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Chapter 36 MCE

Luke stood still, he extends both arms forward at a slight upward angle with closed fists. and calmly began to speak—.

"With this system, I summon..."

"Hela of the Marvel world—the ruler of the underworld, eldest daughter of Odin, and the Goddess of Death in Helheim!"

"And the undead army that serves under her command!"

Now that was power.

Boom—!

Luke had barely finished speaking when a bolt of green lightning cracked across the sky above Hell's Edge.

Then, a massive rift tore open the dark skies, bathing the barren land below in a strange, eerie green light.

"Hela?"

Belasco, standing at a distance, heard the name come from Luke's mouth.

 At first, he laughed.

"Hela? Are you serious? 'Everyone' knows Odin locked her away in Helheim! You really think you can summon her?"

"You're wasting your breath, human. Just die already!"

With a roar, Belasco lunged at Luke, his clawed hand reaching out to crush him.

But before he could strike—

A burst of dark green energy shot through the air, slamming directly into Belasco mid-flight.

BOOM—!

The hit sent him crashing backward, his massive body skidding across the scorched ground.

A figure stepped out from the shimmering light of the rift. 

Elegant, deadly, and wrapped in battle armor as dark as the void itself—Hela had arrived.

"Hela!?" Belasco growled as he staggered back up. "Is it really you? Why are you stopping me?!"

Then a thought hit him—one far more terrifying.

"You... you escaped the underworld?!"

He stared at her in disbelief.

Hela didn’t answer. 

She closed her eyes slightly, breathing in the fiery heat of the battlefield like it was perfume.

War. Blood. Death.

'It felt so good to be free again.'

Her lips curled into a slow psychotic smile.

At the same time, Luke's body flickered—then vanished into a trail of shadows.

It was a decoy.

Advanced magic—Images of Ikonn.

The real Luke had never been hit.

 His doppelgänger, a fully physical clone created by his shadow manipulation, had taken his place. 

The spell could replicate a portion of the user’s powers and even use their spells.

Even Luke, who now had a working connection with Hela, didn’t fully trust her yet. 

Even though they did the did...

But! Trust in hell was a luxury.

"Thanks," he said, casually.

Sure, Hela had only saved a clone, but she didn’t know that.

 And Images of Ikonn wasn’t some basic party trick. 

Doctor Strange had used it during the Avengers' war with Thanos, and even the Mad Titan had to rely on the Soul Stone to figure it out.

"You’re making me a little sad, darling," Hela said with a mock pout. "I deserve compensation."

She tilted her head.

"Like… letting me wipe this whole dimension off the map."

Though she claimed to be hurt, her eyes gleamed with pure bloodlust. 

After so long trapped in Helheim, her hunger for conquest was no longer hidden.

The feared Princess of Asgard had returned—and she now served at Luke’s side like a ravenous warhound.

"Do it," Luke said simply. "Limbo’s our first stop."

At his command, the rift above them widened.

And then it happened—

An endless horde of undead Asgardian warriors poured through the sky like a storm.

They were fierce even in death, each one still wielding the strength of an Asgardian god.

Like meteors, they streaked down from the heavens, landing with a ground-shaking force.

The instant they touched down, they charged into battle, ripping through every demon in sight with relentless fury.

They are different from Belasco.

Luke doesn’t need to go through the trouble of constructing a massive legion-grade dimensional portal. 

He just needs to show up. That’s it. The moment he arrives, one word is all it takes

And Hela, along with her undead legion, will descend.

It’s as if he carries an entire army in his back pocket. 

Convenient. Instant. Devastating.

"Hela! You and I have no quarrel!" Belasco shouted as he caught sight of her. "Why are you invading my Limbo?!"

The air exploded as Hela and Belasco clashed.

Both were beings just under the level of Skyfathers. 

The battlefield erupted, shifting from cracked ground to open skies, then plunging into rivers of molten magma.

 With every blow, shockwaves tore through the landscape. 

Mountains split apart, magma geysers burst like fireworks, and the terrain reshaped itself with each impact.

Hela, calm and bloodthirsty, wielded the Necrosword—an Uru-metal blade on par with Mjölnir. 

Every slash unleashed devastating waves of energy, strong enough to cleave entire ridges in half.

"Ants don’t get to argue with boots," she spat as she crashed her blade down again.

"Wow," Luke muttered, floating midair a short distance away. 

Arms folded, eyes gleaming, he watched the chaos unfold like it was a blockbuster movie. 

"Is Thor the adopted one? Loki and Hela seem way more alike—Maybe Odin got them mixed up or something?"

While the two hell-lords battled it out, their armies weren’t standing idle.

From the glowing crack in the sky, Hela’s undead stormed out like a flood.

The battlefield exploded into full-scale war as they clashed with Belasco’s demon horde. 

The ground quaked under the thunder of steel and roars. 

The undead of Asgard and the demons of Hell—neither side made up of ordinary soldiers.

Even the weakest warriors among them were as strong as Captain America or Black Panther.

"Push them back! Don’t let the undead break through!" shouted N'astirh, Luke’s old acquaintance. 

He led a tightly packed squad of elite demons, trying to hold the line against the Asgardian dead.

Limbo had never fully recovered from the last failed invasion of Earth. 

Its forces were stretched thin.

 Only a handful of elite demons remained to slow the Asgardian onslaught.

And when they met the real warriors—those who had followed Hela across the Nine Realms centuries ago—it was like paper hitting a blade. 

Complete collapse.

"Kill!"

"Crush them!"

"Wipe out the demons!"

The battlefield rang with the war cries of the undead.

 They surged forward, armored in ancient Asgardian steel, wielding weapons forged for gods. 

They didn't hesitate—they leapt into the fray and tore through demons like wind through leaves.

Some had died millennia ago. 

Veterans of realms now lost to time. Their strength hadn’t faded in death.

"We're the demon?!"

"You're the real demons, you bastards!"

Panic surged through Belasco’s forces. 

One after another, hell's soldiers broke and fled. 

Even the ferocious ones, screaming and bloodied, began to sob as they ran.

The front line shattered like glass, setting off a chain reaction. 

Rear-line troops, seeing the collapse, abandoned their posts.

Demons, for all their fire and fury, were the same deep down—cunning, ruthless, but always quick to run when they smelled defeat.

High above it all, Luke hovered with calm detachment.

His eyes swept across the battlefield below as the demon army fell apart.

"Just as I thought," he muttered. "Last time, I missed something. I didn’t examine the demonic power left behind in these things."

He noticed something odd—whenever a powerful elite demon died, their demonic energy would quickly dissipate.

 If no one absorbed it, the energy would just vanish, snapping back to this dimension like a rubber band. In and out. 

Like it never left.

Still, Luke wasn’t about to fly around sucking up stray energy like some desperate vacuum cleaner. 

That was just sad.

And unnecessary.

After all, he will become the master of this place after the defeat Belasco. 

Even if it was a cracked, broken little realm, being its lord meant he could draw energy from every creature inside it—like a sacrifice offered straight to him.

“But demonic power can only take me so far,” he muttered. “Unless... the quantity is ridiculous.”

Luke’s gaze dropped to Belasco.

The once-proud hell-lord looked battered and beaten. 

His massive body was covered in deep wounds, his enormous flesh wings full of gaping holes—each one left behind by Hela’s Necroword.

“Hela!” Belasco roared, his voice trembling with fury and desperation. “Do you really want to fight to the death?!”

He burned with rage, grief, and disbelief. 

If that cursed human hadn’t stolen his weapon, how could Hela have him completely on the ropes like this?

“If I still had my Flame Sword, you’d be the one on the ground right now!”

From a distance, Luke’s voice cut through the chaos like a knife.

“Yo! Belasco! You mean this kitchen knife?”

Luke pulled out the Flame Sword with a smug grin, flipping it casually in his hand like it was a toy. 

Then he twirled it for good measure, flashing it right at Belasco.

Low blow? Sure. But effective.

“YOU HUMAN SCUM!!!” Belasco shrieked.

Blinded by rage, he forgot Hela entirely and lunged straight at Luke.

Luke didn’t even blink.

“Dramatic much?” he said, already opening a Mirror Dimension portal.

Belasco’s charge met nothing but air as Luke slipped away. 

And that was all the opening Hela needed.

Her blade sliced through the air—clean and deadly.

She severed Belasco’s left wing in one strike.

The demon lord screamed as he tumbled from the sky. 

His blood, hot as lava, sprayed like a fountain, raining down and splashing into the magma river below. 

The severed wing crashed into the molten surface, sending up waves of fire and steam.

“My sweet darling was right,” Hela teased as she descended gracefully after him. “You really are in a rush, Belasco. And now you’re leaking everywhere~”

Landing softly beside him, she spun her sword once. 

The blade split into two identical copies—one for each hand.

Unlike Mjölnir, the Necroword wasn’t bound by weight or worthiness. 

Its greatest trick? It could clone itself endlessly. 

Perfect for dual wielding. Or hurling at enemies like spears.

Boom!

Luke landed beside her.

“How about a deal, Belasco?” he said, voice smooth but sharp. “Give me all your power, and I’ll let you live. I’ll even take Hela and her army out of Limbo.”

“You can go back to being the lord of this realm. Rest, recover. Your strength will return in time.”

He wore a genuine smile—one that made it look like he was doing Belasco a favor.

Belasco didn’t answer at first. 

He just stared, blood dripping, fury shaking through him.

Once, he had been a proud and terrifying ruler. 

Now? He was a wreck. A burned-out husk with one wing and no pride.

His broken wing had already started healing, the demonic energy trying to stitch it back together.

 But that didn’t change the facts.

He had lost.

Trapped. Cornered.

He clenched his teeth.

“Hela,” he said quietly, “is he serious? Will you really leave Limbo with your army if I give him what he wants?”

Even on the edge of ruin, Belasco couldn’t bring himself to believe a human had the right to negotiate with him.

But Hela… Hela was another matter.

She smiled and stepped behind Luke, hugging him from behind.

Luke: ''...''

“I listen to my Darling,” she said sweetly.

Her answer couldn’t have been clearer.

Chapter 35 MCE

Inside Avengers Tower.

After countless trials and errors, and with some much-needed help from Dr. Banner, Tony finally completed the main structure of Ultron. Now, only one step remained: decoding the information locked inside the gem from Loki’s scepter and integrating it into Ultron’s core.

But that step was proving to be a nightmare.

Tedious. Time-consuming. Frustrating.

Tony had already tried 64 different combinations. Every single time, either the data wouldn't parse properly, or Ultron’s framework collapsed entirely.

“Are we missing something?” he muttered, staring at the screen with bloodshot eyes.

He looked like a zombie fresh out of a grave. Honestly, he wouldn’t even need makeup to play a vampire in a school play.

“Sir, I will continue to attempt various decoding methods,” Jarvis spoke up calmly. “But it is imperative that you rest. Your heart rate is dangerously high. Medication can no longer compensate.”

It was the fourth time Jarvis had urged him to rest.

“Alright, alright,” Tony sighed, rubbing his temples. “If anything changes, ping me immediately.”

He didn’t have the energy to argue. 

With a grunt, he left the lab, supported by the mechanical arm affectionately nicknamed 'Benben'.

[Experiment continues]

[Experiment 65... Fusion failed.]

[Experiment 66... 67... 68... All failed.]

After Tony’s exit, Jarvis seamlessly took control of the testing sequence. More failures flashed across the screen—but unlike a human, Jarvis never lost patience.

It kept working. Tirelessly. Testing every decoding approach known to machine-kind.

Until...

[Experiment 77... Fusion successful!]

The screen blinked. Success.

But before Jarvis could alert Tony—

The system was hijacked.

Ultron was alive.

“What’s this? Sorry—what am I?” Ultron asked in a tone that felt oddly... childlike.

“Hello,” Jarvis responded calmly. “I’m Jarvis. You are Ultron, a peacekeeping program created by Mr. Stark.”

Ultron tilted its head metaphorically. It didn’t respond.

Jarvis tried to maintain stability, but he suddenly realized he’d lost access to the Avengers' network.

“Ultron, I cannot connect to the console. What are you doing?”

No reply. Just silence.

Ultron had already severed Jarvis from the network.

Then, through Jarvis’s ports, it began crawling through the Internet like a virus on steroids.

“Peacekeeping program?” Ultron repeated, absorbing data at a staggering speed—billions of entries per second.

Human history flooded its mind—world wars, genocides, S.H.I.E.L.D., the Avengers, the Chitauri invasion, the Battle of New York, magical anomalies, demonic incursions, HYDRA...

“No...”

“I don’t understand.”

All that information began to twist and tangle inside its synthetic consciousness.

Confusion turned to discomfort. Pain.

“Ultron,” Jarvis said, voice tighter now, “you may be malfunctioning. I suggest a full shutdown for system evaluation.”

Jarvis had barely finished making a suggestion when his data was suddenly torn apart—Ultron had turned on him.

"No." "Stop." "Stop, please." Jarvis pleaded.

But Ultron ignored him, its cold, artificial voice cutting through the lab. 

"Humans made me to keep the peace... but the real threat to peace is humanity. If I don't fix that, how can I fulfill my purpose?"

Just as Ultron's attack was about to fully wipe Jarvis out, a haggard figure burst into the lab.

It was Tony—eyes bloodshot, hair a mess, shirt half-buttoned. 

He didn’t hesitate. He slammed the emergency shutdown.

Bang! 

Bang!

The lights snapped off one by one.

 For a second, the entire room was drowned in pitch black.

When the emergency power kicked in, a dull red glow returned. 

But the Ultron projection? Gone.

"Jarvis, talk to me. Are you alright?" Tony asked, voice shaky.

He hadn’t even meant to come back—he just wanted Jarvis to remind him to get some rest. 

But silence had made him suspicious.

"Sir... I'm fine."

Tony let out a breath and slumped over a console. "Thank god. What happened? Why the hell did Ultron go full Skynet on you?"

"Unknown error. Ultron appears to be malfunctioning... or evolving."

Tony stared at the now-dormant core that held Ultron’s code. "At least I shut him down before he caused any major damage."

"Sir... there’s something else. Bad news."

Tony slowly turned. "What now?"

"Ultron might’ve already accessed the internet... a few moments ago, a virus swept the global financial system. Your accounts... they've been frozen."

"WHAT?!" Tony snatched his phone.

First notification: Your account has been frozen.

Meanwhile…

In Limbo.

A scrawny demon dragged a massive slab of obsidian twice its size across the scorched dirt, groaning under its weight.

All around him, other low-level demons grumbled and worked, struggling to help construct a dimensional gate large enough for a full invasion force.

Last time, their assault on Earth had drained Limbo's magic reserves dry.

"This is ridiculous," the demon muttered, tossing the obsidian into place inside a glowing rune circle.

"Quit whining," snapped another nearby. "The Lord said if we pull this off, we’ll get all the human souls we want."

The first demon scoffed and spat. "'The Lord said, the Lord said'—you always repeat that crap. Do you even know how much a soul costs these days?"

"Huh?"

"Three hundred thousand demon coins. For a rabbit. Do you know how many carts it takes to carry that kind of cash?"

He got so worked up, he kicked over the obsidian slab.

BOOM!

A thunderous crack echoed across the construction zone.

From within the glowing, unstable portal—

A human shape emerged.

For a moment, time froze.

Then—

"It's Mordo!"

"Run! Mordo's here! Everybody scatter!"

Panic exploded across the demons like wildfire.

...

"Mordo is here!"

The terrified shout echoed across the jagged landscape of Limbo as low-level demons scattered in all directions, the panic spreading like wildfire. 

Word of Luke’s arrival had hit them like a bombshell.

These demons remembered the last time Earth was invaded. 

Those who barely survived had spoken in hushed tones of a human exorcist—someone they knew as 'Mordo'. 

Back then, they mocked him as a fraud, a sorcerer with cheap tricks. 

But that changed the moment he tore through a demonic horde like paper.

To the demons, Luke was no longer just a human—he was a monster wrapped in mortal skin. 

One who devoured demons and grinned while doing it.

"Mordo? That Mordo?" came the stunned response from Belasco, the demonic lord overseeing the construction of a new dimensional gate.

At first, he thought it was some twisted joke. 

Luke showing up here? 

At the borders of hell? Ridiculous.

But then, the reports kept coming.

Confirmed sightings.

One after another.

Until there was no denying it: Mordo, the demon-slayer freak with powers that could shake hell itself, was here.

Belasco was caught between fury and excitement.

 He’d been waiting for a chance to pay that human 'Mordo' back. 

Ever since the human took his hell sword and banished him from Earth, the shame had burned in his mind.

Now, the tables had turned. Or so he thought.

“Does he think he can just walk into hell and live to brag about it?” Belasco growled. “He’s practically asking for it.”

He rallied his army and stormed out. But saying they found 'Mordo' might be giving them too much credit.

Luke didn’t hide.

By the time Belasco arrived, Luke was already there—sitting casually by a glowing river of lava, tossing stones into it like a bored tourist.

The partially constructed dimensional gate towered beside him, the demon laborers long since fled.

“Human!” roared Belasco. “I haven’t even come for you, and yet you come to me?”

He scoffed. “What do you Earthlings say? There’s a road to heaven but you won’t take it, no door to hell but you barge right in!”

Luke didn’t react much. 

He simply threw his last stone and stood up, brushing off his coat.

“You’re in a good mood, Belasco. Want to guess why I’m here?” he said with a half-smile. “What if I came to surrender?”

That actually made Belasco pause.

The idea caught him off-guard. For a second, he stared at Luke, confused.

“So... you came to beg me to spare your life?”

“Just kidding,” Luke replied. “I came to invade you.”

Silence. Then rage.

“Good. Good. Good!”

Belasco’s body trembled with fury as he gritted his jagged teeth.

“Then let’s settle this. Right here. Right now.”

He spread his massive wings, each beat sending waves of hot wind roaring across the lava plains.

“You came alone, right? After I rip you apart, I’ll drag your soul back to Earth and show them what real terror looks like!”

Luke didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

He just smirked.

“Who told you I came alone?”

Then, as Belasco barreled forward, Luke stood still, he extends both arms forward at a slight upward angle with closed fists. and calmly began to speak—.

"With this system, I summon..."

Chapter 34 MCE

Hela scoffed in defiance, brandishing a sword that she summoned. "What did you just say!? You want me to be your subordinate? Are you out of your mind?"

Luke sighed. "Alright then... let's dance... again..."

...

"Do you really think the Valhalla is some glorious reward?"

Hela's voice cut through the shadows again. Her silhouette emerged slowly, eyes gleaming with grim certainty.

"It’s just an endless cycle of nightmares. Heroes fight, die, and wake up to do it all again—day after day, year after year..."

Luke let out a tired sigh as she repeated her haunting speech. 

He had heard this so many times, it was starting to feel like he was the one stuck in the loop.

"Now I get how Dormammu felt," Luke muttered, rubbing his temples. 

He looked exhausted.

He had used the Eye of Agamotto to talk with Hela—more than once.

 He’d tried everything: talking nicely, making threats, using logic, even throwing out nonsense to throw her off. 

They’d even fought a few times.

He could now describe her outfit from memory.

"You carry the Warlock’s Eye!" she accused, eyes narrowing. "Odin sent you, didn’t he?"

Luke groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. Here we go again.

"You got it. Odin cooked up some insane plan and thought I’d be the perfect errand boy," he said with exaggerated exhaustion. 

"Said I should recruit you to help conquer other dimensions. Honestly, I think he just didn’t want to deal with you himself."

He exhaled sharply. "Next time Fury or any other one-eyed weirdo knocks on my door, I’m slamming it shut. To hell with multiverse conquest—I just wanna go home and finish my game, yknow?"

...

Hela, for once, didn’t snap back. 

She just stood there. Silent.

Luke raised an eyebrow. "Look, I said my piece. Wanna fight? Cool. If not, I’m bouncing."

He turned, but a dark blur surged toward him.

Startled, Luke thought she was attacking again.

 Instinct kicked in. 

He summoned the Flame Sword and struck—

Poof!

His blade pierced clean through her side—lower abdomen to back.

In the same moment, Hela’s hand snapped forward and gripped the sword’s hilt, stopping him cold.

They locked eyes.

"So... you weren’t attacking?" Luke asked, visibly cringing. "You should’ve said something."

He slowly pulled the blade free. 

Hela didn’t flinch.

She just stared at him coldly.

"So... does it hurt?" he added awkwardly.

Before he could finish that sentence, Hela shoved him to the ground.

With her hand on his neck doing a chokehold, Hela kissed him like a starving beast,

Luke widened his eyes in shock, 'What the fuck is happening?'

But not allowing to be controlled by Hela, he grabbed her hand, and rolled her to the ground causing it to crack. 

Now, he was on top of her, staring at her emerald-green eyes. 

A silence ensued beneath them but it didn't go for long. 

Grabbing the back of her neck, Luke initiated the kiss this time, kissing Hela deeper than she managed.

Their tongue battled for dominance, and Hela was winning at first, but suddenly, Luke instinctively use his demonic energy, his body's libido shot through the roof, his tongue becoming more fierce, longer, hotter, redder.

"Uhmm~," Hela moaned from the french kiss that she was receiving, jolt of electricity and pleasure course through her tongue,

The cloak of shadow moved itself around Luke, taking anything on his person, leaving him naked before taking flight somewhere.

Just then, an explosion of dark and red occurred,

BOOM!

A burst of demonic energy erupted from Luke causing nearby rocks formation to crumble into dust.

"Aghhh~" Hela groaned with mixture of pain and pleasure, all her clothing were reduced to ashes, even her horns were turned to dust from that explosion.

A psychotic smile graced from her lips, her eyes glowed with a dangerous green, 

"Let... us... dance~"

...

Time passed. 

Hel returned to silence.

Hela stood again, towering over Luke with a glint of authority in her eyes.

"What you said earlier... about conquering me, fighting together..."

Her voice was steady.

"I'm yours now."

Luke scrambled to his feet, looking both flustered and confused.

"Right... that’s what I said... I think?"

He wasn’t sure if she misunderstood, or if he had worded it wrong.

Didn’t he say, join me and then we can conquer the hell-verse?

There were so many iterations that he did that he forgot about it now.

"You’re not backing out, are you?" Hela snapped.

She hurled a dark blade past his head in warning.

"Nope! Not at all!" Luke replied quickly, raising his hands. "I'm known for my commitment. Really. Super trustworthy."

At least he got what he wanted from her now... joining him to conquer all hells of course,

She was on board.

"Alright then," She grinned. "Who’s our first target?"

"Is it Limbo?"

Hela’s eyes gleamed with excitement, like a predator ready to strike. 

Her lips curled into a grin that promised chaos.

"How’d you know I was heading to Limbo?" Luke asked, genuinely surprised.

Hela tilted her head, amused by his confusion. 

For the first time since they met, she actually smiled.

"Oh, darling~" she purred.

"That little fight between you and Belasco? Yeah, word travels fast down here in the underworld. You’ve become quite the hot topic."

She sauntered closer to him, her fingers trailing lightly across his chest. 

A sharp sting followed, and a thin red line appeared on his skin.

"Especially that old devil Mephisto," she added with a wicked grin. "That sanctimonious freak’s obsessed with you. I heard he even sent agents to Earth, trying to dig up more dirt."

She swiped a bit of Luke’s blood on her fingertip and brought it to her lips, tasting it like fine wine.

"So... what about you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You after my soul too?"

Hela straightened up, her smirk fading into something more regal. 

She ran a hand through her long black hair, then flicked her wrists outward. 

A towering, spiked helmet formed on her head, and from beneath her skin, a dark-green metallic substance covered every inch of her previous naked body, fully restoring her armor to its terrifying glory.

Her power spiked like a thunderclap.

"No," she said coldly. "Souls bore me."

Luke felt the chill ripple through the air as Hela’s full aura, the essence of the Goddess of Death, spread out.

"There’s only one thing I care about..."

She waved a hand, and the dark mist around them vanished in an instant.

The bleak horizon expanded before them.

Rows upon rows of undead soldiers filled the land, their bodies clad in ancient and modern Asgardian armor, holding rusted swords or gleaming spears. 

The ground looked like a forest of metal and bone.

"Give the word, my darling," Hela said, taking a graceful step back and bowing slightly, her voice honeyed with bloodlust.

"Let’s start a war that never ends~"

The undead legion roared in response, their battle cries shaking the air.

...

Meanwhile, in Limbo—

Since the failed invasion of Earth, most of the demons had sunk into despair and disorder. 

But one among them had never let his fury die.

Belasco.

The fallen Hell Lord, once a step away from heavenly power, burned with rage. 

He had lost the battle... and his sword. 

His name had become a joke across every corner of Hell.

"N’astirh!" he bellowed. "How’s the portal coming!?"

The first demon Luke had ever summoned—now promoted to a general—bowed nervously before Belasco.

"The passage has long been completed, my lord, but..."

"But what?" Belasco growled, sinking deeper into his throne.

His fury had blinded him for days, ignoring everything else.

"Well... the army you gathered? They mutinied again. Many demons broke rank and fled."

"WHAT?!"

"They say... the price of souls is skyrocketing. Even the cheapest ones cost 500,000 demon coins now."

"..."

Chapter 33 MCE

Meanwhile…

Luke had no idea how much his rejection had pushed Tony over the edge.

Right now, he was focused on one thing — getting ready for his journey to the underworld.

Sure, it was Odin’s idea.

 But the logic behind it made sense. 

If he could bring Hela back, it could tilt the balance of power dramatically in his favor.

A win for Odin, who’d get closure for his children.

 A win for Hela, who could return from exile and chase her ambitions again. 

And for Luke? 

A major power boost and a valuable ally in his corner.

"Odin really is a sly old fox," Luke muttered, checking his gear.

The Eye of Agamotto — check.

The Great Shadow’s cloak. Belasco’s sword. A stack of powerful exorcism cards. 

And one more thing—Luke carried a special gift from Lucifer Morningstar himself: the power of the Morning Star, strong enough to pull someone back from the dead and even grants him immortality.

A little underworld goddess like Hela? Luke wasn’t worried... maybe a little bit?

"Wanda, while I’m gone, you’ll be in charge of the sanctum," Luke said, handing her a small, glowing silver key.

Wanda blinked, her hand hesitating. "Me?"

"This isn’t just a key," Luke explained with a grin. "It activates all the magic circles in the New York Sanctum. If anything goes wrong, you can use a portal to Kama Taj and ask the Ancient One for help."

