echo of countless damned souls, "let's see how you handle hellfire!"

Lockhart merely glanced at Johnny, his expression cooling noticeably. Without deigning to respond, he simply began walking forward, passing through the Iron Legion's formation as if they weren't there.

Tony noted the change in Lockhart's demeanor with interest. The wizard clearly regarded him differently—perhaps out of respect for Tony's scientific genius or their past friendship. Ghost Rider, however, seemed to warrant only indifference. Tony recalled that Lockhart had extensively studied hellfire in the past, even harvesting some for what he claimed was "academic research." The wizard had later provided samples to that terrorist who called himself Voldemort—a fact that still troubled Tony.

Moreover, Johnny and Lockhart barely knew each other, having met only a handful of times during previous interdimensional incidents. Their lack of personal connection gave Lockhart little reason to engage.

As Lockhart calmly walked through the encirclement, Ghost Rider's hellfire erupted more violently, responding to Johnny's growing rage at being so blatantly dismissed.

BOOM!

With a roar that was more demonic than human, Ghost Rider launched himself skyward, then descended like a meteor. His fist, wrapped in the infernal flames of hell itself, plummeted toward Lockhart with force enough to shatter concrete.

Johnny intended to subject the wizard to the Penance Stare—to force him to experience all the pain he had ever inflicted on others in a single, soul-shattering moment.

Whoosh!

Ghost Rider's fist passed through Lockhart's form as if striking smoke. The momentum carried Johnny's entire body through the illusory wizard and sent him tumbling forward, a victim of his own unmet force.

Lockhart continued walking, unperturbed. He was effectively invulnerable—existing partly in another dimension where physical attacks couldn't reach him. He could have retaliated at any moment, yet he held back, perhaps out of some lingering respect for past alliances.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Disbelieving and enraged, Ghost Rider spun around and attacked again, calling upon more hellfire to fuel his assault. Once more, his attacks proved futile—passing through Lockhart's form without resistance, like shadows trying to strike light.

After passing beyond the Iron Legion's perimeter, Lockhart paused and turned back to face them.

"Tony, Johnny," he said with surprising gentleness, "please withdraw for now. When this matter is resolved, I promise to explain everything in detail."

Not waiting for their response, he turned away and focused his attention on Thor, who was still attempting to breach the energy beam with Mjolnir, trying to prevent anyone from accessing the Celestial embryo's space.

Lockhart's body flared with prismatic light once more, and he stepped forward—only to instantly reappear on the opposite side of Thor, having traversed the distance in a single heartbeat.

Tony and Ghost Rider fell silent, the fight leaving them as they witnessed Lockhart's casual display of power. It was suddenly, painfully clear that the wizard had been toying with them, holding back out of some misplaced sense of courtesy.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Meanwhile, Thor continued his assault on the black veil that Lockhart had created earlier. With each mighty swing of Mjolnir, sections of the magical barrier shattered, releasing surges of cosmic energy. The God of Thunder seemed determined to destroy the light beam entirely, preventing access to the Celestial embryo's dimension altogether.

This would fulfill Odin's directive through alternative means—preserving the Celestial embryo by ensuring no one could reach it—while avoiding direct conflict with forces that might plunge Earth into unnecessary war.

Yet despite Thor's godly might and the legendary power of Mjolnir, his attacks proved ultimately ineffective. Each breach in the barrier sealed itself almost instantly, the magic regenerating faster than Thor could destroy it.

"Thor," Lockhart called out, his voice carrying easily over the din of battle, "you should cease this pointless struggle. Kamar-Taj has already secured the dimensional boundaries to the Celestial embryo's realm. Your efforts, noble as they may be, cannot prevail against our combined mystical power."