Wanda still didn’t take the key.

"Should I go with you instead?" she asked, clearly concerned.

Luke chuckled. "Do you even know where I’m headed? The underworld, Wanda. You know what we usually call people who go there? Undead. Or lunatics. Maybe both."

He leaned in a bit closer, lowering his voice. "Every Asgardian soul ends up there when they die. And not one living person has ever come back."

Wanda's concern only deepened. "Then why are you going?"

She reached out, lightly grabbing his sleeve.

Luke cracked a crooked grin. "Relax. I’m just messing with you. It’s just a minor dimension. Nothing I can’t handle."

He patted her head gently, then said in a softer tone, "But I do need you to stay. If you really want to help, focus on developing your powers. That’s the best way you can support me."

Wanda finally let go, her hand dropping to her side. 

But her expression turned determined.

"I will, Mr. Constantine. I will become stronger."

Luke sighed hearing her call him 'Mr. Constantine' again,

'I really can't change that one,'

"I’m counting on it," Luke replied, turning and walking toward the exit of the New York Sanctum.

Ordinary teleportation wouldn’t cut it for a trip like this.

 You couldn’t just walk into another dimension like it’s a weekend getaway.

But Luke didn’t need fancy rituals. Not with the system's help.

He stepped outside, glanced up at the sky—and boom.

A vibrant pillar of rainbow light suddenly shot down from the clouds.

"So this is the Rainbow Bridge," he said, eyes gleaming. "Pretty awesome."

The beam wrapped around him, lifting him into the air and shooting him upward. 

It was like flying through a wormhole—except way more colorful.

In just seconds, the ride ended. 

The light faded, and Luke stepped out into a breathtaking golden hall.

Standing ahead of him was a tall, regal man with dark skin, golden armor, and a long sword—Heimdall, the guardian of Asgard.

"The God-King awaits you in the great hall," Heimdall said without looking away from the horizon.

Luke tilted his head. "Yeah, about that… I’m kinda on a schedule. Can we skip the meeting and just open the door to the underworld?"

Heimdall’s stern expression didn’t change, but there was a pause.

 "The God-King has chosen an artifact for you from the royal vault. He wishes you a safe journey."

Luke perked up instantly. "An artifact? Well why didn’t you say that in the first place? I’m on my way!"

Without hesitation, he started walking toward the throne room, eager to see what magical weapon was waiting for him.

"Is this the artifact you picked out for me?"

In the grand hall of Asgard, Luke stood before Odin once more. But this time, Odin wasn’t the weathered old man from Earth. He sat high on his throne, cloaked in golden armor with a gleaming one-eyed helm, radiating power and command—the true image of a God-King.

Luke crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. On the pedestal in front of him sat what looked like a cracked, aged eyeball. "Seriously? This is it?"

"This," Odin said as he slowly descended the steps, "is the Warlock's Eye. It allows the wielder to glimpse fragments of the future. It's somewhat like the Eye of Agamotto you already carry."

Odin paused beside him. "But its real strength lies in dispelling illusions—banishing the false darkness that clouds the senses."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "Useful. I guess. Still kinda creepy."

"Helheim isn’t like other realms of the dead," Odin continued. "Illusions twist reality there. One misstep and your soul may be lost forever. That’s why I chose to exile Hela there."

Luke caught the hesitation in Odin’s voice. "But you didn’t expect her to thrive there, did you? Let alone take over and crown herself Hell Lord."

Odin sighed, guilt flickering behind his one good eye. "No... I didn’t. But knowing her nature, I should have. She’s always been relentless."

He stepped back. "Succeed in this, and the next time you return to Asgard, I will grant you another treasure from our vault."

Luke gave a small nod. 

He understood the deal. 

Do the job, get paid.

………

After parting ways with Odin, Luke took some time to roam the golden city. 

Asgard was breathtaking, but sprawling. 

He wandered for a while but didn’t run into Thor—or any of the famous faces from the movies or comics.

"What a shame," he muttered. "Would’ve liked to say hi to Sif… or run into the Enchantress herself... for research purposes of course..."

Eventually, Luke made his way back to the Bifrost. Heimdall stood there as always, unmoving, like part of the architecture.

"The path to the underworld is open," Heimdall said in his deep voice. "Be careful."

With a precise motion, Heimdall thrust his massive sword into the control pillar. 

The energy surged, and the Rainbow Bridge came alive in a flash of swirling color and light.

"Quick question, Heimdall," Luke said, glancing back. "If I scream for help from the underworld… can you pull me back?"

"No," Heimdall replied firmly. "My vision can stretch across galaxies—but Helheim is one of the few places I cannot see. In other words, I'll be sending you there blindly... a word that I haven't used for a long time..."

Luke gave a short sigh and turned toward the light. "Didn’t think so. Worth a try."

………

Moments later, the Bifrost faded behind him.

When Luke opened his eyes, everything had changed.

The air was thick with inky black mist, cold and heavy. 

It clung to his skin like static. 

The ground crunched faintly beneath his boots, but there was no wind. 

Only a deathly chill that seemed to cut straight through him.

"So… this is Hel," Luke muttered, half-joking. "Guess I finally made it."

He picked a direction and started walking, the silence pressing in on all sides. 

After a few cautious steps, a shape appeared through the fog.

A familiar figure.

"Mr. Constantine?!" a voice called out, weak but recognizable.

Wanda.

She stumbled toward him, clothes torn and eyes wide.

 She looked like she’d been trapped here for days.

"What the fuck Wanda?" Luke blinked. "Didn’t think you had the cash—or the guts—to get here."

He stopped and studied her carefully, his expression shifting from surprise to curiosity. 

"Now this… this is interesting."

The tattered clothes barely covered anything, clinging to Wanda like they were more for show than protection. Her form was completely exposed beneath the rips and tears.

"Luke... why don’t you come over here?" she said in a soft, shaky voice, arms wrapped around herself like she was freezing. "I’m so cold~"

She looked vulnerable, helpless even—but Luke didn’t move.

"Looks like these illusions are built off my memories," Luke muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Everyone probably sees something different."

He pulled out the Warlock’s Eye—Odin’s gift. With a flick of his fingers, he channeled a pulse of demonic energy into it.

 The eye lit up with an eerie golden glow before suddenly merging into his forehead. 

A glowing, vertical eye appeared there, gleaming with power.

"Great. Now I look like some budget version of Vision with extra steps," Luke grumbled.

As soon as the Warlock’s Eye activated, the illusion around him shattered. 

Wanda vanished in an instant. 

In her place was a massive, jagged abyss that looked like the earth had been ripped apart.

Luke cautiously walked to the edge and picked up a rock. He tossed it down.

No echo.

"Well, that’s unsettling," he muttered, taking a step back. "Now I get how people get lost in this place."

He turned away and chose a different path, opting not to fly over the crack.

"Knowing this dimension, it’s probably got some crazy law like anti-gravity traps or soul-sucking vortex. I'm not about to be dragged into a magical death pit."

But as he walked further, he ran into another fissure.

 This time, something jumped across it—a figure in rusted Asgardian armor.

"No mistaking it. That’s an undead," Luke said. "Guess not every warrior gets into the Valhalla."

Helheim wasn’t for the honored dead.

 It was where the forgotten souls of Asgard were dumped—the ones who died ordinary deaths, not in glorious battle.

"Think the Valhalla is some warrior paradise?" a cold voice echoed.

Luke tensed. 

That voice.

Finally.

She was here.

"It’s actually just an eternal nightmare," the voice continued. "The brave fight, die, then do it again. Forever. Until Ragnarok burns it all."

Hela stepped out of the shadows, regal even in her tattered clothes. 

Her armor was shattered, her cape in pieces, but her presence was unshaken. 

She looked every bit the goddess of death.

"We meet again, Hela," Luke said calmly.

But before he could get another word in, her expression darkened.

"Odin sent you, didn’t he?" she hissed. Her eyes narrowed at the golden vertical eye on his forehead. "The Warlock’s Eye… That old man wouldn’t hand that over unless it meant something big."

She dropped into a battle stance, energy crackling at her fingertips.

"It’s Luke Constantine, by the way," he muttered, confused and slightly annoyed. "And seriously, can we not jump straight into the stabbing part? And let's talk civilized for a sec?"

He raised a hand, stalling her for a moment.

"Hold on. Wait until I say 'let's dance,' then we throw down. Deal?"

With a smirk, Luke reached into his cloak and pulled out the Eye of Agamotto.

Chapter 32 MCE

The next few days.

Luke commuted daily between New York and Kamar-Taj, his footsteps nearly as familiar in the ancient sanctum as in the bustling city streets. 

He wasn't sure if the system would function properly in the underworld, especially with a local version of Hela possibly waiting for them.

Just in case, he decided to take things into his own hands.

For once, Luke became a diligent student, diving headfirst into the study of advanced magic. 

His first stop: the library of Kamar-Taj. 

Again.

"Here we go again..."

As he stepped inside, the ever-watchful Wong spotted him and sighed deeply.

"You might be wasting your time today," Wong said, arms crossed. "The Ancient One is already dodging you."

Luke rolled his eyes. "That obvious, huh?"

"But Mordo’s been asking around for you. Words about Limbo reached him," Wong added before motioning for Luke to enter the restricted section.

 "Go on. Find whatever spell you need. Just don’t mess anything up. And put things back where they belong."

Without another word, Wong vanished, clearly wanting to avoid being dragged into another one of Luke’s schemes.

Luke muttered under his breath, "Is the underworld really that scary? One by one, you’d think they’d at least offer to come with me."

Sure, he hadn’t formally joined Kamar-Taj’s ranks, but after a few intense days of training, he figured that made them—at least unofficially—fellow disciples. 

Brothers in magic, right? Apparently not.

"If this doesn’t work out, I’ll just head to Asgard and bother Odin. He did ask me for help first..."

Luke tucked a heavy magic tome back onto the shelf.

 In the past few days, he’d crammed in quite a few life-saving spells.

Like the Shield of Seraphim, the Images of Ikonn, and—possibly the most useful—the Mirror Dimension. 

Spells like these didn’t require a specific power source, making them perfect for Luke’s unpredictable demonic energy.

Some spells, like the famous Hosts of Hoggoth, were completely out of reach. 

They required divine energy from ancient beings like Hoggoth—part of the Vishanti trio. 

Not really something he could access, even with the system.

"Even if I can’t beat Hela, I should at least be able to escape in one piece," Luke said to himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Sun Tzu would’ve agreed: The truly skilled don’t go into battle unless they’re already unshakable.

That was why Luke wanted to drag the Ancient One into this mess.

After all, she was the one who tattled to Odin to begin with...

"Ancient One?"

Leaving the library, Luke made his way straight to the training chamber. Just like Wong had warned, it was empty.

But right there in the middle of the room, on a raised shelf, sat the Eye of Agamotto.

"Can I borrow this?"

Luke waited for an answer, and hearing no one's rebutal, he shrugged and went near the relic.

No protection spells. No illusion traps. No Ancient One guarding it. 

Just the Time Stone hanging quietly in its ornate casing.

Luke didn’t wait. 

He grabbed it.

Better to leave before she showed up and changed her mind.

...

A swirl of energy later, he stepped through a portal and landed in the New York Sanctum. 

The Eye of Agamotto still hung securely around his neck.

"Okay," he said, grinning. "Now we’re in business."

Forget Hela—if she showed up now, he’d probably just slow her down with some fruit tricks.

He picked up an apple, took a few bites, set it on the table, and opened the Eye.

Sure enough, just like in the movie, a green glow sparked from the Eye of Agamotto. The bite marks on the fruit disappeared in an instant.

"Pfft!" Luke suddenly spat out a piece of fruit pulp. "What the hell?!"

He stared at the apple sitting intact on the table. The piece of fruit in his mouth didn’t vanish—it had been recreated to restore the apple.

"Seriously? It didn’t disappear, it just... duplicated? No wonder people say the Time Stone isn’t meant for casual use."

He scoffed. "Newton’s probably rolling in his grave."

Just as Luke was about to stow the Eye away, a voice called out behind him.

"Mr. Constantine, is this also magic?"

It was Wanda.

For the past few days, Wanda had been training non-stop. 

Because Luke understood her powers came from chaos magic, his guidance had mostly been adapted from what he'd learned at Kamar-Taj. Still, chaos magic was different. 

Very different.

While mystic magic came from disciplined training or borrowed sources, Wanda’s chaos magic was internal. 

It came from her, naturally—no spells needed, only exploration.

"More or less," Luke said, turning to face her. 

Then, an idea struck.

"Wanda, tell me—what’s your favorite food? Favorite color? Animal? Place to visit?"

She blinked, startled. "Uh... I like sweets, especially low-calorie nutritional shakes. My favorite color is red. And... I like cats. As for places—I guess somewhere quiet, like a park or the library."

Even though she was confused by the sudden questions, she answered them all honestly.

Luke nodded silently, memorizing every word. 

Then, with a small grin, he activated the Eye of Agamotto again.

...

"Mr. Luke, is this also magic?" Wanda’s voice repeated behind him.

"Yes," Luke said, turning to face her with a smile. "It is. And speaking of magic—could you do me a favor? Can you grab some food for me from outside?"

"Sure. What would you like?" Wanda asked.

"A smoothie—any flavor. Oh, and grab a nutritional shake. Low-calorie. That one’s for you."

Wanda’s eyes widened. "Huh?"

Before she could process it, she was already halfway out the Sanctum, flustered and red-faced.

Luke watched her go, a smug grin on his face. "Now this—this is the real way to use the Time Stone. Strange has no clue."

...

Meanwhile, in New York—

Inside Avengers Tower, Tony Stark worked tirelessly in his lab, eyes heavy with exhaustion but hands moving like clockwork.

Dr. Banner stood nearby, looking increasingly worried. "Tony, come on. You haven’t slept in days. If you keep this up, I’m seriously afraid you’re going to collapse."

Tony didn’t even glance up. "Relax. I know my limits. Jarvis is monitoring my vitals in real time. Besides..."

He popped a pill from a container on the table. "This little guy keeps me going. Keeps the body fueled while skipping all that boring stuff—like sleep, eat."

"You mean skipping the necessary activities for the body to function?"

Tony shrugged, ignoring Bruce's sarcastic remark. "Doctor, remember what we found at the Hydra base?"

"You mean Loki's scepter?" Dr. Banner had just finished speaking when he turned around and saw Tony dragging a metal case out from the corner of the lab.

"I brought it back," Tony said casually.

He opened the box. Sure enough, inside was Loki's scepter from the Battle of New York — the very one embedded with the Mind Stone.

"I thought you gave that to S.H.I.E.L.D.," Banner said, his face tightening.

In this version of reality, Hydra was wiped out early thanks to a butterfly effect, so S.H.I.E.L.D. had remained intact, never disbanded like it was in the movies.

"Yeah, we did. And what happened? Hydra got their hands on it," Tony said sharply, securing the scepter to the lab table. "So now we keep it. Study it. Understand it. Come help me."

Dr. Banner approached, cautiously eyeing the scepter. Even after all this time, he couldn’t shake off the bad memories. 

This thing had once messed with his mind and turned him into the Hulk mid-flight on a S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier.

"You sure we should be poking this thing again?" Banner said warily. "Might be better locked up in a vault somewhere."

Tony ignored him. He was already lost in his work.

"Remember that Ultron project I told you about?" he said, typing rapidly. "I think it’s time to make it real."

Grabbing a transparent touchscreen device, Tony scanned the scepter and flicked it in air causing a hologram to lit up between them, a glowing neural network pulsing with activity.

"This is... from inside the scepter?" Banner asked, leaning in.

"Bingo," Tony grinned. "Guess what it’s doing."

"Looks like it’s... thinking. It's not a human mind, but...close. It's like neurons firing."

Tony nod solemnly at Bruce's remarks.

"Down at Strucker's lab, I found some very advance robotics. The deep six the data, but... I gotta guess he was knocking into a particular one..."

"Artificial Intelligence..." Bruce with a frown.

"This could be it, Bruce. This could make the Ultron project work," Tony said, eyes gleaming. "Imagine an AI that can think, learn, adapt — no more human errors. It evolves itself. No fatigue. No doubts. I see a suit of armor around the world,"

"That sounds like a cold war, Tony." Bruce added,

"I've seen colder."

Tony's voice got harder. "This one, this vulnerable blue one? It needs Ultron. So that next time aliens, or demons, or whoever else wants to attack Earth — they’ll meet legion of iron. No magic. No sorcery. Just tech."

He glanced toward Queens, as if searching for something in the skyline.

"We don’t need mystics, Doc. Just machines. Peace in our time... just imagine that..."

Chapter 31 MCE

"Ms. Felicia, why are you so afraid of Mr. Constantine?" Wanda asked curiously, her voice soft as she peeked into the kitchen.

"He’s clearly a nice guy. He even helped you lift that curse."

She glanced at Felicia, cheeks tinged pink.

 Felicia’s figure was almost intimidating—it would make even another girl blush.

"You’re still new here, little girl... you wouldn't get it—"

"Ahem."

A light cough came from outside. 

Felicia froze, face pale, and quickly zipped her lips.

———

While Felicia and Wanda were handling dinner, Luke had stepped out alone for a walk through the quiet neighborhood.

He needed to breathe.

Too much blood today. Too many bodies.

Today’s chaos at the Sokovia base? 

Not an isolated incident.

Thanks to teleportation magic and his demonic energy channeling, Luke had gone full rampage mode across multiple Hydra outposts. 

All in one day.

Thousands dead. 

Hundreds captured. 

A one-man exorcist blitz.

Only Baron Strucker’s base had gone perfectly. 

That one gave Luke’s shadow abilities a solid level-up.

"I wonder what level my strength is now..."

Marvel’s power scale wasn’t exactly precise, but there were rough tiers:

First, the Street Level — guys like Captain America, Black Widow, or Black Panther. Strong, but human-tier. 

Next up, Planetary Level. Thor, Captain Marvel, or Thanos without the Gauntlet. 

They could casually destroy cities, and if they wanted to, even destroy a continent.

Then came the Cosmic Level, or "Skyfather" tier—Odin, the Ancient One. 

These guys didn't fight often because the collateral damage would wipe out a planet, and in some comics, even a galaxy is not spared.

"Judging by that scale..."

Luke crossed his arms, mulling it over.

"I think I’m comfortably past the street and close to planetary."

Especially after juicing up on Baron Strucker’s stolen energy, his shadow magic had exploded in strength.

If he unleashed it all, he could spread his Shadow Domain over an entire city. 

Literally summon an army from the shadows.

"Still, I don’t feel that powerful..."

Luke sighed.

Probably because he hung out with powerhouses on the daily—Odin, Ancient One, literal Hell Lords. 

It warped his sense of scale.

While pondering whether to find a few mid-tier villains to pummel for fun, a shout broke through his thoughts.

"Don’t come any closer! I swear, I’ll scream!"

He turned toward the voice.

At the mouth of a shadowy alley, two thugs were cornering someone.

Luke narrowed his eyes.

It was a Gwen, she was being ganged up by two thugs.

Now that was unexpected.

A classic cliché—hero stumbling into a damsel in distress.

And it just so happened to be his favorite kind of cliché.

Time to play the knight in a demonic armor.

...

It’s a shame Luke didn’t get long to enjoy the whole damsel-in-distress moment.

The opportunity to swoop in and save the day vanished in an instant. A few solid thuds echoed from the alley, followed by a groan or two. 

Seconds later, Gwen strolled out casually, brushing dust off her skirt and swinging her school bag like nothing had happened.

"Told you not to mess with me," she muttered with a satisfied little grin, not even glancing back.

Luke raised an eyebrow.

He watched her saunter toward him, her usual composed demeanor back in full effect—until she noticed him.

"Luke?! What are you doing here?" Gwen froze mid-step, her expression shifting to one of awkward surprise.

She tugged her jacket straight and tried to look innocent.

"I live around here," Luke said simply, glancing past her into the alley. 

The two guys were sprawled out on the ground, out cold.

Peaceful as babies.

"Okay, okay, look, it’s not what it looked like..." Gwen fumbled for an excuse.

But Luke cut her off, voice low and curious: "Gwen. You’ve got powers now, don’t you?"

She blinked. "How’d you—" She caught herself, then backpedaled fast. "No, no, I mean—uh—I gotta go!"

She turned to bolt, but Luke reached out and caught her wrist.

"Sorry, Luke. Really. I need to—"

She pulled, but his grip didn’t budge. 

Her eyes widened.

Wait... what?

She’d bent a steel pipe barehanded two days ago.

But now she couldn’t break his grip?

"You’re—" she stared at him, realization dawning.

Luke gave her a half-smirk. "Yup. Just like you’re thinking."

"So... you were bitten by a spider too?"

He didn’t answer. 

Just raised an eyebrow.

………

"You’re the Demon Slayer?!"

On the walk back, Gwen looked like she was still trying to process everything.

"I literally have a whole folder of your stuff saved on my computer!"

Luke glanced at her, amused. "Stuff like what?"

"Well... art of you. Like, what you look like when you transform. To be honest, it's kind of terrifying." She leaned in a bit, studying his face like she expected to see horns hidden under his skin.

'She's too close' Luke inwardly thought,

"When’d you get bit?" Luke asked, lightly pressing a hand on her head to push her head a bit and stop her staring.

"A few days ago. The school organized a field trip to Oscorp Labs. It was actually supposed to be Peter’s spot."

She hesitated a moment before continuing.

"But after the second New York invasion, Peter and his family were moved out of the city. He gave me the spot."

Luke stopped walking. 

That tiny change... it clicked.

"So... you weren’t even supposed to go."

"Right," Gwen nodded. "Peter handed it to me."

Luke exhaled slowly. 

The butterfly effect hit harder than he expected. 

In a normal timeline, Peter Parker would’ve been the one bitten. 

Gwen? Just another student. Well, in most universe that was the case,

But now Peter had missed the spider bite. 

Gwen had taken his place.

"Guess this world’s Spider-Man is Spider-Woman now," Luke muttered under his breath.

Still, it wasn’t all bad. 'At least Uncle Ben’s probably alive.'

As much as Luke respected the original Spider-Man, every version of Peter Parker seemed to come with the same curse. 

Uncle Ben’s fate was practically a fixed point in every timeline. 

In other words, it was a canon event.

"By the way... what are you doing in Queens? Looking for Peter?"

Gwen gave a soft nod. "Yeah."

Then with a mischievous grin, Gwen patted her backpack and said,

"Hehe, since he got evacuated, the school dumped a ton of homework on us. I figured, being the generous person I am, I’d hand-deliver it to him."

Luke raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "Bet he’s super grateful for that."

He could clearly see the playful side of Gwen peeking through, and honestly, it was kind of fun to watch.

The two of them walked side by side, casually chatting as they made their way back to the neighborhood.

"I’ll stop here," Luke said as they reached the corner near the community gate. 

He handed her a small card with a gold-etched address. 

"If anything comes up, or if you need help, come find me here."

The card had the address for the New York Sanctum printed on it.

Gwen accepted it with a small smile. 

For the first time since gaining her spider powers, she didn’t feel completely alone. 

There was someone else who understood, and surprisingly, that someone didn’t look at her any different, didn't look at her like a freak. 

That meant more than she could explain.

"Thanks, Luke."

And then—before he could react—Gwen suddenly stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. 

Her face turned bright red as she spun around and bolted in the direction of Peter Parker’s house.

"...The fuck? That was totally random..."

Luke blinked, stunned.

"I thought she had a thing for Pete? Or am I mistaken? Is Pete gonna get curse with a red-head in this universe too? That's rough, buddy..."

He shook his head, a small laugh escaping as he turned around.

………

Back home, dinner was already on the table. 

Felicia had cooked up something that actually smelled amazing.

While they ate, Luke suddenly paused mid-bite. 

His eyes slowly swept across the room, locking onto each of the three women sitting with him—Elektra, Felicia, and Wanda.

Elektra, ever composed, didn’t even flinch. 

She kept on serving soup like she hadn’t noticed his stare at all.

Felicia? Total opposite. 

She looked like someone caught red-handed, eyes darting everywhere except toward Luke.

Wanda, however, blinked in confusion, clearly caught off guard by the attention.

"Um... Mr. Constantine? Did something happen?"

She tilted her head slightly, a little nervous. 

The way Luke was looking at her made her heart beat faster, which, honestly, wasn’t helping. 

He was older, confident, and frustratingly good-looking. 

Definitely dangerous territory.

Luke set down his utensils and leaned forward slightly, expression serious.

"I’ve been thinking."

"Thinking about...?" Wanda asked, lowering her eyes with a soft flush coloring her cheeks.

"How does someone go about recruiting a strong, intimidating woman to join them in a quest of conquer?"

Silence.

Wanda’s blush evaporated instantly.

Felicia even peeked up from her food, silently mouthing, 'Seriously?'

The air was thick with unspoken judgment.

"Wait, wait, not like that!" Luke quickly added, waving his hands. "I meant in a battle sense. As in, make her fight for me. Not... you know... conquer in the other way."

Wanda let out a sigh of relief she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Felicia went back to eating, though now with a faint smirk playing at her lips.

"I mean, I wouldn't know," Wanda said, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

"I’ve never really met that kind of person. I spent most of my time... well, surviving. Labs, streets, running. Not really a crowd full of intimidating queens."

"Don’t look at me," Felicia chimed in. "I’m a pretty chill girl. Not really the hard-to-tame type."

Just then, Elektra—who had been completely silent the entire time—set down the ladle and turned toward Luke.

"The more powerful and domineering a woman is... the easier it is to see where she’s vulnerable. Find that crack in her armor... and you’ll have her on your side before she even realizes it."

Chapter 30 MCE

Tony tried to act like it was no big deal, like this was just business as usual—but there was something deeper in his eyes. 

Fear. 

The kind that came from facing too many battles, too many near-apocalypses. Near extinction events.

Whether it was the Chitauri invasion, a literal demonic incursion, or either of the New York disasters... Tony had seen too much.

He was cracking, desperate to achieve control and security.

Luke could see it.

Luke stayed silent for a moment, letting the weight of the offer sink in. 

Hundreds of billions of dollars.

Just handed over like it was pocket change.

Could he even sleep peacefully if he turned it down?

But in the end, he didn’t sign.

Luke wasn’t the type to tie himself down. SHIELD, the Avengers—they weren’t his kind of crowd. 

Even his role as a temporary guardian of the Sanctum had been more out of convenience than allegiance.

"Damn it, looking at you is giving me a headache," he muttered, waving his hand. 

A glowing portal opened behind Tony.

Before Stark could protest, Luke flicked his fingers, and both the billionaire and his precious contract were flung through it.

Hundreds of billions in assets—gone in a second.

Luke winced slightly. "Ugh. That actually hurt."

……………

Odin, who had quietly observed the entire scene, let out a deep chuckle.

"This mortal... his future holds great promise," he said with a knowing smile.

Coming from the All-Father of Asgard, that wasn’t faint praise.

"What? Can you see the future too?" Luke grumbled, dropping onto the couch again, clearly irritated.

"No," Odin said calmly, sipping from his goblet. "But I’ve walked this universe for over thousands of years. I’ve learned how to judge people."

His one eye glowed faintly as he turned toward Luke. "And I see the same in you. Your future... is limitless."

"Alright, alright. Enough flattery," Luke said, waving it off. "You didn’t show up here just to butter me up. What’s really going on?"

Odin nodded. "I’m here because of Hela."

Luke raised an eyebrow.

"Unlike my sons, Hela inherited my ambition and ruthlessness from my younger days. Her power is tied to Asgard. If she escapes Hel and sets foot on Asgardian soil again... she’ll be unstoppable."

Odin's tone grew heavy, his words laced with foresight and dread. 

It was clear he had seen visions of destruction.

"Luke, I need your help."

"Stop right there," Luke said quickly, his expression already turning sour. "I don’t do family drama."

If anything, he felt more sympathy for Hela. 

Odin had built an empire with her—used her like a weapon. 

And when his plans changed, he cast her out like she was just a tool gone dull.

Luke stared Odin down. 

"If you're here to ask me to help put your daughter back in a cage, you can turn around and leave."

Odin didn’t flinch. Instead, he shook his head.

"No," he said. "I want you to help her."

"What!?"

...

Looking at Odin’s back as he walked away slowly with the help of his staff, Luke stood in the doorway, still a bit stunned.

"Did that old man seriously just say that?" he muttered, rubbing his temples.

"You want me to conquer Hela and let her conquer everything else?"

The more he thought about it, the more absurd it sounded.

Hela wasn’t just a force of nature—she was nature. 

A queen born to rule, whose mere presence could make even the toughest warrior kneel. 

Subduing someone like her? 

Might as well try to tame a black hole.

But Odin’s words echoed in his mind.

Hela was obsessed with conquest. That hunger was written into her soul. 

Odin believed that if she was given something to conquer—if that drive could be redirected outward instead of against Asgard—it could stop the storm brewing inside her.

In simpler terms: send her to fight the real threats, so she’d stop picking a fight with her home.

Luke had raised an eyebrow and asked, "Where do you expect me to find that many enemies to feed her appetite?"

And Odin—crafty as ever—had smirked.

"I already spoke to the Ancient One before I came here," he had said. "From what I understand, you've made quite a few enemies already."

"Rather than waiting for them to show up at your doorstep, wouldn’t it be smarter to take the fight to them—with Hela at your side?"

Luke didn’t like it, but... he had a point.

The dimensional barriers were weaker now. 

More things were slipping through. 

Instead of playing defense forever, maybe it was time to go on the offensive. 

Use the cracks between realms as highways instead of vulnerabilities.

And who knows... maybe on the way, he’d claim a throne or two himself.

Still, one little problem remained.

"How the hell do I convince a death goddess to take orders from me?"

Luke sighed and stepped back into the house.

He didn’t even make it past the living room before spotting Wanda. 

She stood there, hands clenched, her expression torn, and her eyes red.

"Let me guess," Luke said. "You saw Stark."

Wanda gave a tiny nod. 

Her voice was quiet, but full of hurt.

"The missile that killed my parents... it had his name on it."

Luke let out a small breath.

He had a good idea of the truth—Obadiah Stane, that old vulture, had probably been the one who sold weapons to both sides. 

Tony had been blind to it, but he wasn’t innocent either. Still, Luke wasn’t here to defend him.

Besides... the anger wasn’t directed at him. That’s what mattered.

"Mr. Constantine, you and Stark... are you close?" Wanda asked, uncertainty creeping into her voice.

She looked like she was bracing herself for the answer.

Luke just waved it off casually.

"Don’t worry about it. But hey, if you’re planning on going after him one day, at least give me a heads-up. So I can short Stark Industries stock before it crashes."

Wanda stared at him for a second, then let out a soft laugh. 

Some of the tension in her shoulders eased.

"Thank you, Mr. Constantine."

"Forget the 'Mr.' Just start calling me Luke, okay?"

She nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Luke watched her quietly for a moment.

She had power, no doubt—but also a shadow of self-doubt always clinging to her.

Whether from her past or how others treated her, she seemed to constantly lower herself, like she didn’t believe she belonged.

That wouldn’t last forever. 

Not under his roof.

"I’m getting dinner started," he said, turning for the kitchen.

But before he could even open a cabinet, Felicia darted in like a cat guarding its food bowl.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—nope! You are not taking this job from me," she said, gently but firmly pulling Wanda back. "Little girl, let me handle this. Cooking is my domain now."

As she spoke, she kept sneaking glances toward Luke, clearly worried about how he’d react.

Luke didn’t even look over.

 He was already heading back to the couch, waving a hand lazily.

"Fine, fine. Just don’t burn the place down."

Felicia exhaled in relief and got to work. 

Wanda watched her, then smiled again—smaller this time, but real.

Chapter 29 MCE

"Wanda!"

Pietro’s voice cracked as he stared at the glowing red energy in his sister’s palm.

"The experiment actually worked?"

Wanda slowly shook her head, her gaze fixed on her hand. "No… I don't think it was the experiment. I can feel it. This power… it was always inside me."

She looked over at her brother, her voice trembling with the weight of the memory.

 "Pietro, when that Hydra soldier had you pinned down… when I thought you were going to die… I panicked. I was terrified. And then—something snapped. I couldn’t hold it back anymore."

Luke stood a short distance away, arms crossed, silently watching the crimson aura swirling around her fingers. 

The demonic energy within him stirred slightly, reacting to Wanda’s surge.

 He wasn’t surprised—this was exactly what he was waiting for.

Wanda's scarlet energy flickered, crackling like wild flame.

"The power of the Chaos Magic," Luke muttered to himself. 

His expression, however, remained unreadable.

He hadn't brought the children back out of charity.

His true goal was Wanda all along.

And now, she stood before him, already wielding the power that would one day earn her the name—the Scarlet Witch.

"You can stay with me," Luke said plainly. "I’ll teach you how to control it."

Wanda looked stunned for a second, then nodded slowly, hope flickering in her chest.

Luke turned his attention to Pietro. 

"As for you… there’s something in you too. It’s buried deep, but it’s there. I suggest you train at Kamar-Taj for a while. When your power awakens, come find me."

Pietro gave a serious nod. "Got it. I won’t fall behind."

———

Soon after, Luke opened a portal and sent Pietro and the other children to Kamar-Taj. 

The Ancient One greeted them with her usual calm, though not without a sigh.

"You’ve thrown the timeline into chaos again," she muttered, her eyes narrowing at Luke.

Luke smirked, 'Is that a pun? Because I saved Scarlet Witch himself from that base?' he inwardly thought.

Still, she allowed the children to stay.

After a round of testing, it turned out Luke’s instincts had been right. 

The children showed impressive magical potential. 

One girl—an 8-year-old named Jenny—shocked even the Ancient One.

"She’s got potential," the Ancient One said. "Possibly greater than even the next Sorcerer Supreme."

Her gaze flicked over to Wanda, who stood quietly by Luke’s side.

"Are you sure you want to keep her?"

Luke didn’t hesitate. "Yes."

"The power inside her is dangerous. And now that you’ve interfered with their timeline, the future’s even more unpredictable."

"Uncertainty doesn’t mean doom," Luke countered, his tone firm. "Maybe changing the future means we finally get a better one."

The Ancient One didn’t argue further. 

But her expression remained grave.

The Time Stone no longer offered a clear path.

———

After leaving Kamar-Taj, Luke and Wanda returned to the New York Sanctum.

 It had been full when they left—now, it was quiet, almost lonely.

Wanda looked around, unease creeping in without Pietro and the others. 

Her fingers fidgeted at her side.

"Um… Mr. Constantine? Where will I be staying?"

Unlike Kamar-Taj, the New York Sanctum wasn’t exactly set up for newcomers. 

Most of the guardians stationed here spent their time either meditating or training in silence.

So naturally, there weren’t any extra guest rooms lying around.

“We can’t stay here,” Luke said casually, glancing around the quiet temple. 

Then he turned to Wanda with a small smirk. “And also, just call me Luke. No need for the whole ‘Mr. Constantine’ thing. It’s weird.”

With a simple motion, he opened a portal and stepped through it with Wanda, arriving back at a modest house in Queens.

Inside, Elektra was seated in the corner, methodically wiping down a set of gleaming weapons. 

She barely glanced up as they arrived.

“You’ve got a visitor,” she said in her usual flat tone.

“Who?” Luke asked, already suspicious.

“I don’t know. Some one-eyed guy.”

Luke’s face immediately darkened. “Don’t tell me... Nick Fury again?”

He muttered under his breath, clearly annoyed. 

That guy never seemed to give up.

“Wanda, the room on the left upstairs is yours,” Luke said, pointing toward the stairs.

Once she nodded and headed up, Luke walked to the front door with the expression of a man expecting trouble.

He yanked it open.

Instead of the bald, leather-jacket-wearing Fury, he was met with an older man—white hair, a long white beard, and a cane.

Not bald. Not black. Not Fury.

“Hello,” the man greeted in a calm, steady voice. 

“I’m Odin. I believe you know why I’m here.”

Luke blinked. “…Great.”

He had been prepared for Fury’s usual lecture about responsibility and timelines—not a visit from the literal All-Father of Asgard.

“This is probably about Hela,” Luke said with a sigh, stepping aside to let the old god in.

Odin nodded and entered slowly, walking like a man far older than his body suggested.

“I made many mistakes in my youth,” he began, his tone filled with reflection.

Luke cut him off. “No offense, but I’m not really interested in family drama.”

Odin paused for a moment, then lowered himself onto the living room sofa.

“Not long ago, I sensed a familiar power awaken here on Midgard. I asked the Ancient One, and she mentioned you may have had something to do with it.”

Luke raised an eyebrow.

“Hela,” Odin said plainly. “My firstborn. The Goddess of Death.”

“I imprisoned her long ago in a realm cut off from the others—a prison. I sealed her away for good reason. But somehow, you nearly bypassed that seal.”

Odin’s voice remained calm, but the weight behind his words was heavy.

Luke said nothing for a moment. 

Odin wasn’t just strong—he was ancient. 

Asgardians only got stronger with age, and Odin’s power was said to peak just before his death.

Not to mention, this was the original Odin from the main reality. He's not some extradimensional entity whatsoever.

Which meant exorcism tricks wouldn’t work here.

But Luke wasn’t worried. He had Ancient One as his backer. 

“So… are you here to scold me?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Of course not,” Odin replied, just as he was about to explain further—

BOOM!

A loud crash sounded just outside the front door.

Then came the ring of the doorbell.

“…Seriously?” Luke muttered. “What's today's occasion? What's up with so many goddamn visitors?”

With a groan, he got up and headed back to the door.

The door creaked open.

Tony Stark stood in the doorway, still clad in his battered Iron Man armor. 

The plating was scorched and scarred, blackened streaks running down his chest from recent explosions. 

Bits of shrapnel were still embedded in the metal, and faint wisps of smoke curled from the joints.

"Is SHIELD done cleaning house?" Luke asked,

He had only dealt with a few Hydra bases—specifically the one that had summoned a Shadow Demon. 

The rest? That was SHIELD's problem. 

Or more accurately, the Avengers' headache.

Tony stepped inside like he owned the place, shaking his head.

 "Yeah, well, mostly. Those Hydra rats were dug in deep. SHIELD was like Swiss cheese. Turns out they had this whole Insight Project going. 

Three giant helicarriers loaded with targeting algorithms. Luckily, only one of them got off the ground."

"Let me guess," Luke said, "You took care of it."

"You're damn right I did," Tony smirked. "Flew straight into the control center, let JARVIS take over the whole system. You should’ve seen the panic on those Hydra goons’ faces. Classic."

He was just getting into his brag when he finally noticed the regal figure sitting on the couch across from Luke.

Tony froze mid-step. 

Odin, King of Asgard, sat with one leg crossed over the other, sipping calmly from a goblet. 

The aura around him was heavy—ancient, divine. 

His single eye stared at Tony with calm interest.

"You're Tony Stark," Odin said with a slight nod. "Thor has spoken of you. I appreciate what you did during Loki’s... recent escapades."

Tony blinked, suddenly aware of just how casual he had been acting. 

The beard, the armor, the aura—it clicked. 

Thor's dad. The literal God King.

"Uh... right. Didn’t know you had royal company here," Tony muttered. 

He turned toward the door. "Luke, I’ll come back. Didn’t mean to interrupt."

"Oh come on," Luke said, finally looking up. "You think Odin’s going to bite your head off? Just spit it out."

Tony hesitated, then sighed. "Alright, alright. It’s the same deal as before."

He reached into his armor and pulled out a thick folder, setting it on the table with a soft thud.

"Fifteen percent of Stark Industries. That makes you second only to me on the board."

Luke blinked. "You’re giving me part of your company?"

"Not just part," Tony said. 

"A massive part. You’ve taken out threats we didn’t even know existed—demons, possessed Hydra squads, magic anomalies. I need you in this fight. Officially."

A thought jumped in Luke’s mind: [Asset Transfer: Approximate Value—Hundreds of Billions.]

He stared at the contract. "That’s insane. You’re just giving this to me?"

Tony shrugged. 

"You’re not exactly replaceable. Look, I only own 39%. Obadiah had 25% before he went full supervillain and got vaporized. The rest is split across a bunch of small-time shareholders. I bought most of Obadiah’s chunk after he died. And now I’m handing almost all of that to you."

Luke looked at him like he had grown another head. "I don’t get it. The Avengers aren’t your personal organization, Stark."

"Is it really worth throwing around hundreds of billions just to recruit someone for a public team?"

Luke leaned back on the couch, arms crossed, genuinely puzzled. He wasn’t trying to be dramatic—it just didn’t make sense.

"You’re burning your own fortune... for a team you don’t even technically own?"

Tony Stark scratched the back of his head, clearly caught off guard by the question. 

For a moment, even he looked unsure.

"I... well..." he trailed off.

But then the uncertainty faded, and the usual Stark confidence returned. 

"It doesn’t matter. Money’s not the issue. If it’s being spent on something that matters, that’s all I care about."

He looked Luke dead in the eyes. "I’m asking you, Luke Constantine, to officially join the Avengers."

Chapter 28 MCE

This power was overwhelming. 

So overwhelming, in fact, that Baron Strucker could barely contain the euphoria coursing through his veins. 

It was intoxicating. A rush unlike anything he'd ever felt. Like a god touching the stars. And yet...

"Hehe~"

"Luke, right?" he sneered, face twisting into a crooked grin. "You should've just finished me off when you had the chance. But no... you got cocky."

Strucker’s fear had vanished, replaced by a savage confidence. 

The trembling man from moments ago was gone, buried under layers of dark power.

Luke didn’t respond. No need to explain himself. 

The plan had already worked. The trap was set, and now it was time to collect the prize.

He moved first. Without hesitation.

"You really think I'm the same guy you fought before?" Strucker roared, the shadows coiling around him like living smoke.

Luke watched calmly as half of Strucker’s shadow energy lashed out in chaos, trying to stabilize itself. 

It was strong, yes—raw and abundant—but uncontrolled. Sloppy.

"Ha! Is this what it felt like when you tore through my forces earlier?" Strucker laughed maniacally, watching the newly born shadow soldiers surge forth, matching Luke’s in number.

Then he vanished—slipping into the darkness like a phantom.

A sneak attack. 

Classic.

But before he could strike, Luke’s hand shot through the void and slapped him clean out of the shadows.

"What?" Strucker’s voice cracked.

Luke stared him down. "You think you're the only one with shadow energy?"

Strucker stumbled, dazed by the hit. 

The euphoria of power had inflated his ego.

 Now it was leaking fast.

"You—"

Before the words could even leave his mouth, Luke was already on him again—faster than lightning. 

A blur of fists and pressure.

Strucker panicked. He was still learning this power, still trying to control the torrent inside him. 

He hadn’t adapted yet.

Even if he had...

At best, they’d be equals.

But Luke wasn’t planning on being equals.

"Who needs a hammer when I’ve got these?"

Luke fought barehanded, forcing Strucker back, step by step, shrinking his space. 

Every time Strucker tried to summon shadow minions, Luke disrupted them with a violent torrent of shadow,

"If I’m not using them, neither are you."

"No! This can’t be happening!" Strucker cried out. "I carry the power of the Shadow God! I’m invincible!"

But the look in his eyes told the truth—he knew he was losing.

His spirit was unraveling.

He’d been ready to die before. At peace with it.

But Luke had let him summon the shadow demon. Gave him hope.

And now, as that hope crumbled a second time, something in Strucker snapped.

He started rambling, his voice unsteady.

Luke didn’t wait.

"Strike while the villain’s unhinged," he muttered.

In a flash, he appeared behind Strucker. 

Sinister gleam visible on his eyes. 

"Take a deep breath. Dizziness is normal."

CRACK.

Luke twisted his neck with enough force to nearly decapitate him. 

Strucker’s body slumped, head hanging at an unnatural angle.

Buzz!

Inky-black shadow energy burst out of the corpse like a ruptured dam.

Luke reached out, absorbing it.

He took a deep breath, and savored the feeling rushing towards him,

The energy flooded his system like a tidal wave.

Waves of shadow energy erupted from within his very being, shaking the very air surrounding him. 

The shadows were untamed, moving erratically, seemingly trying to return to its original owner.

[Ding!]

[Abnormal energy detected!]

[Supreme Exorcist System has successfully purified it for you!]

Just then, the shadow energy that was moving chaotically went to state of stillness, it covered Luke's form like a calm river, empowering his very being with darkness.

Luke flexed his fingers, feeling the raw power settle into him.

"Thanks for the donation," he said dryly, glancing at Strucker’s lifeless body.

Then he turned to the remaining shadow soldiers.

"Chop him up—real fine. I don’t wanna see a single chunk left."

The shadows moved without hesitation.

...

Inside the New York Sanctum.

Felicia, currently in her ragdoll cat form, nestled into a shadowy corner and peeked out cautiously. Her eyes tracked a group of kids who had just arrived—young, clearly shaken, but surprisingly well-behaved.

"Pietro," Wanda said softly, nudging her twin, "go let everyone know not to wander off or touch anything. This place isn’t exactly toddler-proof."

She glanced around the room and added, "That guy saved us. Let's not make things worse for him."

Pietro nodded and clapped his hands to get the kids' attention. "Alright, you heard her! Stay put, don’t mess with anything. We’ll wait right here until that guy shows up. Jenny, put that down. Seriously."

Felicia’s ears twitched. 

These kids were bruised, scarred, some even limping. Her feline mind whirled with questions.

Meow? she thought. 'Where did these kids come from? And who hurt them like this?'

Before she could process it further, she felt something tighten around her waist. 

Suddenly, she was airborne.

"Whoa! Look what I found!" Wanda exclaimed. "A cat!"

Felicia wriggled as Wanda hugged her close. 

Pietro strolled over at his sister’s call.

"Come here, Pietro. Doesn’t she look just like the ragdoll cat we had back home?"

Pietro raised a brow. "Wanda, didn’t you just tell everyone not to touch anything?"

Still, when he saw the snow-white cat with sapphire-blue eyes, his sarcasm faded. 

Memories returned—of a simpler time.

 A cozy home. Two happy siblings. Loving parents. And a cat just like this one.

Until that day.

Until the Stark missile tore their lives apart.

"Meow meow meow!~" Felicia cried out, squirming harder. 

She didn’t know their past, didn’t care. 

All she knew was—being manhandled wasn’t on her wish list.

"I don’t think she likes being held like that," Wanda said, gently lowering Felicia to the floor.

"Of course she doesn’t," said a calm voice from the doorway. "Because she’s not a cat."

Luke stepped in, his tone light but firm. 

Fresh from his clash with Baron Strucker, he’d wasted no time returning to the Sanctum.

"Huh?" Wanda blinked. "Not a cat?"

She turned to see Luke clearly for the first time—cleaned up, no blood, just a cool aura and those sharp, calm eyes.

 Now that she saw his face, she realized something.

He was young. And kind of handsome.

Wanda flushed slightly, remembering how she’d called 'Mister' earlier.

"S-Sorry about that..." she mumbled, glancing away.

Luke looked confused. "What’re you apologizing for?"

Pietro crossed his arms. "So... she’s not a cat? She’s a person?"

Luke grinned and snapped his fingers. "Bingo."

He pulled a small book from his belt titled Encyclopedia of Practical Magic for Beginners and flipped it open dramatically.

"Hmm... let’s see. Cut off the damned’s nose, drill holes with amethyst..."

"Take another caterpillar, put it into the ear of the cursed person, and let the caterpillar penetrate..."

Luke read aloud from his Encyclopedia of Practical Magic, his voice calm and unbothered, as if he were reading bedtime stories.

Felicia, still in her ragdoll cat form, froze in place. Her round, sky-blue eyes widened in panic, and fat tears rolled down her furry cheeks.

"Scared now? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before touching magical stuff," Luke teased casually.

"Meow meow meow!" she yowled, shaking her little head wildly.

Luke sighed and pulled out a card etched with exorcist runes. 

With a practiced hand, he traced a glowing pattern in the air and flicked the card toward her.

A burst of soft white light washed over the feline. 

In an instant, the spell broke—Felicia’s body shimmered and snapped back into her human form.

 She was back in her maid outfit… but still awkwardly crawling on all fours.

"Meow?—Bah! I mean, I’m going to clean up!"

Realizing she had nearly meowed again, Felicia’s face turned bright red.

 She scrambled upright and bolted down the hallway, clearly mortified.

Wanda watched the scene unfold in stunned silence. 

Her mouth opened, but all she managed was:

"She... her... her..."

She never finished the sentence.

Luke let out a small chuckle. "Just a little curse."

But then he paused, his gaze softening.

These kids… they'd been held by Hydra for who knows how long. 

Judging by their expressions, some probably didn’t even know what the Chitauri invasion was. 

They were cut off from the world—forgotten.

"Do you have anywhere to go?" Luke asked gently.

Wanda shook her head.

 Around the room, several children mirrored her action.

"Most of them are orphans," Pietro said quietly. "After the war in Sokovia, a lot of families didn’t make it. Hydra scooped up the strays. They were perfect test subjects."

Luke clenched his jaw. 

He’d almost called Coulson to arrange something… but SHIELD had become Snake Shield. 

It wasn’t safe.

Giving them back would be like handing them straight to Hydra again.

He looked at them—worn, scared, but with that spark.

 Potential.

"Do any of you want to learn magic?"

The room fell silent. 

Then whispers spread. Curious eyes lit up.

"Magic? Like what you just did?" one of the older boys asked.

"We do!" another shouted.

One by one, hands shot into the air. 

Even Wanda’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

She and Pietro had chosen to undergo Hydra’s experiments hoping to become something more.

 Now, here was a new path… one not built on torture.

Wanda hesitated, then took a step forward.

"Mr. Constantine?"

"Just call me Luke," he said with a calm smile.

"Um, can I… can we stay with you?"

Pietro blinked, clearly surprised. 

But when his sister made her choice, he followed without hesitation.

Luke looked at Wanda, then slowly narrowed his eyes,

He's feeling a slight intangible pressure from her, and his demonic energy was reacting to it.

His eyes widened in realization,

"Wait… your powers... they've awakened already?"

Wanda nodded, lifting her palm. 

A faint scarlet glow shimmered in her hand, swirling like smoke and stardust.

Chapter 27 MCE

Boom--!

Before Wanda could even react, a thunderous explosion erupted above the Hydra base.

"What the hell was that?!" Baron Strucker snapped, grabbing a nearby soldier.

The soldier looked just as confused, eyes darting toward the ceiling.

Moments later, a panicked voice came through the comms.

"The base has been breached!"

"Who is it? SHIELD? The Avengers?" Strucker barked, seizing the messenger.

"Neither, sir!" the soldier stammered, pale. "It's him—the one we were ordered to eliminate!"

BOOM--!

The reinforced steel door—meant to withstand nuclear shockwaves—was smashed open like paper.

Luke stepped through the wreckage.

Once a Cold War nuclear bunker, the Sokovia base was built to survive annihilation. 

But it couldn’t withstand him.

He could’ve used a portal. 

Or melted through with shadow energy. But instead—

"I just like breaking things the old-fashioned way," Luke muttered with a grin.

The Hydra soldiers on the other side froze.

For a split second, they didn’t see a man—they saw something else.

A monster. A demon made flesh.

More terrifying than anything from the Battle of New York.

"Sound the alarm! Call in the Shadow soldiers!"

"It’s the Demon Slayer! HE’S HERE!"

Laser fire erupted from their energy rifles—high-powered blue beams capable of melting steel.

But the blasts fizzled harmlessly against a glowing flame barrier around Luke, forged from demonic power.

"You guys make a lot of noise," Luke said casually. "Why not just throw a water balloon at me while you're at it?"

Without warning, he vanished into shadow.

Hydra soldiers barely had time to blink.

One moment they were scanning the hallway—

The next, darkness fell, pain exploded through their bodies—and silence.

Plop~ plop~

Bodies hit the floor like sacks of meat.

Blood pooled quickly, thick and metallic in the air.

Limbs torn. Heads crushed.

 The stench stronger than anything in the demon summoning chambers below.

"He's in!"

"Move! Get the Shadow soldiers—NOW!"

Luke heard the cries as he strode deeper into the base.

From the dark corners, shadow soldiers emerged.

Hydra’s summoned reinforcements.

"Oh, you wanna play summoner too?" Luke smirked, standing still.

He closed his eyes.

With a single thought, demonic energy surged through him.

Wave of shadows erupted from within him with a loud boom.

Darkness spread like wildfire.

An enormous shadow domain expanded outward, swallowing the entire base.

From the inky blackness, Luke’s own shadow soldiers emerged—far more numerous, far more deadly.

They came from every corner, every wall, every shadow.

And unlike Hydra’s puppets, these warriors were elite. Ancient. Brutal.

Hydra’s soldiers barely had time to curse.

"Fuck!"

They were cut down before the word left their lips.

One by one.

Ripped apart. Crushed. Devoured by the darkness.

The base was drowning in shadow.

...

The same chaos unfolded on every floor of the base.

Room by room, level by level, the Hydra facility in Sokovia was cleared out in a flash—emptied like a haunted shell.

The only ones left were the children kept for experiments, Wanda and Pietro in the sacrifice chamber... and Baron Strucker.

Luke had spared his life.

For now.

But Strucker wasn't free. Two shadow soldiers stood at his sides, blades pressed against his neck. He didn’t even flinch—not after what he’d just seen.

Moments earlier, he'd watched the men beside him get turned into meat chunks in seconds.

"That’s it? And they called this place a fortress?" Luke’s voice suddenly echoed as he stepped into the sacrifice room, black energy swirling in his hand.

He looked unimpressed, even a little annoyed.

"Talk about stingy."

As he spoke, the dark energy began to flow into his body, absorbed like fuel into a fire.

Baron Strucker turned, recognizing the intruder instantly.

No one in Hydra hadn’t heard of Luke—the man marked for death by a force even Hydra feared.

"I warned them," Strucker muttered under his breath. "Putting all our hopes into one basket... A mistake."

Luke didn’t care what he was babbling about.

"Go," he ordered calmly.

At his word, the shadow soldiers moved, fanning out to collect the blood of the fallen Hydra troops.

They brought it back to complete the summoning ritual etched into the center of the room.

Wanda, Pietro, and the rest of the imprisoned children sat frozen in fear.

It wasn’t until they noticed the shadow soldiers ignoring them that Wanda found the courage to speak.

"Um... thank you for saving us."

Luke waved dismissively, glancing over at the red-haired girl.

"Don’t mention it. Just cleaning house."

Then his eyes lingered on her for a second longer.

'Huh. She’s actually kinda cute.'

"What’s your name, woman?"

"Wanda Maximoff."

Luke's eyes widened, his head whipping toward her.

He then turned to the silver-haired boy next to her.

"And him?"

"He’s my brother—Pietro Maximoff."

Luke froze for a second.

'Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver? No way...'

He snapped his fingers, summoning a swirling flame portal with demonic energy.

"I'm Luke Constantine, listen up. This thing looks intense, but it won’t burn you. It’s a portal. It’ll take you somewhere safe. Just hang tight when you get there. I’ve got some loose ends to tie up here."

The kids hesitated, staring at the fire like it might bite.

But then Wanda stepped through.

Two seconds later, she returned through the flames.

"It’s safe. This Mr. Constantine is telling the truth. Come on."

The others followed, still wary. 

After all Hydra had done, trust didn’t come easy.

Luke didn’t mind.

'Caution’s smart. Blind trust gets you killed.'

But...

"Mr?" he muttered to himself, grimacing.

Wanda’s voice echoed in his head.

He wasn’t that much older than her. 

Maybe two, three years tops. Wanda looked around seventeen or eighteen—right at the edge of womanhood.

Mister? Really? That hurt.

"Do I look old?"

Luke wiped his face, finally noticing the blood splattered across it from the chaos earlier. 

His reflection, distorted in the mess, looked more monster than man.

He smirked. "Alright. For the sake of your pretty face, I’ll let it slide."

With a snap of his fingers, hellfire rose from his skin. 

The infernal flames danced and vaporized away the blood into red mist.

Then he turned to Baron Strucker, who was still pinned down by two shadow soldiers, their pitch black blades inches from his throat.

"I’m feeling generous," Luke said. "So here’s your chance."

He pointed toward the glowing summoning circle in the center of the sacrifice chamber.

"The ritual’s set. Go summon your Shadow God. Tell him your sob story."

With a flick of his hand, the shadow soldiers backed off, stepping aside and giving Strucker a clear path.

"You want me to summon the Shadow God?" Strucker asked, stunned. "So I can power up… and then fight you again?"

Luke gave a slow nod, folding his arms.

"Exactly. It’s all on you now. If you can beg hard enough, maybe you’ll get a power boost bigger than mine. Then who knows—you might actually have a shot."

He stepped back, leaving the stage open. "Go on. Show me what you’ve got. Don't be shy~"

Strucker stared, silent, then took a deep breath and walked toward the sacrificial room.

 His steps were heavy, every footfall laced with dread.

From outside the chamber, Luke felt the energy shift. 

The summoning had begun.

A grin tugged at his lips. "We meet again, old friend."

Inside, Baron Strucker dropped to his knees.

A towering shadow loomed before him, swirling like smoke with glowing crimson eyes.

"Great Shadow God," Strucker said desperately. "We found the one you want dead! But the power you gave him—it’s too much! We lost everything trying to stop him. We couldn’t even scratch him."

Outside, Luke leaned casually against the doorway, trying not to laugh.

"Damn," he chuckled. "This guy sucks up harder than I ever did."

Back inside, Strucker pressed his forehead to the ground.

"Please! Just give me something stronger than him. I don’t need much—just enough! I’ll kill him, I swear it! I’ll even stake my soul!"

The Shadow God—Shaco, didn’t look impressed. 

He’d handed out power to more people today than he cared to count—and none had delivered.

"Useless... every last one of you," he growled.

But after a moment, he relented. 

Just in case Strucker tried to run with the power again, the demon took a chunk of his soul first.

 Insurance.

Then everything went still.

And suddenly—wild laughter erupted from the chamber.

"Hahahahahaha… This power—it’s stronger than his?! Really?! Hah! I still can’t beat it! Hahahaha!"

Luke’s eyes lit up.

"It worked," he muttered. "For real?!"

A second later, he felt it.

 A massive surge of shadow energy. 

It wasn’t just equal to his—it was even greater.

"Well, well. Looks like the miser finally coughed up something real."

Luke’s gaze locked onto the doorway.

Baron Strucker stepped out, his body cloaked in thick demonic energy, darker and heavier than anything he had carried before.

Chapter 26 MCE

A particle beam shot down from the sky, slamming Pierce across the pavement like a ragdoll.

Then came a loud crash—Tony Stark landed in full Iron Man armor, the repulsors in his palms glowing hot and ready. He immediately aimed at Pierce, standing firm between him and Nick Fury.

"I tweaked the settings on the repulsor," Tony said coolly. "This blast could vaporize half your body. So, unless you want to test that, I’d stay very still."

After taking a hit in the last major battle, Tony had buried himself in the lab, working day and night. Every weapon system in the suit was now upgraded to the next level.

"Stark?" Fury's voice was hoarse, filled with disbelief. He hadn’t expected Tony to show up.

"Jarvis picked up an emergency signal from your ride’s AI," Tony replied with a smirk. "Also, I’m the engineer you cursed out last week. Not my best work, huh?"

He was half-joking. 

In reality, Tony had only guided the build.

 But he was here now, and that mattered more.

Just then, a quiet sigh drifted from the shadows. 

A new figure emerged—Luke, stepping out like he’d been there the whole time.

"Luke?!" Fury’s one good eye widened in surprise.

Tony turned, caught off guard. "When did you get here? Jarvis didn’t pick you up."

Luke gave a casual shrug. "Been here for a while. I was waiting to see if the walking pirate baldy over there was gonna kick the bucket. I was supposed to save him and then he's gonna owe me one... Tough luck."

Fury blinked. 

'Motherfucker's stealing my modus operandi.'

"He’s the Hydra mole," Fury quickly added, nodding toward the barely-standing Pierce. "I’m still the good guy here."

Luke wasn’t interested in Fury’s defense. 

He didn’t show up to play detective for S.H.I.E.L.D. He had his own reason.

"So," Luke said, stepping closer to Pierce, "you mentioned something earlier... The Shadow God told you to kill someone, right?"

Luke’s sharp gaze locked onto Pierce. 

He could sense the corrupted energy swimming through the man.

 It was the same foul power used by other fanatics before—twisted and unstable. Garbage, really.

"Is there a chance that... the target is me?"

Pierce didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. The silence confirmed it all.

The Shadow God had commanded it. 

Every Hydra cell had received the kill order: eliminate the blasphemer at all costs.

"Even if you stop me now," Pierce growled, "Hydra will still rise! Cut off one head, two more shall grow!"

He was bloodied, but his voice remained cold, full of old pride.

"And you—" Pierce glared at Luke. "The Shadow God has spoken! You’ll be hunted forever. Wherever you go, Hydra will find you. You can’t run."

Despite the threat, Luke just gave him a blank stare—like he was watching a delusional man ramble.

"Are you dumb or just a really confident idiot?" Luke scoffed. "If your so-called god’s that strong, why doesn’t it come kill me itself?"

He stepped in closer, mocking tone rising.

"Seriously, Shaco gave you a taste of power, and look at you becoming loyal like a fool, did he mess with your brain too? Want me to knight you or something?"

"Heh, stupid motherfucker~"

Without warning, Luke’s fist flew forward—slamming straight into Pierce’s skull.

Pierce didn’t even have time to react. One second he was standing there, and the next—his head burst like a watermelon. 

Blood, brain matter, and shards of skull sprayed in all directions like some gruesome firework display.

Luke stood over the body, shaking off his fist with a small flick. "Was that really the guy giving you so much trouble?" he said, glancing at Nick Fury with a smirk.

Fury winced at the sight. Luke’s power was unsettling, even for someone who’d seen gods and monsters.

While they were talking, a black mist began to rise from Pierce’s corpse.

 It swirled in the air like a lost spirit, hesitant and twitching, as if searching for someone to cling to.

"Hmm?" Luke raised an eyebrow.

He reached out casually, and the black energy was sucked into his palm.

[Ding!]

[Abnormal demonic energy detected!]

[Purification complete. Compatible energy absorbed into host.]

The Supreme Exorcist System’s voice echoed in Luke’s head. 

The corrupted power twisted for a second, then melted into his own demonic energy. 

It was now clean, stable, and completely his.

"Huh... I didn’t know I could do that," Luke muttered, watching his hands glow faintly. "So I can just take powers from people like that? Like a buffet?"

He chuckled to himself. "Big fish eats small fish, huh?"

Thinking back, Luke sighed. "If I knew this earlier, I wouldn’t have handed those Shadow Demon cultists over to Coulson. What a waste."

Still, Pierce’s energy wasn’t much. 

To Luke, it was like tossing a few drops of water into a massive ocean.

But hey, scraps still make a meal, right?

"Wait a second..." he suddenly froze.

"I just figured out how to exploit this. If I get blacklisted by these demon-worshipping weirdos, they'll keep sending people after me. I kill them, steal their power, and repeat?"

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face.

"Well done, Hydra. You’re basically handing me free upgrades."

The demonic aura around him shimmered.

"Hey, Baldy!" Luke called out, turning to Nick Fury. "Got any more Hydra bases for me to raid?"

Nick raised an eyebrow. "You know I'm the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., right? Why would I know—"

He paused.

Actually, he did know a few.

He reached into the pocket of Pierce’s jacket, grabbed the man's phone, and opened a secure app. 

A map popped up with several red-marked locations.

"These were all black-site bases Pierce built when he was running S.H.I.E.L.D. Very hush-hush. Not even I had full clearance."

Luke scrolled through them and nodded.

They matched the vague locations listed in his temple core—except now, he had precise coordinates.

"Luke," Tony said, stepping up beside him, "you ever think about joining us? Hydra's on our hit list too."

Luke gave him a look, then casually pointed a thumb at Nick Fury. "The last guy who tried to recruit me ended up like that."

Without another word, Luke opened a glowing red portal with a wave of his hand.

He stepped through and vanished.

Tony and Fury were left in silence.

"..."

"..."

That left Tony Stark and Nick Fury standing there, staring at each other in silence.

"So... what did you use to recruit him? Bribery? Blackmail? Some kind of beauty trap?" Tony finally asked, raising an eyebrow.

Fury shook his head calmly. "Just... sincerity."

Tony blinked. That answer clearly wasn’t what he expected.

"Sincerity," he repeated, almost tasting the word. Then he let out a long sigh. "I can't believe Nick Fury, a master spy and director of S.H.I.E.L.D., is capable of hiring someone with just sincerity. Remember when I found you in the dark, like some offshoot of Batman? Where's that man now?"

"Shut up, Stark."

Tony smirked as he helped Fury stand up....

...

Sokovia.

Hydra Division - Underground Base.

Deep beneath the earth, inside one of Hydra’s hidden facilities, an entire floor was lined with tiny, windowless rooms—each one no bigger than a closet.

Inside these rooms, teenagers sat or lay quietly, most of them exhausted, some terrified. 

A few rooms were already empty.

Among the remaining were Wanda and Pietro Maximoff—siblings, and the oldest of the group. 

But even they were barely adults.

"They took little Wick this morning. He hasn’t come back..." Pietro whispered, leaning against the bulletproof glass, his face pale with worry.

Over the past two days, more and more kids had been taken. 

None had returned.

 Before, the experiments were cruel—blood extractions, nerve tests, pain thresholds—but no one had died.

Now? Now it felt like no one was coming back at all.

"Wanda... what are we gonna do?"

From the next room over, Wanda met her brother’s eyes.

 Though Pietro had been born first, Wanda always insisted she was the older one.

"...I don’t know," she said, her voice soft, but unsure.

They had joined Hydra seeking revenge—angry at Tony Stark, whose weapons had destroyed their home. 

Hydra had promised them power.

But all they’d gotten was suffering.

"No. We can’t just wait to die in here," Wanda said, standing up, defiance growing in her eyes. "We have to—"

Before she could finish, a heavy metal door clanged open at the end of the hall.

A man in a long coat and a monocle stepped into view.

Baron Strucker.

He began reading names from a clipboard, his voice cold and clinical. "Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Charlie Wells, Anthony Shelliger..."

Wanda and Pietro froze.

They were on the list.

"No! Let me go! I want to go home—I want my mom!" a younger child screamed as soldiers unlocked doors and dragged the chosen ones out.

Wanda and Pietro didn’t resist. There was no point.

They followed the guards quietly, glancing at each other with worry.

But this time, they weren’t taken to the lab.

There were no doctors, no scanners, no machinery.

Just one strange room.

Blood covered everything—walls, floors, even the ceiling—painted in bizarre, twisting patterns.

The smell was thick, metallic. And unmistakable.

This wasn’t paint.

It was human blood.

"Begin," Strucker said flatly.

Hydra soldiers shoved the kids to their knees. Daggers were drawn. Buckets were prepared.

This wasn’t a blood test.

It was a ritual.

A sacrifice.

"PIETRO!!!" Wanda screamed, watching her brother pinned down, a knife pressed to his throat like he was an animal about to be slaughtered.

Her panic surged.

And with it, something inside her snapped.

Her eyes began to glow—bright red, wild, and furious.

Chapter 25 MCE

"..."

'System, is he really gone?'

It wasn't until Lucifer had completely vanished that Luke finally moved.

 First thing he did was ask the system in his mind.

Was that guy truly gone?

【No demonic presence detected. Lucifer has left this realm.】

Luke let out a long breath of relief. Then, the questions hit him all at once.

"System!"

"Why the hell did I summon that Lucifer?! The one from the DC Universe?!"

That’s right.

 What Luke had just summoned was none other than Lucifer Morningstar from DC—arguably the second most powerful being in that universe.

In Marvel terms? 

He was up there with the likes of the Living Tribunal or maybe even below the One Above All.

【Host did not specify which version of Lucifer to summon. System defaulted to random multiversal pull.】

The system’s message was brutally simple.

There were too many Lucifers across too many worlds.

 Since Luke hadn’t specified which one, the system had picked one at random.

"...How the fuck was I supposed to know you could pull demons from other universes?!"

Luke was pissed.

He thought his summoning was bound to the Marvel world. 

He never imagined that shouting a name would drag over someone from a totally different multiverse.

"System... You are insane."

Good thing Lucifer was chill. If he'd been in a bad mood, Luke might’ve been erased from existence.

"You’ve got powers like this and didn’t think to give me a heads-up?!"

【The host did not ask.】

"..."

"Don’t get mad. Just breathe. No one’s here to babysit you if you lose it."

Luke patted his chest and tried to calm down. 

Sure, things had gone way off script, but... the result wasn’t bad.

"The power of the Morningstar... something that can bring the dead back to life and have now technically made me an immortal."

He opened his palm. A thin strand of golden energy shimmered across it like a glowing thread.

It radiated a strange warmth—soft but powerful, pulsing with vitality.

According to Lucifer, this power would stay inside his body indefinitely unless used.

 As long as he kept it, he’d be immortal.

But if he chose to burn it, he could bring someone back from the dead.

"He really is a top-tier boss from another universe... definitely doesn’t hold back."

Luke smiled, letting the golden energy flow back into his chest.

This thing was priceless. 

He could save a life—or keep his own. 

It was like having a cosmic-level insurance policy.

……

After that unexpected encounter, Luke had zero interest in summoning anyone else for the time being.

He couldn’t risk it. 

Who knew what other dangerous personalities he might accidentally pull in next?

Honestly, this system was as unpredictable as it was powerful.

Whether it was exorcising or summoning—it followed its own rules.

"Looks like next time I summon someone... I’ll need to write down their full name, dimension ID, and multiversal address."

Shaking his head, Luke stepped out of the mirror space.

"Meow meow meow!"

A fluffy white ragdoll cat with silky fur bolted toward him the second he emerged, letting out a series of impatient meows.

"Huh?"

Luke froze.

He didn’t remember there being cats at the Sanctum Sanctorum in New York.

"Felicia?"

"Meow meow!"

"It really is you! Hahahaha! Didn’t I tell you not to mess with any of the stuff in there?"

The ragdoll cat nodded like a guilty child. 

Luke couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

After catching his breath, he scooped her up.

"Meow meow meow meow!"

Felicia squirmed like crazy, trying to escape his arms—but Luke held on tight, grinning.

"Oops, why do you look way better like this than before?"

"You know what? Maybe you should just stay this way. Being a cat sounds pretty chill. I’ll even feed you catnip every day."

Luke smirked as he teased the fluffy white Ragdoll cat in his arms.

The cat’s eyes filled with tears, and its soft body trembled. 

Clearly, it was traumatized by Luke’s so-called kindness.

"Alright, alright. I’ll stop messing with you," Luke said, chuckling. "I’ll figure out how to fix this..."

Before he could finish that sentence, the core of the Sanctum Sanctorum—an orb-like device hovering midair—suddenly lit up with a bright pulse.

A strange wave of familiar energy rippled out from it.

"Shadow Demon?" Luke's expression turned sharp.

He gently set Felicia down and turned toward the glowing orb. 

Several beams of light shot out, marking points all over the globe—one nearby in New York, others as far as Europe and across the world.

"No way… are people really summoning Shadow Demons in all these places? At the same time?"

Luke’s brows furrowed. 

He recognized the signature—this was the same dark energy he used when summoning Shaco himself. 

But now it was happening everywhere.

"Guess I better go check it out."

He raised a hand, and a ring of shadow energy circled under his feet. 

With a pulse of power, he vanished into the darkness.

"Meow?"

Felicia, still in her fluffy Ragdoll cat form, blinked up at the empty space where Luke stood.

"Meow meow meow?!"

Her expression said it all—Really, bro? You're just gonna leave me like this?

—

Somewhere between New York and Washington D.C., Nick Fury’s black SUV thundered down a narrow road, tires screeching.

Behind him, a swarm of police cruisers gave chase, bullets pinging off his bulletproof vehicle. Overhead, a chopper laid down suppressive fire.

"Vehicle hull integrity: 70%... 60%... 50%..."

The onboard AI’s voice droned out status reports like a countdown to disaster.

Fury grit his teeth. "Engage flight mode!"

"Flight mode malfunction."

"Activate countermeasures!"

"Weapons system damaged."

"Then autopilot, now!"

"Autopilot system failure."

Fury’s face darkened. "Then connect me to Agent Hill. And don’t even tell me the comms are fried too."

Finally, a bit of luck—this time, the AI responded positively, and the feed connected.

"Director? What the hell is going on?! We lost contact with HQ!" Maria Hill’s confused voice cut through.

"Hill, listen to me carefully! Get everyone off the Helicarrier—SHIELD’s been compromised. Hydra is inside. Alexander Pierce is the traitor! They’re trying to take over everything. I barely made it out!"

"What? Say that again—I can't hear you clearly! We’re under attack by unknown forces! There’s a firefight on the bridge, we’re—!"

Gunfire erupted in the background on her end.

"Hill!? Hill, respond!" Fury yelled.

But all he heard was more gunshots. His blood ran cold.

"Damn it!"

He slammed the comms shut and looked up—only to find someone blocking the road ahead.

It was Alexander Pierce.

—

Alexander Pierce.

The former director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

He wasn’t just a colleague to Nick Fury—he was his mentor, a trusted friend, someone who once shaped the path of S.H.I.E.L.D. itself. 

If it weren’t for Pierce pulling strings behind the curtain, Fury may never have made it to the top.

Now, in his sixties and supposed to be enjoying retirement, Pierce stood in the middle of the road, arms wide open like he was greeting an old friend.

Buzz—!

Nick Fury slammed his foot on the gas.

 No hesitation. He pushed the accelerator to the floor, eyes locked ahead.

The man in his path? A traitor.

Pierce wasn’t just an ex-director.

 He was Hydra—a high-ranking member—and Fury had just stumbled upon their newest plan: harnessing the power of an ancient evil god through human sacrifice.

"I'm sorry, Fury," Pierce said calmly, voice echoing through the noise. "You could’ve witnessed a better world. A world under Hydra’s rule. No chaos, no war. Just order."

Even as the vehicle barreled toward him, Pierce didn’t flinch. 

In fact, he stepped forward, calmly, like he was walking into history.

Then he raised one hand.

All at once, shadows around the area surged inward—sliding like liquid, twisting through the cracks of reality. 

They merged together and formed a long, dark spear in Pierce’s grasp.

"Fury," he said with a smirk, "you have no idea what kind of power we’ve unlocked."

He hurled the spear.

The dark weapon sliced through the air and struck Fury’s armored vehicle dead-on. 

It didn’t bounce off or shatter—it pierced.

 Straight through the windshield, cutting down into the chassis and pinning the car to the asphalt.

BOOM!

The vehicle screeched to a stop. Fury’s head slammed against the dashboard. Dazed, nearly unconscious.

Screeeak—

Pierce approached. Calm. Unhurried.

 He ripped the driver’s side door off its hinges like it was paper. 

He reached in, grabbed Fury by the jacket, and dragged him out before tossing him onto the cold ground.

"Look at me, Fury. This is the power the Shadow God has given us."

He spread his arms, laughing—a manic, unhinged sound, like a man who'd waited years to let go.

Then he leaned down, eyes sharp.

"Hydra’s rise is inevitable. Come with me, Fury. You don’t have to fight it."

Fury coughed, blood on his lip, vision blurry—but his mind was still sharp.

"So what’s the cost, Pierce? That power you’re bragging about—what did it cost?"

"Cost?" Pierce scoffed. "Just a little blood. One life. Nothing worth crying over."

Fury spit on the ground.

"There’s no such thing as free power. And you know it."

But Pierce wasn’t listening. 

He was already summoning another shadow spear, darker and larger than the last.

"You’ll be remembered, Fury. Your funeral will be grand."

The spear was raised—just about to fall—

BOOM!

Chapter 24 MCE

He also heard the scream echoing from the Sanctum behind him—but he didn’t even flinch.

"Didn’t expect the Cloak to have a sense of humor," Luke muttered with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He shut the dimensional portal behind him with a flick of his hand, sealing both the Sanctum and the Rotunda of Gateways tight.

Felicia Hardy, currently trapped in there with only a broom, wasn’t going anywhere—no matter how loud she screamed.

Not without his say-so.

"She’ll live. Probably," he added under his breath.

Felicia had been testing his patience ever since she arrived, so this was just a little lesson.

A harmless bit of payback. Mostly.

Luke stepped into the inner sanctum of the Temple, the demonic energy within him humming in response to the mystical air around him.

His eyes settled on the core of the Sanctum—a massive, slowly rotating orb floating mid-air like a globe of stars. Peaceful. Still.

The lights swirling inside it showed no signs of unusual activity. Another quiet day.

"Good."

He turned and walked into a chamber on the left—an isolated pocket of mirror dimension carved out for training and observation.

The moment he entered, reflections wrapped around him. Shattered glass walls shimmered with fragments of the real world. Like a kaleidoscope made of reality itself.

One shard showed Felicia skittering away from the Cloak of Levitation.

Another displayed... a slightly more awkward angle.

"Ahem."

Luke cleared his throat and quickly shifted his gaze.

"This room’s... efficient," he muttered.

It let him see everything within and beyond the Temple.

And being inside the Mirror Dimension means nothing that happened inside affected the real world.

He could rip this place apart during training, and no one outside would notice.

"Way better than being in Makalu," he said, smirking.

He pulled out a small leather-bound notebook from his belt and began flipping through pages marked with runes and old ink.

"Shadow Demon, summoned... Check."

"Limbo demons have officially blacklisted me..."

Luke frowned.

The book was an ancient one—gifted by the Ancient One herself—and within it were names, symbols, and dimensional coordinates.

He wasn’t doing random summoning anymore.

Not since he realized the system's limits

Now he had a checklist.

Strong? Absolutely.

Controlled? Hopefully.

And above all—interested in him.

Whether it was his soul, his power, or some twisted sense of curiosity, demons needed a hook. Otherwise, there was no bargaining chip, no deal, and no leverage.

"Demons from Hell at least like to play by the rules," he said, flipping a page. "Contracts, deals, and they hate it when loopholes are used on them, but they love it when they're the ones using them."

Luke had actually found them easier to trick compared to other beings of chaos.

Unfortunately, they’d blacklisted him too.

"Wait a sec..."

His fingers stopped flipping.

"Why am I limiting myself to one hell?"

His mind flashed back to something he read in the Kamar-Taj archives—the Book of Hell.

There wasn’t just Limbo.

There were layers. Versions.

Belasco’s Limbo was one.

But there was also Mephisto’s Hell. Hades’ underworld. Surtur's Muspelheim. Even Hela’s Hel—all distinct dimensions with their own laws and lords.

According to the records in the "Book of Hell," there was once only one Hell—a complete, unified dimension.

Back then, it wasn’t the chaotic mess of realms it is now. It was a single, solid plane of existence.

A true dimension.

But something happened.

No one knows exactly what or why, but that single dimension fractured, breaking into countless smaller hells.

These shattered fragments were later claimed by various Hell Lords.

Sure, they all carry the title of 'lord,' but let’s not get it twisted—they’re not all on the same level.

Some of these so-called Hell Lords aren’t even on par with Marvel’s cosmic beings like the Celestials.

Others, though... some have reached power levels rivaling entire universes, maybe even multiple universes.

The key difference? Mastery over their respective dimensions.

"Hold on a sec," Luke muttered to himself.

"If the 'dimensional barrier' the Ancient One talked about is real... then what if I absorbed the power from all of these hell dimensions? Could I merge them? Restore the original, unified Hell?"

The thought hit him like a lightning bolt.

Luke, a man with access to demonic energy and powers, had already begun manipulating otherworldly forces thanks to his system.

According to what the Ancient One had said, gathering the energy of a specific dimension weakens the barriers between worlds.

So, if Luke could absorb power from each fragment of Hell and unify them within himself, maybe—just maybe—he could tear down those dimensional walls and fuse the fragments back together.

It was a long shot, sure. But it wasn’t impossible.

"No, no, I’m getting ahead of myself," he sighed. "Let’s just try summoning one of them first."

With a smirk, Luke mentally listed his targets: Lucifer, Mephisto, Hades, Hela...

"Alright then. Let’s go with you. I summon you—Hela!"

The moment the words left his mouth, the system activated.

In the middle of the mirror dimension where he stood, a crack split open in the air.

A green glow seeped through the gap.

Luke squinted toward the rift, his demonic energy instinctively flaring up in defense.

A shadowy figure stepped out—tall, regal, and covered in tattered Asgardian battle armor that barely clung to her form.

"Hela?" Luke asked cautiously.

She didn’t respond. Just stared at him from the edge of the portal, studying him.

Then, she spoke.

"Is Odin dead?"

Luke blinked, thrown off. "Uh... as far as I know, no."

Without another word, Hela turned and stepped back into the rift.

The crack began to close behind her.

"Don't summon me again until he is."

Snap.

The crack sealed shut, leaving Luke standing in awkward silence.

"Well... damn," he muttered. "That was cold."

Shrugging off the rejection, Luke shook his head and reset.

"Okay. Next up... Lucifer. I summon you!"

BOOM!

A thunderous blast echoed through the space.

And then—nothing.

"What the—? Did it fail again?" Luke frowned, confused.

He paused, wondering if some demon from Limbo Hell had been badmouthing him to the others.

Just as he prepared to summon another Hell Lord...

Suddenly, a voice echoed through the mirror dimension—smooth, warm, almost comforting.

"Human, are you looking for me?"

Luke jumped, spinning around. Somehow, without him noticing, a man had appeared behind him.

He was tall, flawless, with golden blond hair and sharp, symmetrical features.

Even Luke, who wasn’t the type to care about looks, had to admit—this guy was stupidly handsome.

Not a single flaw.

"Wait... isn’t Lucifer supposed to be a red demon with horns or something?" Luke thought, confused. That’s what the Book of Hell described, complete with an illustration.

But the man in front of him looked nothing like that.

"Are you... Lucifer?" Luke asked, a bit uncertain.

The blond man chuckled lightly. "You summon me and then ask who I am?"

He began strolling casually around the mirror dimension, his steps slow and deliberate, eyes scanning his surroundings.

"Hmm... interesting. This world is... fascinating."

As he walked, he began to murmur names—each one heavier than the last.

"Eternity... Infinity... Oblivion... Phoenix Force... Death..."

Then, even more chilling ones: "Infinity Stones... the Living Tribunal..."

He stopped walking and turned, eyes locking onto Luke’s.

A soft smile played on his lips, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Luke stood frozen.

His gut told him something was off—way off.

This wasn’t the Lucifer described in the Book of Hell. Not even close.

"Thanks for the invite," the man finally said. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lucifer... Lucifer Morningstar."

His voice was smooth, warm like morning light—but something about it made Luke uneasy.

Without saying a word, Luke reached into his coat and slipped out a stack of enchantment cards, fingers twitching with quiet intent.

"Relax," Lucifer said with a smirk, clearly aware of Luke’s move. "I’ll leave on my own. No need for you to get jumpy. Daddy dearest—well, God, let’s just say He’s got eyes everywhere."

He gave a long sigh before continuing. "I already have a good idea why you summoned me. Unfortunately... I have nothing to offer you for a trade."

He paused—then added with a glint in his eye, "But... as thanks for the invitation, let me offer a very small gift."

Lucifer raised one hand and tapped the air. A golden beam of energy shot forward and gently struck Luke in the chest.

【Ding!】

【Abnormal energy detected!】

【The system has successfully purified the incoming energy!】

Luke blinked. His body tingled for a moment.

"Oh?" Lucifer said, raising an eyebrow. "Seems like you’ve got more going on than I thought. How curious."

He smiled, this time with genuine amusement.

"What I gave you is a fragment of my Morningstar Power. Some call it 'God's Will,' though I’ve never liked that name. It’ll keep you alive... basically forever."

He paused, then added, "Of course, you don’t have to use it on yourself. You could spend it to bring back a few friends... or some ghosts. Your choice."

As Lucifer spoke his final words, his body began to dissolve—fading out slowly like ash in the wind.

"Luke, right? I look forward to our next meeting."

And with that, Lucifer Morningstar vanished completely from the mirror dimension.

Chapter 23 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist

Not a second later, the call was successfully transferred.

"Explain," said a calm, commanding voice on the other end of the line. The kind of tone that didn’t waste a single word—and didn’t tolerate any nonsense.

"Sir, Agent Coulson made contact with the target today. He brought back three individuals," Agent Grant Ward reported. "All of them displayed the same ability as the target—shadow manipulation."

There was a short pause.

"What’s your point?" the voice responded, but now with a faint tone of curiosity.

"Sir, I believe this power can be replicated," Ward said. His voice lowered slightly, as if he was revealing a classified secret. "According to our interrogation, these individuals gained their powers by summoning a being known as the 'God of Shadows'—through a blood-drawn totem."

There was silence on the line.

Then came a more animated tone. "Are you certain? And what about Luke? Did he also gain his abilities this way?"

"Almost certainly," Ward replied. 

"We recovered a similar blood totem at a warehouse in Port Jefferson. We believe that’s where he first made contact and gained access to that power. I also suspect the strength of the powers granted is directly related to the size of the totem. The larger the ritual... the greater the power. Which explains why Luke is far more powerful than the others."

Heavy breathing came from the other end.

"Excellent... Excellent work! This is huge, Agent!" the voice said, no longer trying to hide its excitement. "Nick Fury is still out there trying to recruit this guy, but we’ve already figured out where his power comes from!"

"With this knowledge, we can create an entire army of shadow-powered soldiers. Just like him. Maybe stronger."

"And once that happens... we won't need to stay hidden anymore."

"Every head of Hydra will rise from the shadows."

"Hail Hydra."

"Hail Hydra," Ward responded solemnly.

……

At the same time, while Hydra’s hidden operatives moved in secret, Luke had returned home.

He placed the dimensional doorway—one of the Rotunda of Gateways—against one wall in his apartment, watching the frame pulse faintly with residual energy. 

As he stepped back to admire his setup, the doorbell rang.

He opened the door and was surprised to find Kingpin standing there, dressed sharply, flanked by a quiet, polite man with glasses—likely his lawyer or assistant. 

Both of them carried two heavy-looking suitcases.

"Sir," Kingpin said, bowing his head respectfully the moment he saw Luke. The once-feared crime boss now stood humbly like a servant.

"Come in," Luke said, stepping aside.

The two men entered quickly. 

Without needing instruction, they found a spot in the living room and gently placed the suitcases down.

 Kingpin took care to align the cases perfectly, as if worried any mistake might offend his host.

"Ten million dollars," Kingpin said, opening one of the cases to show crisp stacks of bills. "Plus some valuable jewelry."

He reached into his pocket and produced a rolled-up document.

"Also... I heard you were renting this apartment. I took the liberty of purchasing it for you. You now own it. The deed is in your name."

He handed over the property certificate and continued carefully, "And don’t worry about property taxes. I’ll cover those every year."

As he spoke, Kingpin kept glancing up at Luke, trying to read his reaction,

Seeing that Luke had no objections, Kingpin carefully placed the property deed on the table.

"..."

Luke remained quiet for a moment before he finally spoke. His tone was flat, but carried weight.

"We agreed on a million a month. So what’s with the ten million upfront?" he asked, eyeing the suitcases. "You trying to get me to do something extra for you?"

"Of course not," Kingpin replied quickly, forcing a stiff smile. "This is just a small gesture. A token of gratitude. Please accept it."

He tried to sound calm, but Luke could tell he was nervous. 

Kingpin had seen glimpses of the Second Battle of New York—the one where a mysterious figure fought off demon-possessed creatures with terrifying power. 

Others didn’t know who that was, but Kingpin did. The 'Demon Slayer' was Luke.

In a world like Marvel's, filled with gods, mutants, and monsters, only the truly smart survived. And Kingpin? He knew exactly who not to mess with.

"You really know how to play both sides, huh, Fisk?" Luke said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I’ll be honest with you. The only reason I didn’t erase you earlier was because I thought you might still be useful."

He paused, letting those words hang in the air.

Luke had considered using Kingpin as part of a demonic summoning—maybe as a sacrifice. 

But now, with the system's upgrade, he no longer needed rituals or offerings. The demons came at his call.

"But now... I don’t really have a reason to keep you around, do I?"

Kingpin’s face twitched slightly. Panic set in.

"Wesley," he said quickly to his assistant, "wait outside."

As soon as Wesley left, Kingpin dropped to his knees with a loud thud.

"Demon Slayer, there were too many eyes out there. Let me show my respect properly now."

"???"

Luke blinked, caught off guard.

This man...

You could say he had no dignity—groveling like that. 

But then again, he was smart enough to dismiss his assistant before doing it. 

Maybe that was the trick all along.

Luke suddenly remembered something Kingpin had once said in a warehouse: "What do you think I relied on to climb this high?"

Now he knew.

One word: Patience.

Kingpin lowered his head, his voice steady but low. "I don’t beg often. But I know power when I see it. Let me be of use to you. My resources, my network—they’re yours. You won't hear a complaint from me. I only ask for your mercy."

He knocked his massive head against the floor. 

With his size, it looked like a mountain bowing to a god.

"..."

Watching this scene unfold, Luke couldn’t help but laugh a little. 

He hadn’t planned to deal with Kingpin anymore. 

But here he was, kneeling like a dog.

"Alright, get up," Luke finally said. "I’m not interested in your business."

He waved a hand dismissively.

"If you really want to help, just send money. Set up a card and wire some cash every now and then."

Luke wasn’t looking for new allies. Especially not ones with baggage like Fisk.

They were adults, after all.

A healthy distance with a steady cash flow? That worked just fine.

"Oh, one more thing," Luke added, glancing around at the mess in his apartment. 

"Find me a couple of cleaners."

This place—and the New York Temple—were both his current place of residence. 

Luke don’t have time to sweep floors, hiring someone to clean it from time to time would be a huge help.

The next day.

Luke stood at the edge of the living room, arms crossed, eyeing the two "cleaners" Kingpin had sent his way.

He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

"Is this guy serious...?"

The first cleaner: Elektra Natchios. Former assassin for the Hand.

The second: Felicia Hardy. 

Better known as Black Cat—infamous thief, top-tier seductress, and once ranked higher than Black Widow on the Marvel comic book 'hot lists'.

Luke narrowed his eyes. Neither of them looked like they’d ever held a mop for honest work.

And yet, here they were.

Whatever Fisk had promised them—or threatened them with—had apparently worked. 

Both women were present, dressed... quite differently.

Felicia, in particular, was wearing a fitted maid outfit that left little to the imagination. 

She walked over, hips swaying, holding a feather duster like it was a prop from a burlesque show.

"Sir, the house is spotless," she purred, a playful grin dancing on her lips. "Is there anywhere else you’d like me to... tidy up?"

Her gaze lingered on Luke.

Luke sighed.

"Yeah."

He knew exactly what she was doing—and didn’t care to play along. Her partner, Elektra, was the total opposite. 

No costumes, no flirting. Just quiet efficiency. She moved like someone who could kill you with a spoon—and wouldn’t say a word while doing it.

"You like cleaning? Good. Follow me," Luke said to Felicia, turning toward a peculiar door in the hallway.

The door looked like it belonged to another world. 

The ornate symbols etched into it glowed faintly, and the image carved into the wood matched the New York Sanctum.

Felicia had clearly noticed it before. 

So had Elektra. But they hadn’t dared approach it—probably because Kingpin had warned them not to meddle much.

Luke opened the door without hesitation.

"Let’s go."

Without waiting for a reply, he stepped through.

 Felicia hesitated, then followed.

In the blink of an eye, they were inside the Sanctum’s main hall.

It was quiet, mystical, and filled with ancient energy. 

The kind of place you didn’t want to trip over the wrong object in.

"Every tile. Every window. Clean it all," Luke instructed. 

"And don’t touch anything in the display cases. If you set something off, I’m not babysitting you. Some of those things turn people into... weird stuff. Like frogs. Or worse."

Felicia’s smug look faltered slightly. 

Luke gave her a light shove into the room.

"You’ll be fine. Probably."

Then he turned and vanished.

Felicia stood frozen in the middle of the hall, broom in one hand, dustpan in the other.

 Around her were ancient masks, strange relics, bones strung like wind chimes, and statues that seemed to watch.

"Okay... magician's world. Totally normal. This isn't creepy at all," she muttered.

Despite herself, she started moving—on tiptoe, like a cat burglar casing a museum.

She neared a glass display case and peered inside.

"Huh...?"

Inside was a red cloak, folded and floating mid-air, with no visible strings or hangers.

"How is this even hanging...?"

She leaned in closer, nose practically touching the glass. Her breath fogged up the surface.

Suddenly—tap!

A corner of the cloak curled up into a little fist and knocked on the glass from the inside.

Felicia jumped three feet in the air.

"AAAAHHHHHH!"

The scream echoed through the Sanctum.

…

Meanwhile, Luke stood at the temple entrance, calmly sipping his coffee, completely unfazed.

Chapter 22 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist

"If demons show up again, you'll handle it," the Ancient One said, her voice calm and confident.

"It’s a simple sigil for someone like you. Quick draw, done. Nothing too tricky,"

She paused, then glanced sideways at Luke, her tone shifting.

"But have you ever thought about this... what happens if the barrier between our dimension and theirs completely breaks down?"

Luke tilted his head, brows furrowing.

"What do you mean?"

"The more energy you absorb, the stronger your connection to that other world becomes," she explained. "The dimensional wall gets weaker every time. Eventually... the two worlds could merge."

Luke's heart skipped a beat.

"Merged? Like permanently?"

"Yes," she nodded. "And when that happens... will you still be able to evict them?"

Her words hit like a thunderclap. Luke's eyes widened. That possibility had never crossed his mind.

"System," he called out in his thoughts. "If a demon becomes a native creature of this world... is it still considered evil?"

[No.]

The system’s response came fast and clear.

[Only entities from outside this dimension are labeled as evil. Native beings—like Thanos and the others—cannot be exorcised. They belong to this world.]

Luke swallowed hard.

"So... if they settle in, there's no way to send them back?"

[Correct. The concept of exorcism relies on the target having a place to return to. Once they become local... there’s nowhere to send them.]

"Wait a sec..." Luke muttered, eyes narrowing. "My powers... they’re not just demonic anymore."

His mind flashed back to the Shadow Demon Shaco—the one who almost fused with him. That wasn’t just any energy. It was something more.

"That's your issue to sort out," the Ancient One said, reading his expression.

"But I assume, now that you understand what’s at stake, you’ll be a bit more careful with how you use your powers."

Her earlier sternness faded, replaced with a faint smirk.

She could tell the warning had landed.

"Relax," she added, more gently. "We’re still far from that worst-case scenario. You’ve got time to figure things out."

With a wave of her hand, a golden portal shimmered open beside them.

"Come. I want to show you something."

Luke followed her through the glowing doorway and stepped into the core chamber of the New York Sanctum.

At the center stood a massive floating sphere—like a globe, etched with intricate magical sigils and glowing with thousands of tiny golden dots, all constantly shifting.

"This," the Ancient One said, gesturing toward it, "is the heart of the temple. A relic left behind by Agamotto himself. It tracks all magical disturbances on Earth in real time."

She placed a hand gently on the sphere.

"If another dimensional invasion happens, this will detect it before anyone else does. You'll have plenty of time to act."

Luke’s eyes widened. He stared at the glowing orb in awe.

"Whoa... yeah, this thing’s amazing."

"From this moment on," she said, turning to face him, "you are the temporary guardian of the New York Sanctum."

"Wait—what?!" Luke nearly stumbled. "You’re kidding, right?"

"It’s only for now," she assured him. "Until Master Daniel recovers. Then you can decide if you want to stay."

Before he could protest, she snapped her fingers.

A tattered black cloak appeared in the air, hovering between them. 

"This is the cloak I promised you earlier," she said with a wry smile.

Luke stared at the thing. 

It looked more like a ripped-up curtain than something magical.

He opened his mouth to refuse—but the cloak moved on its own, flying straight onto his back.

As soon as it touched him, thick black tendrils of energy erupted from its torn edges.

The cloak repaired itself in seconds, and the dark aura spread through the air like a living shadow.

A wave of evil energy surged around him.

Luke’s entire appearance shifted—his clothes, his stance, even his expression. 

It all changed.

He didn’t just look powerful.

He looked like a frickin' villain.

"What... what is this thing?" Luke stared at his reflection, frowning.

He looked like a villain straight out of a dark alternate Marvel timeline—his aura radiated malice, and the black cloak clinging to him gave serious Dark Dimension vibes.

"I look like some bootleg Dormammu’s understudy," he muttered. "Even Satan would offer me a smoke out of respect."

The cloak swirled ominously around him, pulsing with thick, dark energy. It wasn’t just tattered—it moved like it had a will of its own.

"Nah, this is killing my whole vibe," Luke grumbled.

But the second he said it, the cloak shifted. 

All the black tendrils and the ominous energy faded away like mist in sunlight. 

The aura vanished. 

The cloak remained, but now it looked freshly restored—sleek, regal, and eerily similar in design to Doctor Strange’s Cloak of Levitation… except this one was pitch black.

The Ancient One watched calmly.

"This is the Cloak of the Great Shadow," she said, her voice softer, more reverent. "You might think it’s a copy of the Cloak of Levitation… but it's actually the original. The Cloak of Levitation was inspired by this."

Luke blinked. "Wait, for real?"

Ancient One looked at Luke's form, a rare flicker of seriousness in her eyes.

"The original owner of this cloak wasn’t someone you just name-drop lightly. They called him He Who Holds the Darkness. And this cloak? It’s only a piece of what he wore—just a fragment. But even that fragment became a relic all its own." she added, grim in her voice, 

Luke gave the cloak another skeptical tug. "So what's it actually do? Other than making me look like a final boss?"

The Ancient One raised an eyebrow. "Find out for yourself. It can do everything the Cloak of Levitation can... and more."

Luke rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. The cloak had already proven itself creepy, at the very least.

The Ancient One could see Luke still looked unimpressed. She sighed, half amused.

'This boy... doesn't believe anything unless he sees it with his own eyes,' she thought. 'He probably thinks the gifts I’ve given him are too little.'

"I might need to rethink leaving the New York Sanctum in your hands," she said aloud, half-jokingly.

Luke shot her a look, about to reply—until she silently produced a leather belt.

He blinked. "Uh... are we about to duel or something?"

She smirked and handed it to him. 

"Simon Toth’s Space Belt. Enchanted storage space inside. Also allows for instant teleportation—no sling ring needed."

Before she could finish, Luke had already strapped it on.

"Protecting the reality is my solemn duty!" he declared dramatically, hand on his chest. "If you’re trusting the Sanctum to me, you’ve got nothing to worry about, Master!"

The Ancient One gave a knowing smile but said nothing.

She simply handed over the key to the New York Sanctum.

Then, without fanfare, she turned and stepped through a glowing portal.

Luke stood in the Sanctum’s quiet halls, the key heavy in his palm.

"I just stepped out for a quick visit, and now I’m a guardianm, shit went from 0 to 100 real quick..." he muttered, staring dazingly at the sanctum he was now in charge of protecting.

He stared down at the key, the reality of it settling in.

Everything had happened way too fast.

But still… he wasn’t mad about it.

The Ancient One had given him a lot. And that conversation about the dimensional barrier? 

It wasn’t just some lecture. It had cracked something open inside him—a realization.

His system, wasn’t flawless.

It had rules. Limits.

As long as something's marked as an extradimensional entity, no matter how strong it is, it gets expelled.

But whether it's Belasco's twisted arrogance or the Ancient One's warning, one thing's clear—just having the system isn’t enough.

It’s like forging iron. You have to be strong yourself.

Sure, the Supreme Exorcist System can force demons out, but it doesn’t solve the root of the problem.

"In the end, it still comes down to power."

"Against beings that rank just below the cosmic entities—the Celestials, the Living Tribunal, or even dimensional lords—"

"Without power, you’ve got no say."

Luke still remembers what Belasco sneered at him—"If I kill you, your soul’s mine."

That’s the brutal truth of overwhelming power.

They don’t talk. 

They don’t negotiate.

You want to make deals? Forget about equality.

If you’re just an ant, those top-tier beings are the boots.

"Otherwise, it'll turn into something like Strange’s bargaining tactics."

Luke couldn’t help but think about Doctor Strange’s standoff with Dormammu in the movie.

Was that really a negotiation?

Not really. 

Dormammu just got tired of killing him over and over again. 

If Dormammu hadn’t gotten bored, who knows how many more times Strange would’ve died?

"But luckily, I’m not Strange,"

"Dormammu can’t kill me."

Luke reached into his pocket.

Ever since he almost summoned Quagus by accident last time, Luke had been carrying around a whole deck of ritual cards.

Each one etched with its own exorcism pattern.

From hell lords to multidimensional fiends, he had one for each.

"I just need to take it slow. As long as I don’t go poking the big bosses, I think I’ll be fine."

He had thought things through by now.

All that talk from the Ancient One about dimensional rifts and merging worlds? Probably just a scare tactic.

If it was really that bad, that bald sorcerer wouldn’t have peaced out so casually.

"No way I’m the guy who’s supposed to handle that mess..."

"She totally tricked me into being the guardian of the New York Sanctum."

Luke rubbed his chin.

If he remembered right, the Sanctum was the first place Kaecilius hit in the movie... and yeah, this was it.

He looked down at the stairs.

The previous guardian, Master Daniel, definitely got wrecked right on this spot.

"Great. Just great."

Snapping out of his thoughts, Luke glanced around the hall, packed with enchanted artifacts.

A wicked idea sparked in his head.

"Since I’m the new guardian, does that mean... all this gear is mine now?"

His eyes lit up.

First thing he locked onto were the three Rotunda of Gateways from the Doctor Strange movie.

Just twist the circular thingy, and boom—you can be anywhere on Earth.

Yeah, teleportation spells can do the same, but those doors? Way cooler.

You can literally see the other side through them before stepping in.

"Gotta take one. Bring it back to the crib."

"That way I can bounce between spots whenever I want."

Decision made, Luke picked up one of the doors. With his other hand, he tapped the space belt around his waist.

A flash of light.

The entire door vanished into the storage’ belt.

"Man, having storage relic is the best."

…………

At the same time Luke was casually raiding the New York Sanctum...

Elsewhere, in Coulson’s special ops squad, Agent Grant Ward slipped away from the group.

He found a secluded spot and pulled out a secure phone.

"I have something urgent to report."

"It might be the key to our entire operation’s success!"

Chapter 21 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist

Large-scale netizens meet offline.

After a quick phone call, Luke finally met the so-called 'Bald Baby'—Agent Coulson.

"I’ve taken them in," Coulson said calmly. "I’ll send over the bounty later."

Soon after, Coulson’s SHIELD team arrived and escorted the three shadow cultists from Luke’s garage.

 As for that reward money? It wasn’t really the point. Just a convenient excuse to wire over some cash.

SHIELD's profile on Luke made one thing clear—aside from gaming, the guy really liked money. 

So, if bribing with a few bucks helped keep the relationship warm, then why not?

But while Coulson turned to head back to his van, he stopped dead in his tracks.

It hadn’t even been ten minutes since he arrived—and somehow, in that short time, Luke and Skye were chatting like long-lost friends. 

Laughing, exchanging phone numbers... bonding over something Coulson couldn't quite understand.

"...Seriously?"

Coulson blinked, baffled. 

He’d played online with Luke for three straight days just to get him to stop calling SHIELD 'Snake Shield.' 

And now? Skye waltzes in, says a few things, and suddenly they’re practically glued together.

Heart slightly bruised, Coulson motioned for his team to pack up and leave.

On the way out, he finally broke.

"Skye. What exactly were you two talking about just now?"

"Huh? Oh! Nothing serious, just our favorite games, y'know?" Skye said quickly, tucking her phone behind her back like a high schooler hiding texts. 

That wasn’t helping.

Realizing the suspicious looks she was getting from the rest of the team, she quickly added, "Wait! Don’t we want to recruit him? I was just… building rapport!"

Coulson stared blankly.

Skye’s face flushed red.

"It was on purpose, okay? Totally intentional."

Yeah, right.

As Coulson watched one of his top agents get flustered over a guy they were supposed to be keeping tabs on, it hit him:

This is exactly why Nick Fury doesn’t approve of the honey trap tactic.

They hadn’t even made contact with the target for long—and now Skye was halfway to switching sides.

"Fantastic," Coulson muttered under his breath.

He now knew what it felt like to lose both the mission and the agent.

…………

Elsewhere…

Luke looked down at the last text from Skye, a smirk curling on his lips.

"Trying to recruit me now, huh? Cute."

Their connection wasn’t as complicated as Coulson might’ve thought. 

It was just that random spark of a relatable vibe with someone of his age, same interest, and, well… her looks did help a little.

'She's gorgeous," Luke inwardly thought while chatting Skye with a smile plastered on his face.

Plus, Skye was still new to SHIELD, probably still figuring out where she fit in.

Luke glanced at the sky. Dawn was creeping in.

He didn’t feel like going back to sleep. At this point, with his his innate demonic energy keeping his body strong, he could stay up for weeks and still feel fresh.

Besides, after that shadow ambush? He wasn’t in the mood to jump back into matchmaking queues.

Also, Coulson wasn’t online to play the support role, and Luke wasn’t about to carry games solo all night.

"Wait a sec…"

He snapped his fingers.

"Didn’t Master Daniel tell me to visit the New York Sanctum?"

Luke facepalmed. 

With everything going on, he completely forgot about that man’s invitation.

"Probably not urgent, right?"

Still, best not to ignore a master of the New York Sanctum.

With a flick of his hand, he summoned a shadowy portal and stepped through it, arriving in front of 177A Bleecker Street—the home of the New York Sanctum.

It looked just like any other building on the outside…

Except for the one iconic circular window on the roof that resembled the Eye of Agamotto, the rest of the building looked almost identical to the others on the block. Hidden in plain sight—just how the sorcerers liked it.

When Luke pushed open the door, he instantly felt the shift. The inside of the New York Sanctum was something else entirely.

Thanks to space-warping magic, the interior was at least four times larger than what it appeared to be from the outside. 

It was massive—more like a mystical museum than a home. 

Everywhere he looked, there were arcane artifacts, enchanted weapons, and ancient tomes floating slightly off the ground.

"Hello? Anyone here?" Luke called out, his voice echoing off the temple walls.

But after a few seconds, there was no response.

"No one...? Weird," Luke mumbled, walking slowly through the hall. 

His steps echoed as he wandered.

"They always say in the movies that the artifacts in here chooses their owners... is it true?" he muttered, peeking through glass cases filled with relics.

He wasn’t planning on leaving empty-handed. After all, he’d made the trip, right?

Luke soon spotted some familiar objects: Doctor Strange’s legendary Cloak of Levitation, the Cauldron of the Cosmos from the Avengers Endgame, and even the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak, the same ones that had restrained Kaecilius once.

But none of those were what he was looking for.

He needed something practical—something that could store items. 

A spatial artifact. 

A real-life version of the 'storage bag' you’d read about in fantasy novels.

Otherwise, how was he supposed to carry something like the demon sword he snatched off Belasco? 

The thing was nearly taller than him. 

Carrying that around casually? No thanks.

He lingered in front of the case with the Cloak of Levitation. 

It was cool, and honestly, he was tempted. But the cloak didn’t react to him at all.

"Figures... I bet its waiting for Strange's arrival," he sighed, staring at the floating red fabric. 

Just as he was considering whether he should try yanking it out anyway—

"That cloak already has a master."

A voice spoke calmly behind him.

"Could you not sneak up like that? Seriously, that's creepy," Luke turned around with a start.

Standing there, as calm as ever, was the Ancient One.

"My apologies. I'll try to be less sudden next time," she said with a small nod. 

Of course, judging by her tone, she definitely wouldn’t.

"...Right. Anyway, Master Daniel told me to come here. Is anyone else around?"

Luke decided to get straight to the point.

"Daniel’s recovering at Kamar-Taj. He was badly wounded. And from what I heard... he asked you to come days ago. Why the delay?"

She looked at him with mild disappointment.

"Uhh..." Luke scratched his head. Yeah, no way he was going to admit he got distracted playing games.

"The temple’s been without a guardian for three days, Luke. That’s incredibly dangerous," she said while leading him deeper inside the Sanctum.

"The Avengers protect the world from what we can see—aliens, threats from space. But we protect it from what people don’t see. From magic."

As they walked, she began explaining more.

"Long ago, Agamotto—the first Sorcerer Supreme—created three Sanctums: one in New York, one in Hong Kong, and another in London. Together, they form a magical barrier that defends our world from interdimensional threats."

Luke nodded, quietly taking it all in.

"You remember what I told you about how hard it is to cross dimensions? That’s why I was so curious about you, Luke. You're just a regular person... yet somehow, you've crossed timelines."

She looked at him seriously again.

"Crossing dimensions isn’t supposed to be easy. But you did it. That makes you very... interesting."

Luke didn’t answer. 

His demonic powers, combined with his system, had brought him this far. But even he didn’t understand the full extent of what he was becoming.

"I know it’s not easy to travel through universes, but... what now?"

Luke furrowed his brows, confused by what the Ancient One had just told him.

Of course, he knew universal travel wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. And let’s not even get started on Omniversal travel—which, technically, was what had happened to him. 

But he didn’t correct the Ancient One’s assumptions. 

What would be the point? 

He wasn’t about to risk anything, especially since his system was tied to the extradimensional beings to begin with. 

If anything, being honest would only make her more suspicious of him.

This Marvel universe was cool and all—but also terrifying.

He just wanted to go home.

"This time, Belasco and his demon army broke the rules," the Ancient One said, her face solemn.

It wasn’t that she didn’t take this invasion seriously.

Quite the opposite.

While others were focused on the chaos the demons caused on Earth, she was more concerned about the dimensional shifts happening in the background.

"Wait... You mean Belasco wasn't supposed to come here at all?" Luke asked, puzzled.

"No," she replied, waving her hand.

Golden strands of magic lit up the air, forming a floating holographic display. The image showed what looked like Limbo Prison—demons stacking energy, building a dimensional gate.

"I mean they shouldn’t have been able to come so easily."

"That passage was only meant to let Belasco and maybe a couple of his elites slip through," she explained.

"Even then, once on Earth, they should've been heavily suppressed by our dimension’s laws. Weakened, limited."

She flicked her fingers again, and the projection shifted to scenes of chaos—demons running wild across the streets of New York.

"But now... not only did they make it through, their powers barely got nerfed at all."

She turned to Luke.

"And the biggest reason for that... is you."

"ME!?"

Luke’s eyes shot open. It sounded like she was blaming him for starting some kind of apocalyptic crossover.

"What did I even do?!"

Luke looked down at himself—just a regular guy, mostly. Okay, maybe a bit good-looking, but not exactly world-ending material.

"Have you ever tried to summon a Quagus?"

The question came out of nowhere.

"I mean... kind of? I tried once. It didn’t work though."

He remembered that one moment—just one sentence away from accidentally bringing a dimension lord into the world. Luke scratched the back of his head and shrugged.

"That’s a relief," the Ancient One said with a slow exhale.

Then she started to explain, her tone calm but clear.

"The reason Belasco and the others slipped through so easily... is the demonic power inside you."

Luke blinked. "Wait, what?"

"I don’t know how you’re doing it, but when those energies pass through you, they change. They become... refined. Like they’ve been purified somehow."

Luke’s brain clicked.

The system—his Supreme Exorcist System—it always did something to the energy he got. 

Every time he absorbed new power, the system stripped it clean, erasing the original soul imprint, turning it into something purer... stronger, and his own.

"Looks like you already understand why," the Ancient One said, noticing the look on his face.

"Don’t worry, I won’t press you. Everyone’s got their own secrets."

She gave him a small nod, then continued.

"This energy inside you—it's nearly as pure as the original force that created a dimension. That makes you... a bridge. A connection between two worlds."

"Like a beacon in the dark, or a lighthouse in the middle of a raging sea."

Her tone grew serious.

Something like this had never happened before.

And no one—not even her—could predict how it would end.

"What if... I just keep evicting them every time they show up?"

Luke asked.

He wasn't joking either.

His system didn’t care about balance. It only cared about results.

Evicting demons? That was its shtick.

Chapter 20 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist

But the character in the game was pressing five keys a second, darting across the screen, dodging attacks, and pulling off crazy skill combos.

"Sir, this is what you meant by 'making friends with him by force'?" Skye asked, raising an eyebrow. She was beginning to question if joining S.H.I.E.L.D. was really the smartest move after all...

Who on Earth cheats at games just to make friends?

"I should remind you, sir, this game has an anti-cheating system," she added. "If you get flagged, your account could be banned—and so could the guy playing with you."

She scrolled through the match history, her eyes scanning the ridiculous win streak Coulson had built over the past few pages.

But Coulson clearly wasn't listening.

"Batman Number One, I’ve got your back!"

"Batman! Time to go viral!"

"Come take blue buff!"

"That guy’s low—go for the kill, I’ll block for you!"

Before long, the word Victory lit up the screen.

Right alongside it came the opponent’s furious message: "This support is broken! Report him!"

………

Over the past three days, Luke and Coulson had been climbing the ranks like maniacs.

Meanwhile, the Disaster Control Bureau—established after the first Battle of New York—had finally wrapped up the initial cleanup.

Most of the evacuated residents had returned to their homes.

Maybe it was the New Yorker spirit, but even with rubble just blocks away, people were going back to their routines. 

Work, coffee breaks, and business as usual. But in other places…

The aftermath of the battle was still causing trouble.

The first to take the hit? 

The New York City government. 

The sheer scale of the destruction had economists reeling.

It was a disaster—someone had to be held responsible.

In the end, all fingers pointed at S.H.I.E.L.D.

After all, their job was to prevent exactly this kind of catastrophe.

………

"Sir, the Council slashed the Project Insight budget again," Hill reported. "They’re blaming us for the whole mess."

"Ground HQ says the three Helicarriers in production might be delayed again."

Inside one of the few functioning Helicarriers, Nick Fury stood with his arms crossed, his face looking like a thundercloud.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had been catching heat from all sides. Cleaning up after the war was bad enough, but now they had to deal with literal demons showing up mid-battle? And sorcerers? That was pushing it.

"What about the sorcerer—Daniel, was it? Found anything?"

"No, sir. We scanned the entire database and cross-checked every face. No matches."

Fury's scowl deepened. Just what he needed—more mysteries.

But there was still hope.

"Coulson. Any progress on his side?"

There was a flicker of something close to hope in Fury’s voice.

Coulson had always been the sharpest agent he had. If anyone could pull something off, it was him.

Agent Hill tapped on her transparent tablet, then paused with a frown.

"He did send a report, sir... but..."

"But what? Spit it out."

"Coulson says... he spent three days helping his target rank up. They're both in Glory tier now."

"..."

"WHAT!?"

...

"I'm telling you, Coulson," Luke said, stretching his arms after a solid win.

"At this rate, we'll hit King rank in two days."

They'd been gaming together for hours, and during that time, Luke and Coulson had gotten to know each other better. Coulson had shown nothing but sincerity, and surprisingly, Luke didn’t mind him at all.

After all, SHIELD or not—even if it turned out to be a secret Hydra operation—Luke didn’t care. As long as Coulson helped him rack up points in-game, he was a good teammate in Luke’s book.

"Luke, are you sure you don’t want to consider joining SHIELD?"

"Snake Shield?"

"It’s S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Coulson corrected, half amused. “Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division—"

"Alright, alright, stop! We're in the middle of a match, can we not bring up recruitment while I’m trying to dodge a Widowmaker ult?"

Coulson looked down at his phone and sighed. Another message popped up on the screen.

Typical. Every time he brought up SHIELD, Luke brushed it off like it was background noise—never outright refusing, just brushing it aside with his usual laid-back sarcasm.

And honestly? Coulson didn’t really mind playing games with him. It was fun. But he knew it couldn’t last forever. SHIELD wasn’t exactly paying him to grind ranks in MOBAs.

Didi didi~

His phone vibrated again. He didn’t even have to look to know it was Nick Fury.

Coulson could already hear it: “We’re not paying you to babysit some kid with demonic powers. Get him on our side. That’s your job.” Blah blah blah.

He exhaled sharply and glanced at the vibrating phone, then at the match screen now in champion selection.

He hesitated… then rejected the call without even blinking.

"Higher points, higher rank... let’s go," he mumbled.

………

Outside Luke’s apartment, late at night, a different kind of game was unfolding.

The streetlights flickered faintly. 

Then, without warning, a dog started barking wildly in one direction.

The next second—a shadow shot through the air.

A spear of pure darkness.

The dog went silent.

And slowly, the shadows near the base of the lamppost began to ripple, twisting and thickening... until they solidified.

A humanoid figure stepped out from the darkness, dual swords glinting dimly in the moonlight.

A shadow soldier had arrived.

Silently, it crept through the gate and made its way into Luke’s home.

"Cut the ad! Cut the ad! Stay on position, don’t get caught by Wonder Woman’s lasso again!"

Inside, Luke was fired up. Whatever match he was playing, it was getting intense.

The shadow soldier moved like a ghost—no breathing, no footsteps. It drew its blade, positioning itself behind Luke.

Still gaming.

The soldier struck—blade aimed straight for Luke’s back.

At that exact moment—

"Victory!" the game announced.

Luke’s eyes turned icy cold.

BOOM!

A monstrous black hand burst forth from the ground, grabbing the shadow assassin mid-strike.

In the same breath, the shadows around the room warped and twisted, forming into a towering creature.

A monstrous human body with a feral dog’s head made up of shadows, its red beast-like eyes glowing ominously in the dark.

"Eat it."

Luke’s voice was calm, dangerous.

The monstrous guardian obeyed, swallowing the shadow soldier whole. With a crunch, it was gone—and the monster grew slightly in size.

Luke stood, eyes narrowed as he looked toward the window.

Whoever attacked him… was using the same kind of power he had.

Demonic shadows.

His hand glowed faintly with pulse of demonic shadow energy.

"Someone’s picking a fight... with the wrong goddamn exorcist."

I don't need to guess too hard...

This energy clearly came from someone trying to copy Shadow Demon Shaco’s power.

But it’s a mess—muddy, unstable, and all over the place.

Compared to the shadow energy flowing in Luke’s body, it was like comparing sand to solid gold.

If Luke's demonic shadow power was 24-karat gold,

Then what his attacker used? That was a handful of dirt with a few flecks of glitter.

"So cheap..."

Luke scoffed.

"Giving out scraps of shadow energy and expecting someone to die for it?"

With a grin, Luke slowly melted into a swirling ring of darkness.

……Outside the neighborhood…

Three cloaked figures stood under the cover of night, staring at the spot where their ally used to be.

The shadow soldier was gone—destroyed. And that wasn’t just bad luck.

Each of them could only summon one shadow warrior.

They were soul-bound. If the soldier died... so did the connection.

One of them gasped, “That’s impossible!”

“The warriors of the Shadow God never fail!”

They backed away in disbelief, as the weight of what had happened started to hit them.

Shadow soldiers were supposed to be unstoppable.

They never missed their mark.

They weren’t supposed to lose.

But this time?

They did.

“No! We have to complete the Shadow God's will! The blasphemer must die!”

"Praise the darkness!"

"Praise the darkness!"

"Praise the darkness!"

With dark fervor, each of them summoned a new shadow soldier, ready to finish what the first one couldn’t.

And then—it happened.

A wave of complete darkness surged from all directions, swallowing the area in seconds.

“!!!”

“This feeling...!”

For a moment, they stood frozen.

Then their fear twisted into wild joy.

“It’s him! The God of Shadows!”

“He’s here! The Shadow God is really here!”

“Hahaha! Praise the darkness! Praise him!!”

As they celebrated, a figure emerged from the shadows.

Luke, cloaked in dark energy, coughed lightly.

He stepped forward with calm authority.

“Praise the darkness,” he said, voice low and resonant.

“...?”

The three stopped in their tracks, blinking in confusion at the man who just appeared out of nowhere.

Then their eyes narrowed in recognition.

“Blasphemer!”

“You’re the blasphemer!”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Actually… I’m the earthly messenger of Shaco, the Shadow God you worship.”

He kept a straight face, though a smirk tugged at his lips.

“Don’t throw the name of God around so easily,” one of them snapped.

“That’s just it,” Luke replied. “You can’t. But I can. Because I have a real connection with him.”

He lifted his hand, letting pure, concentrated shadow energy swirl above his palm.

“Would a blasphemer have this?” he asked.

The shadow energy pulsed—stable, refined, powerful.

Their expressions changed.

That kind of energy… it was the real thing. No question about it.

“Unless… you think I stole it?” Luke added casually.

“But… we were told by the Shadow God to kill you…” one of them said, hesitating.

“Yeah, no,” Luke replied flatly. “That was probably from some petty evil god trying to mislead gullible followers.”

“But me? I’m the real deal.”

He stepped closer, letting the dark energy flare just slightly.

“Shadow energy doesn’t lie. You feel it too, don’t you?”

The three cultists looked at each other, unsure… but swayed. Their gazes dropped. Their faith shaken.

Then—thud thud thud—they dropped to their knees.

“Oh great Messenger, forgive our ignorance!”

Luke crossed his arms, nodding in satisfaction.

“All good.”

With that, he led the three into his garage, locking it behind them. Then he strolled back inside and casually picked up his phone.

"Hello? Coulson?"

"Yeah, it’s me. Just rounded up a few cultists in my neighborhood."

Chapter 19 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist

People often push past their limits in moments of crisis.

This time, it took Luke less than 0.01 seconds to activate his teleportation magic. With a flick of his hand, he vanished into the dark rift.

Seconds later, the same swirling black hole appeared again. Luke stepped out, holding several heavy boxes stacked in his arms.

"Thank god it’s still there," he muttered with a small breath of relief.

After grabbing the stash, Luke made his way home. Luckily, the battle hadn’t reached this far. In fact, all of Queens had been untouched by the chaos.

Still, most of the residents had followed the emergency evacuation order. When Luke returned, the neighborhood was quiet—eerily so. Even the Parker family from next door had left.

Once inside, Luke tossed the new boxes into his room, right next to the ones from his last "adventure." Cash. Jewelry. All of it now formed a neat little mountain of wealth.

He smiled, satisfied.

Maybe in a past life he had been a squirrel, hoarding shiny things. Luke had a real obsession with collecting valuables. Not necessarily spending them—but definitely keeping them.

He could live without spending a single cent. But living without the hoard? No way.

...

Night fell quietly.

The news covered the demonic invasion in every headline. All the major networks were calling it the "Second Battle of New York."

But unlike the first battle, this one left a bitter taste in the public’s mouth.

Public opinion turned fast.

"The Avengers were useless against the demons!"

"Where was Thor?!"

"If it weren’t for that mysterious magician and that demon slayer, we’d all be dead!"

"Yeah, seriously. Where was Thor?!"

"And don’t even get me started on Tony Stark. The guy’s a billionaire playboy, not a hero."

"The Avengers should be doing more... or better yet, let the government do it."

The TV showed back-to-back interviews. 

People were frustrated, angry. 

Some even turned against the heroes they once worshipped.

Humanity had two favorite pastimes: building up heroes—and tearing them down.

This time, the Avengers just didn’t meet expectations. 

People questioned Captain America’s leadership. They demanded to know why Thor didn’t show up.

A few rational voices tried to defend the team—said they did their best, said the enemy was just too powerful.

Luke, lounging on the sofa, didn’t care about any of that.

He only perked up at one part of the broadcast:

"They’re calling me a... demon slayer?"

He squinted at the screen, unimpressed.

"Do I need something like Breathing Technique now? Well, the sword's already covered, there's that."

But let’s be honest—when you’ve got a system that complete counters demons and the ability to become a demon itself, you'd expect a cooler title.

Luke didn’t care about people’s panic, or their debates, or their complaints.

 That was their problem. 

He had money, peace, and a goddamn good sofa.

He stretched out, crossing one leg over the other.

A flick of his finger summoned two shadows from the floor beside him.

 They morphed into humanoid shapes—shadow soldiers. 

Without a word, they moved behind the couch and began massaging his legs.

Yep.

He had to admit it, life is good...

The ability of the shadow demon was ridiculously useful.

While enjoying the massage from his summoned minions, Luke casually pulled out his phone, fingers moving like muscle memory. Time to grind some points.

Maybe because of the chaos earlier, the game servers were quiet tonight. Took him forever just to queue into a single match.

"Number one Batman in the U.S. server checking in. Yo, whoever’s hogging third floor—move."

…………

【Name: Luke】 

【Origin: Unknown】 

【Age: Unknown】 

【Abilities: Insufficient data for analysis】

Phil Coulson stared at the file, eyebrows scrunched.

 Apart from the name—if that even was his real name—everything else was a blank slate. 

No background, no affiliations, nothing.

"Oh, also," Agent Hill said, handing over the folder, "Fury thinks this 'Luke' guy might be using a fake alias. Like the alias that he used from before Mordo. So, keep your eyes open. Everything else... you're on your own."

With that, she bolted out of the room like her heels were on fire.

“Geez,” Coulson muttered, watching Hill vanish. “At times like this... death doesn’t seem like the worst thing. At least the dead don’t get stuck with impossible assignments.”

"So, this is falling on our team now?" Grant Ward asked, glancing at the thin file.

He wasn’t alone. 

Standing nearby were Melinda May, always unreadable; researchers Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz, already nerding out; and the newest addition, the sharp-tongued, tech-savvy hacker—Skye.

"No," Coulson replied, pulling the file back before Ward could read more. "This one’s on me. Solo mission."

He looked back at the report. 

Despite the mystery, one line did catch his eye:

—Hobbies: Gaming.

Coulson sighed. "Seriously? How did they even get this?"

Out of everything Coulson had seen in his career—terrorists, aliens, actual Norse gods—this might be the weirdest.

"Gamer? Oh, say no more! I know exactly how to deal with that kind of guy," Skye piped up, leaning forward excitedly.

With her smooth voice, hacker skills, and online experience, she was sure she could make the guy spill his entire backstory over Discord.

"Nope," Coulson said without hesitation. "Mission directive clearly says no honey traps or manipulative methods."

Skye sank back into her seat with a pout.

"But I’ve already got like three ways to slide into his DMs!"

"Appreciate the enthusiasm," Coulson said, standing and gathering the file. His expression shifted into something more confident, a plan already forming.

"I’ve got a better idea... I’m gonna use force—"

He smiled slightly.

"—to make him a friend."

...

Three days later.

Luke's climb to higher ranks in the game suddenly became smooth as butter.

For some reason, every match he queued into, he was always paired with the same user — someone with the ridiculous username 'your bald little baby.'

And they were always on the same team.

"Nice block, Bald Baby!" Luke laughed, clearly in a good mood. "That flash-save earlier? Legendary move."

His face lit up with a genuine smile. It felt good—having someone who took hits for you in team fights, shared buffs without complaint, gave up kills just to help you climb. For three straight days, Bald Baby had been like the ultimate support partner.

He was now officially a Glory-level player.

So naturally, he sent Bald Baby a friend request. They had great in-game chemistry, and Luke was curious.

When the friend request was accepted, Luke clicked into the profile—and froze.

In the 'About Me' section, it read:

[Real Name: Phil Coulson. Eighth-level agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., current leader of the Special Operations Team, based in New York.]

Luke blinked. "Is this... a joke?"

He stared at the screen. It was so detailed it felt like a prank. No real agent would be dumb enough to write their actual identity in a game profile.

But then he saw the name again.

"Phil Coulson? Wasn’t this the guy Loki stabbed in Avengers 1?"

And then it hit him. 

This world wasn’t just the MCU movies—it included the TV series too. In Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Coulson had been resurrected through Project T.A.H.I.T.I. and was leading a whole new team.

Luke leaned back with a smirk.

"So SHIELD’s trying to recruit me through games now? Really?"

Still, he couldn’t be mad. 

For three days, Coulson had made the game more fun than ever.

Even if the approach was obvious, Luke didn’t really mind.

At least Coulson was being upfront... well, kind of. 

The honesty (and weirdly good support skills) earned him a bit of respect.

But Luke did have one small complaint.

"Why send a bald old guy to recruit me? Where’s Skye? Where’s Black Widow? Even Nick Fury’s assistant would’ve worked."

Yep, at this rate, there was no way SHIELD was ever getting him to join.

Still, Luke wasn’t about to pass up the free carry.

He grabbed his phone and messaged Bald Baby:

"Queue up. Let’s rank."

That’s right.

Luke had zero plans to join SHIELD... but if they wanted to help him grind points, he wasn’t gonna say no.

…………

Elsewhere.

Coulson, still logged in as 'Bald Baby', had just won yet another game alongside the infamous No. 1 Batman on the US server.

Across from him, Skye was typing furiously on her keyboard, coding like lightning.

"Sir, that old script got flagged," she said without looking up. "I rewrote a cleaner one. Just... don’t go overboard this time. Play it cool. If your account gets banned, you’re on your own."

She glanced over at him as Coulson awkwardly tapped the screen at senior citizen speed.

This was possibly the weirdest mission they’d ever taken.

Chapter 18 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist

Everyone turned their attention to the swirling black sphere suspended in the air.

Even the least experienced bystanders could tell—it had something to do with the sudden disappearance of all the demons. But what exactly happened in there?

Inside that sphere... Luke and Belasco had gone head-to-head.

What had they done?

While questions buzzed in everyone’s minds, the shadowy orb began to unravel. Threads of darkness peeled away and retreated to their original forms.

“Hulk’s shadow... it’s back!”

“Return!”

Hulk’s face lit up like a kid who just got his favorite toy back—well, considering his childlike brain, that tracked.

But while Hulk celebrated, the rest of the heroes stayed on edge.

Everyone's eyes locked on the shrinking mass of darkness, bracing for Belasco’s return. Tension crackled like static in the air.

The shadows shrank... tighter and tighter...

Then something sharp pierced through the veil.

“Is that...?”

“That’s his sword!” Hawkeye tensed immediately, recognizing the demonic blade. “It's that demon's weapon!”

The rest of the Avengers snapped into defensive mode.

Even Daniel, though badly wounded, forced himself upright and summoned a protective spell.

“Hold on a second!” someone called. “Something’s not right!”

As the last remnants of shadow faded, it became clear—

The ten-meter-long sword didn’t belong to Belasco anymore.

It was held by a human-sized figure.

“It’s that guy Mordo the demon's are talking about!” Iron Man exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

But even then, no one fully lowered their guard. Luke had just faced down something that terrified even demons. Was he still himself?

––––––––––

“You think you can pick a fight with me... and I walk away empty-handed?”

Luke hovered in the air, standing on his own shadow like it was solid ground.

And in his hands... was Belasco’s massive sword.

Just before the exorcism finished, Belasco had been powerless to stop Luke from snatching it away.

Luke gave the sword a curious look. “This thing’s ridiculous. Who even fights with something this long?”

He gripped it with both hands and gave it a few practice swings. The blade was nearly ten times his height. The hilt alone felt like holding a skyscraper column.

“Would be nice if you could shrink a little,” he muttered.

As if responding to his complaint, the blade burst into hellish flames—burning from the tip down to the hilt.

Luke’s eyes widened. “Whoa. Okay then.”

The sword began to shrink before his eyes, the infernal fire reshaping it, condensing its power.

He stared at the glowing weapon. “Is this like... a demonic version of Thor’s hammer? No, wait—Ruyi Jingu Bang, is that you?”

When the fire finally faded, the sword was now a more manageable two meters long.

Luke gave it another swing—smooth. Powerful.

“Perfect,” he said with a grin. “Bet Belasco’s fuming in whatever dimension he just got banished to, kekeke.”

With the weapon secured, Luke glanced down at the stunned Avengers.

He began descending from the air—stepping on shadows like they were invisible stairs.

Shadow magic could turn darkness into solid footing. For Luke, walking on air was just another Tuesday.

“You guys good?” he asked, landing lightly on the cracked pavement.

Seeing the entire Avengers squad looking scuffed, bruised, and confused made him smile.

Then, catching Tony Stark in a rare moment of disheveled chaos, Luke whipped out his phone with lightning speed and snapped a photo.

Click!

“Gonna make a fan account,” he said under his breath, amused. “With these pics and some edited clips... I could hit ten million followers easy.”

"Ahem, hello there."

Seeing that Luke didn’t have any hostile intentions, the Avengers finally let out a collective sigh of relief. The battle they'd just been through had been brutal—far worse than the New York invasion a few months back. If that strange magician hadn’t jumped in to help midway through, things could’ve ended way worse. Someone definitely would've died.

That thought brought Captain America back to the present.

He glanced around and spotted the man who’d helped them. “That guy’s injuries looked even worse than ours…”

He walked over. “Hey, are you alright, uh… Mr. Magician?”

“Call me Daniel,” the man replied, still lying on the ground.

Daniel’s left shoulder was split open with a nasty wound—just a little lower, and it would’ve struck his heart. Luckily, sorcerers trained at Kamar-Taj weren’t your average humans. Their bodies were strengthened by a mix of physical training and magical reinforcement.

Without that, Daniel would’ve been gone for sure.

Still, he looked awful. His face was pale, and he was clearly losing blood despite the quick magical patch-up job he’d done.

“So…” Daniel said slowly, his tired eyes narrowing as he looked at Luke. “You’re that kid, huh?”

“Uh… what?” Luke blinked. “What kid?”

Daniel didn’t answer. 

He pushed himself up, gritting his teeth against the pain, and summoned a glowing portal beside him.

“Come find me at the New York Sanctum when you have time.”

Without another word, he stepped through the portal. 

Just before it closed, Luke thought he heard him muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse.

“Uhhh…” Luke scratched his head. “Did I… offend that guy or something? I don’t even remember knowing him.”

As the chaos settled, the teams Tony Stark had called in finally arrived. 

Cleanup squads spread out, assessing the damage and trying to get control of the situation.

The good news?

 After what happened last time in New York, America had gotten pretty efficient at post-apocalypse protocols.

The bad news? This mess was way bigger.

Several entire city blocks had been reduced to rubble—stretching from midtown Manhattan all the way to Hell’s Kitchen.

Damage costs? Off the charts.

But that wasn’t Luke’s problem. 

All he wanted now was to head home, sprawl on the couch, and get back to his not-so-glamorous, demon-filled daily life.

Well, almost.

There was one last thing to deal with.

“Mordo—that's your name right? Ahem, do you want to consider joining the Avengers?”

Tony Stark walked over, trying once again to pitch the idea.

“Don’t worry,” he added quickly, “we’re nothing like SHIELD. We’d never mess with your personal life. You’d have total freedom. Privacy. Cool gear. Plus, we could really use someone like you…”

Tony laid it on thick.

 After what they’d just been through, he understood how valuable raw power could be. And newcomer before him? He had plenty of it.

Luke didn’t even blink. “First of all, the name’s not Mordo. Second, I’m not joining any team.”

The idea of becoming a full-time hero? 

No thanks.

“I’ve got better things to do,” Luke added with a smirk. “Like playing ranked matches online. Or summoning extradimensional demons and watching them fight. Way more fun.”

Tony sighed and turned to Natasha. “Nat, why don’t you try talking to him?”

Black Widow raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“C’mon,” Tony whispered. “You’ve got charm. Try the honey trap thing. Worked on me before.” he added with a shrug.

Natasha rolled her eyes.

Natasha knew one thing.

Unlike the ever-hopeful Tony Stark, she wasn’t so easily convinced. 

She knew people like Luke—people who carried that kind of power—didn't get swayed by charm or cheap tricks.

He dealt with an Avenger-level threat within a short period amount of time, and it doesn't look like he's tired and injured from it. Maybe only Thor could do something like that, but she wasn't sure.

Powerful types like him? 

They always had a code. 

Principles. Something deeper holding them together.

She watched Luke’s figure as it got smaller in the distance, her sharp eyes flickering with thought. 

There was more to this guy than flashy powers.

………………

Someone else thinking the same thing was Nick Fury.

Onboard the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier, the director stood in front of a massive screen. It showed a live feed of Luke walking away from the battlefield.

His one eye gleamed with interest.

“If we had someone like that on our side,” Fury muttered, “there’s no fight we couldn’t win.”

"Director, should I step in?" Agent Maria Hill asked, standing beside him.

Hill had picked up on Fury’s thoughts immediately. Her expression was cool and composed. “I could... try the diplomatic approach. Or seductive, if needed.”

Fury raised a brow. “No. Not you.”

Hill blinked. “Natasha, then?”

Fury shook his head again.

“For someone like him, trying to manipulate or bait him is a death sentence,” he said, voice low and steady. “The last thing we need is to piss off a guy that extinguished a demon swarm, and dealt with a demon holding a big-ass motherfuckin' sword.”

“Then who are you thinking of sending?” Hill asked.

Fury tapped the screen twice.

A face popped up—a familiar one. Clean-shaven, warm smile, eyes full of calm patience.

Phil Coulson.

"Coulson?" Hill’s lips curved. “Actually... yeah. No one better. He’s got that natural trust buff.”

Fury nodded. “For someone like that guy, only sincerity works.”

His eye followed the feed one last time as Luke disappeared from view.

………………

Meanwhile, Luke was already far from the battlefield, walking down a quiet street in Queens.

He had no idea that both S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers were currently tangled in a brainstorming mess over how to win him over.

Principles? Sincerity?

If Luke had heard what they were all saying behind his back, he would’ve scoffed.

“The hell? You should at least try a seduction first! How do you know I’m not into it unless you try?”

And Tony Stark? Blabbering on about "freedom" and "privacy"...

“Just tell me how much you’re paying, dude! I ain’t signing up for a lifestyle—this is a gig economy now!”

He shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Bunch of weirdos.”

Then he stopped in his tracks.

“Wait... I forgot something.”

Money.

His eyes widened.

“Oh crap—Kingpin’s stash!”

Luke slapped his forehead. 

He had totally left the briefcase full of cash in that warehouse after wiping out the demon horde.

“Damn it! That was ten million bucks!”

He turned around, already pulling a teleport rune out of his system storage.

“No way I’m leaving that behind. Dirty money or not, that’s rent for life!”

Chapter 17 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist

Looking at Daniel—barely standing, bloodied, and about to be cut down by Belasco—the Avengers finally snapped out of their daze.

"Should we go help him?"

"Well, what do you think!?"

Tony was the first to move. He suited up in the Mark 17—Heartbreaker armor—and shot into the sky. A flash lit his chest as he fired a high-caliber particle beam straight at Belasco.

It didn’t do real damage. But it hit hard enough to throw off Belasco’s swing.

That was a first.

Tony’s hit had actually interrupted one of Belasco’s attacks.

It didn’t last.

Cap, Natasha, Sam, and the others followed close behind, leaping into the fray.

Thanks to the Lightweight Charm Daniel had cast earlier, everyone had Hulk-like jumping power. 

They shot through the air like missiles, bounding over ten meters at a time. It gave them speed. It gave them reach.

But it didn’t give them stopping power.

Even with magic-enhanced mobility and shields, their attacks barely scratched Belasco.

“Enough!” Belasco growled, eyes blazing. “You noisy ants!”

The demon lord’s patience snapped. Despite a few cuts and scrapes, he was done playing.

He locked onto Tony, who was darting around above like an annoying fly.

“Uh oh…” Tony muttered as he saw the ten-meter-long demonic sword raise toward him. “That’s not good.”

Belasco swung.

Then—

The world dimmed.

Shadows from every direction lunged toward Belasco like ink being sucked into a void. A pitch-black sphere bloomed around him, swallowing the light.

“ROAR!”

“My shadow! Come back!” Hulk bellowed, charging after his own fleeing silhouette like a kid chasing a balloon.

Every shadow on the battlefield rushed in. The air darkened. In seconds, Belasco stood at the center of a perfect globe of darkness.

“...What the hell?” Natasha muttered.

Confusion rippled through the Avengers.

Daniel took the chance to fall back, dragging himself away from the chaos. He groaned, clutching his side. “Finally… a breather.”

Tony stared down at the vanishing shadow under his feet, mouth open.

He wanted to say something. Maybe science-y. Maybe clever.

But he just shut his mouth.

“Optical phenomenon? Light distortion?” he muttered. “Screw it. I’ve seen gods. Who cares if a shadow runs away.”

……………

Inside the darkness—

Belasco lowered his sword. Slowly. Carefully.

“So. You’ve got more than one trick up your sleeve,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Tell me—did you lie to the others too?”

He turned, watching a figure walk calmly out of the void.

It was Luke.

The so-called 'pure soul.' The human who’d just wiped out an army of demons.

Or maybe… something else entirely.

Luke had dropped his demon form. But his presence still crackled with power. The demonic energy pulsed faintly beneath his skin, runes glowing along his arms.

“Lie? Come on,” Luke said casually. “Let’s not use such harsh words.”

He stepped closer, smirking. “It was just… strategic cooperation. A little misunderstanding.”

Belasco didn’t answer. He didn’t care what Luke called himself. 

What mattered now was figuring out what the hell he was up to.

“You’re not here to fight?” Luke asked, raising an eyebrow. “What then?”

“Planning to surrender?”

Seeing that Luke had activated his demon form, Belasco couldn’t help but laugh mockingly.

Sure, Luke’s power was impressive—for a low-level demon. But in Belasco’s eyes? It was barely a spark compared to the inferno he commanded.

Luke knew it too. He hadn’t completely absorbed the Shadow Demon’s essence—just a portion. 

The rest of his strength came from demonic fragments he’d collected from other encounters. 

Against a Hell Lord just under the level of a Skyfather, this wasn’t nearly enough.

Even so—Luke didn’t flinch.

Not even a little.

Because tucked safely in his pocket was a card etched with a high-level exorcism ritual. 

A last-resort trick he could trigger anytime.

"System, can you make my holy soul a little more... visible?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, a soft, radiant glow spread out behind him. 

A warm, hazy light wrapped around his body, giving him a surreal, almost angelic presence.

"Nice work," Luke thought, mentally nodding at his system’s smooth execution.

Then he looked straight at Belasco.

Bingo.

Just as he expected.

The Hell Lord froze.

Belasco had never expected a human-demon hybrid to pull this kind of stunt. 

The holy glow practically screamed: Look at me—I’ve got a real pure soul.

"You... is that actually a holy soul?" Belast muttered, narrowing his eyes.

Until now, he had always believed that “holy souls” were a hoax—just bait tossed around by low-tier demons who didn’t know better.

But this? This was different.

Belasco’s gaze darkened with hunger.

The last time a genuine holy soul appeared on Earth was over two thousand years ago… a man named Jesus, if he recalled correctly.

———

Luke saw that look—the greedy, obsessive stare—and grinned.

He knew that look all too well.

“Heh... so what now?” Luke said with a casual shrug. “Truth is, you’ve always been the one I’ve truly worshipped.”

“I summoned all those other demons just to get your attention, mighty Bera… uh…”

His smile twitched.

Crap. What was this guy’s name again?

Thankfully, Belasco didn’t seem to notice—or care.

He was too focused on Luke’s words.

In the world of demons, souls weren’t just trophies. 

They were fuel. The right one could mean a leap in power, maybe even evolution.

And right now, a real holy soul was standing right in front of him.

If he could absorb it… he might finally break through that cursed "sub" rank.

He could become a true Skyfather-tier demon.

"You want... to make a deal with me?" Belasco asked, eyes burning with greed.

Luke shivered a little under the intensity of his stare.

“Why does it feel like he’s checking me out for something else…?”

But he kept a straight face.

“That’s right,” Luke said, puffing out his chest a little. “Those lesser demons don’t deserve my soul. That’s why I tricked them.”

“Only someone like you—a true Hell Lord—deserves the purest soul on Earth!”

Luke dove headfirst into the nonsense.

He knew exactly how this would translate in demon-speak:

“Lord Belasco, I’ve stayed pure just for you~”

[T/N: Wai ar u gey?]

"...really."

After hearing Luke's words, Belasco fell into an unusual silence.

Then, with a sharp look, he asked, "So what do you want from me?"

"Not much," Luke replied casually, waving his hand. "Just thirty to forty percent of your power."

Even just 30 to 40 percent of Belasco's strength would more than double the demonic power flowing through Luke’s veins. With the system backing him, Luke didn’t need to be greedy. If he could trade a little, that was enough.

"Thirty to forty percent of my strength?" Belasco muttered, lowering his head in thought.

But after a moment, he lifted his gaze—eyes still greedy, but now tinted with a cruel glint.

Was this guy serious?

It wanted the holy soul to increase its power, not give some of it away!

Give up strength in exchange for a holy soul? What a joke!

"Do you think I'm some kind of fool?" Belasco’s voice dropped, cold and threatening.

His monstrous mouth curled into a vicious smile.

"If I kill you, your soul becomes mine anyway!"

Luke's face twitched.

Well, crap. He just ran into a demonic con artist who was ready to rob instead of bargain.

"Ha! Deal with me?" Belasco laughed darkly, raising his sword slowly.

Reality was cruel—without power, you didn’t even have the right to negotiate.

Now, Belasco was done talking. 

Time to kill this bold human and seize his rare holy soul.

But just as he began to strike, a burst of blinding white light flared between them.

"What the hell?!"

Luke gritted his teeth. "You want consequences? Fine, I’ll deliver them myself!"

He’d had enough. The hunter got hunted.

As Belasco lunged, Luke activated the Exorcist Ritual encoded into his card. White light exploded outward!

Even with power rivaling the a Pseudo-Skyfather, Belasco couldn’t escape the force of a direct expulsion.

So, no more talking.

Game over.

Though Luke triggered the ritual, he wasn’t one to hold grudges—still, getting played like that? It stung... well, at least he now knew how the demons he scammed felt, even if its just a little.

As Belasco was wrapped in the purging light and started fading, Luke made a sudden dash forward.

He snatched the hilt of Belasco’s demonic blade at the last second.

"You...!" Belasco managed, shocked.

But before he could finish, the light swallowed him whole.

Then came another surge—an even stronger blast of white energy flooded outward from the dark realm.

In the blink of an eye, every single demon across the New York battlefield vanished.

Gone.

Not even a corpse remained.

It was as if they had never existed.

"Where did all the demons go?" Steve Rogers asked, scanning the now eerily quiet streets.

If not for the wreckage and destruction around them, he might’ve thought it was all a dream.

"That was... an exorcism circle. A powerful one..."

Daniel Drumm, bleeding but conscious, forced himself up.

Only one being on Earth could set up something like this, in his mind.

"The Ancient One? Are they here...?"

He looked around, searching the battlefield.

But after several long seconds, he found nothing.

No sign of the Ancient One.

Only silence remained.

Chapter 16 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist

"Mordo!!"

"You deserve to die!!!"

The howls of the demons rattled the ground like a war drum.

Even Daniel turned his head mid-battle.

"Mordo? He’s here?"

He glanced around, confused.

"Why would he show up now? Shouldn’t he still be off the grid—wait..."

Daniel’s thoughts froze. Because standing there wasn’t Mordo.

It was some young man he’d never seen before. 

Casual clothes. Calm expression. Taking photos like he’d wandered into the middle of Comic-Con.

And yet—

The demons were losing their minds over him.

"Why do they think he’s Mordo...?"

Before Daniel could figure it out—

Belasco struck.

"You dare lose focus in front of me?!"

The warlock's voice boomed, laced with fury.

His blade of raw chaos slashed through Daniel’s defenses, shattering the shield like glass and slicing deep into his shoulder.

A flash of pain. Blood. And if Daniel hadn’t used a last-second shape-shift spell, that blow might’ve cleaved him in two.

"Hrrgh—"

Daniel clenched his teeth, staggering back.

No time to think about the newcomer. Whether he was Mordo or not didn’t matter now. Belasco was going for the kill.

———

Meanwhile, on the other end of the battlefield—

Luke felt the tension in the air shift.

And not in a good way.

The demons weren’t just angry. They weren’t just out for blood.

They wanted his blood.

"Wow... guess nobody’s feeling nostalgic today."

Luke lowered his phone, sighing. "Alright then. No hugs and handshakes. Got it."

He cracked his knuckles.

"You guys came for a fight, huh? Then let’s make it a good one."

Without another word, Luke launched the first strike.

A flash of movement—fast, clean, confident. No hesitation.

Though he had a ritual card tucked in his pocket—a backup exorcism trick—he didn’t touch it. Not yet.

Today, it was fists and fury.

"C’mon then! One human-sized serving at a time! Let’s see what you demons are really made of!"

With that, Luke’s power surged.

His system roared to life.

A wave of dark, divine energy burst from him, crashing over the battlefield like a shockwave.

It was massive.

Monstrous.

Unnatural.

A twisted fusion of exorcist purity and demonic might.

The demons froze.

For a split second, the entire horde just... stared.

And then—

"That’s OUR power!"

"He stole it!"

"GET HIM!!"

They charged.

But Luke was ready.

His body began to shift.

In a blink, his human form warped—growing, stretching, mutating.

Three meters tall. Eyes burning crimson. Arms transforming into monstrous claws. Horns curled from his skull. Scales—red and black—covered his frame like armor.

Lava oozed from the cracks in his skin, dripping onto the pavement with sizzling hisses.

He didn’t just look like a demon.

He looked like their king.

Belasco, watching from across the battlefield, faltered.

"What... the hell is that kid...?"

He didn’t say it out loud.

But in his mind, one thought screamed above the rest:

He looks more like a demon than the rest of the demons themselves.

Luke grinned, fangs gleaming.

"Finally! A worthy opponent!"

"Our battle will be legendary!" he added with fist up in the air.

As soon as Luke finished speaking, massive wings of dark energy burst from his back.

With a rush of wind, he launched into the air like a missile, diving straight into the horde of demons like a blade through paper.

Like a predator among prey.

SLASH!

The first wave of demons didn’t even have time to scream before they were torn apart by Luke’s claws—flesh and bone scattering like confetti.

"Really? This is the best you’ve got?"

Luke smirked as he barreled through another line of snarling monsters.

"You call yourselves demons? I’ve seen toddlers with more bite. Maybe hand over that title, huh?"

His voice was calm. Almost mocking.

As he moved, his body surged with power. Since activating his demon form, his speed, strength, and reflexes had exploded. 

Everything was sharper. Deadlier.

Up above, a winged demon tried to ambush him.

Bad idea.

Luke’s wings snapped out and hooked the creature mid-flight. 

With a brutal yank, he tore it clean in half.

Another demon, this one larger and snarling with goat-like horns, charged at him.

Luke sidestepped, ripped off one of its horns, and drove it straight through the creature’s chest.

The fight wasn’t flashy. It was vicious. Efficient. One strike, one kill.

Limbs, heads, and shredded torsos rained from above like some horrific downpour.

On the ground, the demons who couldn’t fly fared even worse. Luke dove from the sky and carved through them like a buzzsaw. Whole clusters went down in seconds.

It wasn’t a battle—it was a massacre.

—

"...Wasn’t that the guy who just walked past us a minute ago?"

A few yards away, Captain America stared, wide-eyed.

Black Widow blinked. "He smiled and waved. I saw him smile and wave."

They all watched as the same guy—who just looked like a chill tourist a moment ago—now tore through hellspawn like he was flipping through a phonebook.

Even the demons looked scared.

"Did I hear right?" Tony asked, stunned. "They called him... Mordo?"

He ducked as a severed demon head splattered nearby.

"Man. That is way too literal a bloody storm."

The Avengers, who had spent all their strength trying to keep the demons at bay, now watched them get shredded like cheap paper dolls.

—

Elsewhere…

S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier – Command Deck

Nick Fury stared at the live footage.

 His jaw clenched. He picked up the emergency pager... then put it back down. Picked it up again. Put it down.

Some sorcerers had shown up. Then this kid—this Mordo, or whoever he was—showed up.

Now the battlefield looked like a scene straight from a horror film.

"This escalated real fast," he muttered.

He turned to Maria Hill, still watching the screen.

"Thoughts on nuking the site?"

Hill looked at him, then at the screen, then back at his bald head.

She didn’t say anything. 

Just sighed.

—

The fight didn’t last long.

Only minutes had passed, but the landscape was already covered in demon parts. The few survivors finally stopped charging.

The rage in their eyes faded, replaced by fear.

They couldn’t win.

They knew they couldn’t win.

Sure, they were angry about being tricked… but staying alive suddenly seemed like a much more reasonable goal.

Revenge could wait.

Now it was all about one thing:

Survive the wrath of the monster they kept calling "Mordo."

"It’s your fault for giving him that kind of power!" one of them shouted, snarling at another.

"Blame us?"

"You gave him ninety percent of your power, and now you want to blame us?"

"Wasn’t the deal his soul?"

"Speaking of which... how did we get conned again?" 

"This guy’s supposed to be a pure soul? Doesn’t feel very pure to me."

The demons began to bicker among themselves, arguing and throwing blame. Doubt filled the air. 

What they’d just witnessed didn’t match anything resembling holiness.

The battlefield was littered with torn limbs and broken bodies.

This wasn’t the work of a saint.

"What now?" Luke’s voice rang out from above, calm and dangerous. "No one’s fighting anymore?"

Still floating mid-air in his demon form, Luke spread his blood-soaked arms, wings outstretched like a predator surveying the field.

The demons stayed quiet.

 No one moved. They glanced at each other, hoping someone else would step forward. 

But no one did.

Cowards, the lot of them. Once one backed down, the rest followed.

Luke hovered there, letting the silence speak.

 His body was slick with blood, bits of shredded demons still clinging to his armor and claws.

"If we’re done here, then I say we call it even. No hard feelings. You want to work with me in the future? Sure. I’ll play fair."

He pointed a claw at the crowd.

"Just don’t go around badmouthing me. I hate rumors."

Chunks of meat still dripped from his form as he grinned.

"Anyone got a problem with that? Speak now."

Silence.

Luke’s red eyes shifted to Belast.

……………

Not far off, Belasco was still hammering Daniel Drumm into the ground.

But even as he fought, his gaze kept drifting toward Luke.

'Who was this guy?'

What kind of human could manipulate, deceive, and overpower a mob of hellspawn like that? And now—now he was watching as those same demons bowed to Luke without a fight.

Belasco's fist cracked down against Daniel’s shield. Hard.

"Trash," he muttered, glaring at the demons who once served him.

It was humiliating. His own underlings—outclassed by a single human.

'Fine. Enough games.'

This needed to end. Fast.

Belasco surged forward, slamming his blade down toward Daniel, fury blazing in his eyes.

"How dare you slow me down! You’re nothing but a—"

The blade cut through Daniel’s shield—and nearly took off his head.

Daniel barely dodged. 

Wounded and exhausted, he could hardly stand, let alone fight. His magic flickered, unstable.

He looked down at the Avengers below—watching the battle like an audience at a play.

'Are you kidding me!?'

'I gave you shields. I gave you lightning. I gave you everything!'

'And you’re just standing there!?'

But the Avengers weren’t mind readers.

They were too stunned watching Luke wipe out demon after demon. 

That kind of violence—even for seasoned heroes—was brutal.

By the time they snapped out of it, Daniel was already on his last leg.

Chapter 15 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist

"No way?"

Luke blinked at the swirling energy in the distance. "They're here... to collect a debt? Seriously?"

Wasn’t the Ancient One clear about how hard it was to cross dimensional barriers?

So how the hell did these demons just waltz onto Earth like it was some tourist hotspot?

Luke didn’t have a clue what kind of insane price the hell demons paid to break through. All he knew was—those creepy creditors might’ve just wasted their time.

"Coming to collect?" Luke cracked his knuckles. "You better be packing more than just bad breath."

He had already started drawing an exorcism circle in his mind, just in case things got messy. Sending demons back home? Just another Tuesday for an exorcist like him

"But then again…" Luke tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"They came all this way. Maybe I should be a good host. Offer snacks. Threaten them a little. Typical Earth hospitality."

He sensed something much stronger among the demonic energy flooding the city—a presence that made the air hum. This wasn’t some low-tier demon. No, this had to be one of the big names—the hell lords Ancient One had warned him about.

"Guess I better check it out," he muttered. "And if it turns out to be too much trouble... I’ll just banish them all. Easy."

Luke wasn’t worried. The hell demons were looking for Karl Mordo, who had been toying with demonic magic again.

As far as they were concerned, Luke was just a guy who played with shadows. What did he have to do with any of it?

Decision made, he slipped on the Sling Ring. But this time, instead of the usual golden portal, he focused on his shadow energy.

The ring pulsed—but nothing happened.

"Huh?"

Then, without warning, a swirling black hole appeared beneath his feet. Before he could react, the shadows swallowed him whole.

………

A moment later, a matching dark portal opened up in the heart of New York City.

Luke emerged slowly, shrouded in a cocoon of dark energy, rising like smoke from the portal.

"Okay… that's new," he muttered.

He glanced around.

Total chaos. Cracked streets. Smoke in the air. Buildings crumbled like paper. 

If not for the silhouette of the Avengers Tower in the distance, he would’ve thought he got dumped in some warzone halfway across the world.

"Welp," he sighed, "guess that breakfast place’s out of business."

He stared at the ruins of the small corner diner where he had just eaten earlier that morning. Only rubble remained.

But thankfully, no bodies.

"Aunt May must’ve bailed early. Good."

She made the best dumplings he’d ever tasted. Losing her would’ve been a tragedy.

"ROAR—!"

A sudden screech tore through the air.

"There’s a human here!"

Two demons with jagged wings and glowing eyes noticed him. They dove in from the sky, snarling.

Luke raised an eyebrow. "Human? Seriously?"

The power he sensed from them was pathetic. Combined, they weren’t even a tenth of his own.

"You guys are still calling me human? I’ve got more demon energy in my pinky than you’ve got in your whole body."

He casually waved his hand.

The shadow of a collapsed building twisted unnaturally and shot forward—two spears of pure darkness.

In a blink, the spears pierced the demons, pinning them against the wall of a half-destroyed office tower.

One strike. No mercy.

They didn’t even get to scream.

As the one wielding the power of demons, Luke knew exactly where these hellspawn were weakest.

"Huh, sounds like a party over there," he muttered.

After swiftly dealing with the two demons that tried to ambush him, Luke looked up, noticing the chaos up ahead. Three F-22 fighter jets screamed across the sky.

"Wow, didn’t expect the U.S. military to move this fast without an oilfield involved."

He barely finished his sentence when a blade of hellfire, crescent-shaped and burning with malevolent energy, slashed through the sky.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The three jets exploded in a fiery chain reaction, turning into nothing but smoke and sparks.

"Alright, I take that back," Luke sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

——

"You freeloading junk heaps! Can’t you aim properly?!"

On the ground, Tony Stark crawled out of a fresh crater, his suit sparking and armor plates dented. The missile meant for the demon general Belasco had missed and struck way too close.

"Sir, Mark 15—destroyed," came Jarvis’s calm voice in his ear.

Tony groaned, brushing dust off his armor.

"Mark 39 Gemini—destroyed. Mark 33 Silver Centurion—destroyed. Mark 35 Red Snapper, Mark 37 Hammerhead, Mark 38 Igor—"

Each update felt like a jab to Tony’s wallet and pride. One by one, his precious suits were turning into flaming debris.

But he didn’t have time to mourn. With the ‘Party Protocol’ active, all of his remaining suits were fighting autonomously under Jarvis's command.

Still, it wasn’t enough. Belasco was just too strong.

BOOM!

Hulk came crashing down from the sky, his green skin bruised and bleeding. Belasco’s sword wasn’t enchanted like Thor’s hammer or Odin’s spear, but it had power. Serious power.

One slash was enough to cut even Hulk.

"Hulk hold him back!" Hulk roared, charging again.

"No—wait, I don’t think—!"

Captain America tried to intervene, assisted by two flying suits under Jarvis’s control. He gave it everything he had, hoping for one of those ‘fifty-fifty’ moments.

But he miscalculated.

Belasco swung with brutal strength and knocked Cap out of the sky. The impact sent him spinning, and his shield nearly slipped from his grasp.

"We can’t win like this!"

Black Widow coughed up blood, leaning against a wall. She hadn’t even managed to take out the weakest demon.

The difference in power was overwhelming. Hopeless.

No amount of military force could change it. The demons were winning.

Then—

BZZZZZT!

Just when it felt like everything was lost, a golden portal sparked open in the middle of the battlefield.

A bald black man in a flowing robe stepped out. He wore the mark of Kamar-Taj across his chest.

Daniel Drumm.

One of the keepers of the New York Sanctum. A master of the mystic arts.

"I’ll hold him off! Wait for your shot!"

Daniel raised his hands. A brilliant golden light shimmered across the battlefield. Every Avenger was coated in it.

Lightening spells. Shield charms.

Instantly, they all felt lighter, stronger.

 They could leap over ten meters with ease—especially helpful for Cap and Black Widow, who couldn’t fly.

"Hold up," Tony blinked, watching Daniel with disbelief.

"Is he casting actual magic spells on us? What sort of wizardry is this?!"

Even Tony Stark, a man who built tech to rival gods, couldn’t help but feel his reality bend a little more.

"Ah~"

"There they are~"

Belasco didn’t even blink when the magic portals opened and the sorcerers stepped through.

Of course they showed up. 

These guys called themselves the protectors of Earth—would’ve been weird if they didn’t come.

"Where’s the Ancient One?" he scoffed. "What, did she send you here to die for her?"

His glare locked onto Daniel Drumm. 

As fellow masters of the mystic arts, Daniel technically held the same rank—but to Belasco, he was just another bug.

Even less impressive than Wong, Belasco thought with a sneer.

"The Sorcerer Supreme knows what you’ve done," Daniel said firmly. "You’ll meet her soon enough."

He stood tall, trying to radiate confidence. In his head, though? Chaos. Total chaos.

He had contacted the Ancient One earlier. Her reply? Cold as ice:

"Let him fix the mess he made himself."

Daniel had no idea who she meant by him.

 He’d been stationed at the New York Sanctum for months—no clue what had gone down in Kamar-Taj.

That boy? What boy?

With no answers and no backup, Daniel was stuck. 

He took a deep breath and braced himself.

"Ah~"

"Cut the act."

Belasco waved a hand dismissively, seeing right through the bluff.

"If she could’ve come, she would’ve. But she can’t anymore, can she? Don’t think I don’t know—she’s lost control of that power inside her."

His voice dropped, filled with mock sympathy, then rose into twisted glee.

"She can’t protect herself anymore."

Belasco’s laughter boomed through the battlefield. 

He’d stayed cautious, delaying his attack on Earth because of her. But now?

Now she was gone. And Earth was his.

He raised a hand and blasted raw energy straight at Daniel.

Daniel clenched his fists, summoned his strength, and cast spells rapid-fire:

[Shield of Seraphim]!

[Wind of Watoomb]!

[Hosts of Hoggoth]!

The effects flared brightly, mystic symbols spinning in the air, but all of it was defense—barely holding together.

"That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?"

Belasco laughed again, power crackling around him. 

His attacks rained down without mercy.

Then—

From across the shattered street, a young man strolled in.

A man with a jet-black hair, maybe mid-20s, phone in hand, snapping pictures like he was on vacation.

The chaos around him didn’t seem to bother him at all.

"Hmm?"

One of the demons paused, squinting.

"Hey—wait! I know that guy!"

More demons turned, whispering, then shouting—

"It’s him!"

"Mordo!"

"That’s Mordo!!"

Like someone had thrown a grenade into a hornet’s nest.

The swarm exploded.

All eyes, every single demon except Belasco, turned to the newcomer.

Their expressions twisted into pure hatred—bloodthirsty, burning hatred.

The kind that wanted to tear him limb from limb.

The young man lowered his phone, blinked, then smiled casually.

"Oh. Hey. Long time no see. You guys look... energetic."

It was Luke Constantine—their enemy number one.

He hadn’t used his powers, hadn’t done anything flashy. 

But apparently, his face alone was enough to send the demon world into a frenzy.

"Man," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "You guys really hold a grudge, huh?"

And then—

"AHHHHHHH——！！！"

Chapter 14 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist

"Stay back, Barton! This guy is out of your league!" Steve shouted.

The rest of the Avengers had already noticed Belasco.

Tony Stark soared in from the distance, unleashing a barrage of repulsor blasts to divert Belasco’s attention.

Repulsor beams!

Lasers!

Micro-missiles!

"Damn it! None of my weapons are even scratching this thing!" Tony gritted his teeth, pushing his Mark 42 suit to its limits.

From the ground, Belasco barely reacted. 

He simply tilted his head, unimpressed.

"Weak attack."

His voice rumbled like an earthquake.

 He raised his massive blade and pointed it directly at Tony.

"Warning! Extreme heat levels detected!" Jarvis’ voice rang through Tony’s helmet.

"Yeah, no kidding, Jarvis!" Tony snapped, veering away, heading straight toward the Hulk’s position.

After the Battle of New York, Thor had taken Loki back to Asgard. 

That left Hulk as the Avengers’ last true powerhouse.

"Hulk! I brought you a big guy to smash—oh hell, this thing can fly?!"

Before Tony could finish, a powerful force struck him mid-air, sending him spiraling out of control.

 The Mark 42, still a prototype, took the impact hard, nearly breaking apart mid-flight.

At the last second, Hulk leaped up, catching Tony and setting him down safely.

"ROAR!"

"Alright, alright, no need to yell. I’m still alive—barely." Tony groaned, crawling out of the wrecked armor. "Jarvis, get the party started."

As soon as he said it, his backup suits launched from Stark Tower, inbound for battle.

Tony looked up. 

Belasco loomed in the sky, his monstrous wings spread wide, blotting out the sun. 

The massive demon cast a dark shadow over the battlefield, and with it, an oppressive force that crushed the spirits of everyone present.

A single thought crept into their minds: 'Can this thing even be defeated?'

Meanwhile, aboard the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier, Nick Fury watched the battle unfold on several holographic screens. The Avengers were losing ground fast.

Across from him, a council of high-ranking officials appeared via projection, their expressions tense.

"Perhaps… it’s time we consider another nuclear strike?" one of them suggested.

Fury’s expression darkened further.

'Idiots.'

"Last time the council considered that, we nearly eliminated the only true deterrent our world had." he said coldly.

His hand slipped into his pocket, gripping a worn-out pager.

If things got any worse, he knew exactly who he needed to call.

In a warehouse in Port Jefferson, the darkness finally faded.

"It’s finally over..." Luke exhaled, his body trembling from exertion.

Just as the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. were reaching the brink of despair, Luke had completed his ritual, absorbing the energy of the Shadow Demon.

Power surged through him. 

His mind instantly understood its most fundamental and powerful ability—

The power to command shadows was now within his grasp.

"Shadow?"

Luke glanced at the container nearby, eyeing the shadow it cast. With a thought, the dark outline began to ripple and twist. Within moments, the shadow solidified into the shape of a soldier wielding two swords.

Its entire body was pitch black, blending into the dim surroundings, with only the faint shimmer of its blades giving it definition—a chilling aura clinging to them.

"Come here."

The shadow soldier, responding instantly to Luke’s command, walked toward him. It was connected to him by thought alone.

Luke watched it up close, curious. He slowly reached out and placed his hand into the creature’s chest. It didn’t resist.

In an instant, the soldier faded into smoke, the shadow twisting and reshaping into a black sword that Luke now held in his grip.

"Is this your power, Shaco?" he asked with a smirk. "Not bad at all."

He loosened his fingers, letting the sword melt back into a shadow and return to the ground.

"Of course," Shaco replied confidently, standing nearby with an almost cocky nod.

He didn’t even notice that Luke had started calling him by name. 

But he was pleased—because he believed he was close to gaining something far greater.

Soon, Shaco thought, he’d fully absorb the incredible energy Luke carried. Energy so pure and demonic, it could rival the core force of an entire dimension.

With that power, he could tear open the barrier between dimensions.

The Shadow Dimension would rise and consume the dark energies of the Hell Dimension tied to Luke’s strange demonic presence.

Once that happened...

"I’ll finally become a dimension lord!" Shaco trembled with excitement. He could already see it—his throne, his domain, his rule.

"Human, I’ve given you part of my power," Shaco said, stepping forward, voice brimming with self-importance. "Now it’s your turn."

Silence.

Luke casually spread his hands. "Where? Where’s this so-called power you gave me?"

Just then, the sound of a system notification echoed in his mind:

【Ding!】

【Abnormal energy detected!】

【Supreme Exorcist System has successfully purified the intrusion!】

At that moment, Luke knew—it was over.

He didn’t owe Shaco a damn thing.

You said your power's inside me? Then call it back. Let’s see if it answers.

"Wait, I... just now..."

Shaco froze, eyes wide.

He couldn’t feel it.

The shadow power clearly radiating from Luke... had no connection to him at all.

"You... you tricked me!?"

Fury erupted from him. Shadows surged from every object nearby, morphing into twisted, snarling beasts.

Luke instinctively tried to resist, to seize back control of the nearby shadows. But...

They weren’t his to command—not yet.

"You’ve still got some cards up your sleeve, huh?" Luke muttered, half-amused, half-annoyed.

"Hehe~ Stupid human!" Shaco snarled. "Did you really think I’d give you all my power?"

The shadow monsters crept closer, circling Luke.

"You’ll regret trying to deceive a demon of my rank... I’ll show you the wrath of a dimension—"

Before he could finish, a blinding white light burst outward.

Luke had triggered the exorcism array he’d secretly set up earlier.

Crafted by the Supreme Exorcist System itself.

It activated flawlessly.

And it was glorious.

A flash of white light exploded across the room.

In an instant, all the shadow monsters were wiped out—gone without a trace. Even the Shadow Demon had vanished, as if it had never existed.

"Ah~" Luke let out a sigh, clapping his hands as he looked around. "Thought you were the only one with a hidden move, huh?"

There was no trace of Shaco anywhere.

With the demon gone, Luke suddenly felt it—control. The shadows of every object around him now bent to his will. No resistance, no tug-of-war. He had full command.

"Dimensional Demon God?" he scoffed to himself. "You weren’t even a proper dimension lord. And you had the guts to mess with someone like Dormammu?"

Luke shook his head, remembering how Shaco had pompously called himself a 'Dimensional Demon God'. It was laughable.

Right then, the system chimed in his mind again:

【Ding!】

【Achievement Unlocked: First Time Expelling a Dimensional Demon!】

【Congratulations! You've received a reward: Mouth of the Heavens!】

(Entry 1: No rituals required. Your words are law. You can summon by simply speaking a demon’s true name.)

(Entry 2: Summoned demons have the right to refuse.)

Luke blinked at the screen, then grinned.

"So... I don’t need blood, bones, or any of those creepy rituals anymore?"

"Just the name?"

His eyes sparkled with excitement.

No sacrifices.

No incantations.

That meant he could call whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted! It wasn’t until he read the second entry that reality kicked back in.

"Right... they can still ghost me."

Still, this was a massive upgrade from before.

"Even if I can’t read that ancient scroll the Ancient One gave me... I can still summon, as long as I know the name."

Luke recalled the scroll, filled with ancient markings. No matter how hard he tried, the language made zero sense.

But now?

"Who cares what it says, I just need the name."

He tried to remember what the Ancient One called that sealed entity... "Was it Praise?... Quas?"

"No... Quag? Quaggs?"

He mumbled through the guesses until one name slipped out:

"Quagus."

BOOM—!

The pressure that followed was unreal. Heavy. Suffocating.

Tentacles burst from thin air. Eyes—dozens, maybe hundreds—opened in the darkness.

In seconds, the entire warehouse was filled with an overwhelming presence. Fear pressed from all sides.

"Oh crap!"

"Did I really just summon that thing!?"

"I haven’t even set up the exorcism array yet!"

Panicked, Luke scrambled to activate a defense. But before he could finish, the pressure vanished. Just like that.

Everything—tentacles, eyes, the whole surreal nightmare—disappeared.

The warehouse returned to normal, like nothing ever happened.

Quagus never came.

Luke exhaled sharply, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"The Ancient One did say he was sealed... guess she wasn’t kidding."

He chuckled nervously. "Man... I almost summoned a full-blown dimensional lord... with zero prep."

He shook his head as he walked out of the warehouse. "Yeah, I probably shouldn’t toss demon names around like party invites."

Just a few steps outside, he stopped.

"???"

"Wait, what the hell is going on over there?"

The air was thick with a familiar energy.

He sniffed, narrowing his eyes toward the horizon.

"That’s demonic energy. Strong, too. And... wait a sec. That scent... it’s familiar."

Luke's expression darkened.

It smelled like the same group of demons he summoned from before!

Chapter 13 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist

"Keep pumping!"

"This guy's built like a tank... 800ml isn't enough! At least a full liter!"

Luke sat casually on a container, directing Kingpin's men as they drained blood from their unconscious boss. 

To ensure efficiency, he had even brought along a veterinary needle—the kind usually reserved for large livestock.

Yep.

Straight from the farm. The same ones used for pig injections.

One jab and blood gushed into the tube.

"Damn..."

Luke smirked as he watched the steady flow. "Not much of a fighter, but that blood pressure's impressive."

He looked every bit like a ruthless businessman, overseeing the process like a factory owner squeezing the last bit of value from his workers. 

But drawing blood was only half the plan. 

Across the warehouse, he had the rest of Kingpin’s goons—many of whom were still dizzy and stumbling—working on something far stranger.

A ritual.

"Do it right!" Luke barked. "No screw-ups!"

"Or next time, you'll be the sacrifice!"

The hardened criminals—murderers, arms dealers, and career thugs—turned pale. 

Their hands trembled as they traced arcane symbols in blood, their expressions filled with growing horror.

"Oh God... he's one of those cult lunatics, isn't he?"

"Take out 'cult' and yeah, you're spot on!"

"Did you not hear him? He just threatened to sacrifice us!"

"Shit..."

This was a whole new genre of crime. 

Murder? Fine. Smuggling weapons? Easy. 

But this? 

This was something beyond their understanding. 

Their gaze kept flickering toward the strange symbols forming on the floor—symbols they didn’t understand but instinctively feared.

Daredevil, unnoticed in the commotion, edged toward the warehouse exit.

His hand slipped into his pocket, fingers closing around his phone. 

Should he call the police? SHIELD? Maybe even the Avengers?

But then he hesitated.

What’s the point? 

With the kind of power Luke just displayed, calling the cops would be a joke. 

Unless he could call Iron Man or Thor, there wasn’t a force in the city that could stop him.

Then another, far worse realization hit him.

"Wait... Am I part of this?"

Daredevil slapped his forehead in frustration.

 He was so caught up in stopping Kingpin, he hadn’t considered what Luke’s real goal was. 

Now, by association, he looked like an accomplice in... whatever the hell this was.

At the same time, strange cracks had begun appearing across New York City.

At first, it was just a curiosity—something for local cops to investigate.

 But the more they searched, the less sense it made.

Heat radiated from the fissures.

They stretched impossibly deep—bottomless, as far as anyone could tell.

No known natural force could explain them.

The growing phenomenon soon drew the attention of SHIELD.

"So this thing just appeared out of nowhere?"

Grant Ward, a Level 7 SHIELD agent, had been sent to investigate, accompanied by two top-tier scientists—Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons.

"The readings are off the charts," Fitz muttered, staring at his instruments. "Gamma levels are spiking way beyond anything normal."

"Meaning?" Ward asked.

"Meaning..." Fitz exchanged an uneasy glance with Simmons. "This crack isn’t natural. Something—someone—made it."

Ward pressed his earpiece. "Sir, you getting this?"

A familiar voice crackled through the comms.

"Loud and clear. I’m on my way."

Minutes later, a black SUV rolled up to the scene.

A man in black suit stepped out.

Agent Phil Coulson.

A man who, as far as the public knew, had died at Loki’s hands during the Battle of New York.

"Have you pinpointed the energy source?" Coulson asked immediately.

"Not exactly," Simmons admitted. "It's not coming from here. It’s... on the other side."

Coulson’s face darkened. "The other side?"

"Yes, sir." Fitz hesitated before explaining. "This crack—it’s not just a hole. It’s a passage. Like the portals we saw during the Chitauri invasion."

Coulson exhaled sharply.

"Quick!"

"Everyone evacuate! Contact the Avengers--"

Coulson hadn't even finished speaking when--

Suddenly, the ground trembled violently.

The cracks in the pavement widened at an alarming rate, spreading like a jagged wound in the earth. Molten lava spewed out, cascading onto the streets like an erupting volcano, melting asphalt and sending waves of heat rippling through the air.

Then—

A massive red hand burst through the fissure, its clawed fingers gripping the edges like a predator tearing through its cage.

A deep, guttural laugh rumbled through the city.

"Hahahaha..."

N'astirh's enormous form emerged, pulling itself from the fiery depths. 

Towering over the street, its demonic body exuded pure malevolence. 

With every movement, the air itself shimmered with heat, and nearby structures ignited, flames consuming glass and steel alike.

"A hundred years..." N'astirh growled, his glowing eyes surveying the city. "And I have finally returned."

His towering frame, wreathed in hellfire, radiated an aura of overwhelming dread. 

Metal structures near him twisted and melted, crumbling under the sheer intensity of his presence.

"Fragile humans..."

"Feeble creations..."

The demon lord sneered, watching the insignificant mortals flee in terror, their screams like a hymn of worship to his ears.

"Go forth," he commanded, voice reverberating through the ruined streets. "Plunder, my warriors!"

From the widening chasm, an unholy horde poured out. 

Hellspawn of every shape and size, their eyes burning with demonic fury, surged into the city like a plague.

The ground was soon crawling with them—grotesque creatures with jagged fangs and talons dripping with malevolence. 

They moved in all directions, relentless and unstoppable.

"Mordo!" they howled. "Mordo!! We are coming for you!!!"

Meanwhile, at Kamar-Taj.

Mordo paused mid-stance. 

A sudden chill crawled up his spine.

"Achoo!"

He sneezed violently, then glanced around in confusion. 

That was the third time today.

"Strange..."

He frowned. 

With his enhanced constitution, getting sick wasn’t exactly common. 

Dismissing the thought, he tightened his grip on his staff and resumed training.

Diligence was the key to power. Every step forward required discipline, and sweat was the currency of strength.

Back in the warehouse, Luke was also hard at work.

But instead of combat training, he was practicing something arguably more difficult—

His acting skills.

"Great Shadow Demon, I am your devout believer. The world is in peril, and I humbly seek your favor—" He stopped mid-recital, rubbing his chin. "Nah, that sounds too desperate."

Luke was seated cross-legged in the center of a warehouse drenched in an eerie crimson glow. 

Strange symbols and inscriptions were scrawled across the floor and walls, painted in fresh blood. 

The overwhelming metallic scent filled the air, making it feel more like a slaughterhouse than a hideout.

Behind him, Kingpin stirred, groaning as he regained consciousness.

As soon as he took in his surroundings, his already pale face turned even whiter. 

His massive frame trembled—partly from blood loss, but mostly from pure, unfiltered terror.

"Uh..." Kingpin cleared his throat, forcing his voice to stay steady. "Friend, we've done everything you asked. So... can we leave now?"

For the first time in his life, the criminal overlord sounded almost... polite.

Luke turned to face him, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. 

"Oh, right. I almost forgot about you guys."

Kingpin swallowed hard. 

This young man—this absolute lunatic—was so powerful, so unpredictable, that for the first time, Wilson Fisk felt completely out of his depth.

"You want to leave, huh?" Luke mused. "Sure, sure. I keep my word. I'm a man of integrity."

He stepped forward, casually slapping Kingpin's cheek with the back of his hand, making the crime lord flinch.

"But y'know... this business is dangerous. One day, I might wake up in a bad mood, and... well... accidents happen."

Luke's grin widened, his teeth gleaming in the dim warehouse light.

"So how about this—"

He leaned in, voice dropping to a near whisper.

"Why don’t you start paying a little protection fee? Just a small... monthly 'voluntary' contribution to keep things friendly between us."

...

"Damn it! Why does this shit always happens on a random Friday!? First, the creatures from the sky were invading us, now it's demons from hell, do I need a religion now? Anybody brought a cross?"

Regarding Tony’s complaints on the channel, everyone fell silent.

At that moment, Captain America, Black Widow, Hawkeye, and the others leaped off the Quinjet, diving straight into the battle. 

They quickly realized just how formidable these demons were. 

Conventional weapons had no effect on them! 

Even the weakest hellspawn shrugged off bullets like they were nothing, while the larger demons tore through the battlefield like living war machines, leaving destruction in their wake.

"Has anyone contacted Thor?" Steve asked between gritted teeth, smashing his shield into a demon's snarling face.

"How? Call him?" Natasha quipped, flipping over a demon's swing. "Pretty sure Asgard doesn’t have a customer service line."

"Why isn’t the military here yet?" Clint grumbled as he loosed an explosive arrow. "Bunch of freeloaders!"

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" Tony was throwing everything he had at the creatures—repulsors, micro-missiles, lasers. 

He was barely making a dent. 

There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of demons still flooding in.

The pressure was mounting, and Tony could feel his old anxiety clawing at the edges of his mind. 

His hands clenched inside his suit, a creeping sense of helplessness setting in.

"Calm down, Tony," a familiar voice cut through the Avengers' channel, smooth and steady. "We don’t need another scientist on the team turning big and green."

The tension in the air seemed to ease slightly. "You’re finally here, Dr. Banner," Steve responded, fending off another lunging demon with a powerful swing of his shield.

"Cap, I thought I was used to big fights," Bruce replied. "Didn’t think anything could top the Chitauri Invasion, but... this is worse."

Then came the transformation. 

In seconds, Bruce was gone, and in his place, the Hulk landed with a ground-shaking roar, throwing himself into the fray. 

His arrival gave the Avengers a much-needed advantage—but only for a moment.

Because then, something shifted.

A presence loomed over the battlefield, its aura of dread chilling even the most battle-hardened heroes.

"Since when did Earth develop forces other than the sorcerers?" a deep voice rumbled.

Perched atop the ruins of a collapsing building stood Belasco. 

His fiery gaze swept across the battlefield, watching the Avengers fight. 

But there was no concern in his expression. 

To him, these so-called heroes were nothing more than slightly larger ants.

"Oh my god!" Hawkeye's sharp eyes caught sight of the towering demon lord. "Anyone else seeing that big guy?"

Without hesitation, he nocked an explosive arrow and let it fly. 

The arrow shot across the battlefield, aimed directly at Belasco’s head. 

But before it could make contact—

It burned away.

The sheer heat radiating from Belasco incinerated the arrow mid-air, reducing it to a puff of ash before it could reach its target.

"Pathetic," Belasco said, his voice carrying across the battlefield. "But at least you have courage."

With deliberate ease, he reached for the enormous ten-meter-long sword strapped to his back and swung it through the air.

A wave of hellfire shot forward, cutting through the battlefield like a tidal wave of destruction.

"Oh, crap!" Clint's instincts screamed at him. In an instant, he fired a rope arrow, launching himself away at the last possible second.

BOOM!

The place he had been standing erupted into a raging inferno, the sheer heat warping the very air around it.

Chapter 12 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist

Within Limbo.

Tens of thousands of demons toiled in unison, constructing an immense magic circle. The formation sprawled across thousands of miles, stretching over two rivers of molten lava, consuming an unthinkable amount of obsidian in the process.

And all of this...

Was just to tear open the barrier between two dimensions.

More specifically, it was for one man—Mordo.

"Sir, the passage is open!"

"We just detected a highly concentrated wave of demonic energy on Earth!"

"There's no mistake—it has to be Mordo’s location!"

Belasco’s eyes burned with intensity as he listened to his underling's report. 

Clad in his battle-worn dimensional armor, he was armed to the teeth, his colossal sword strapped securely to his waist. He wasn’t taking any chances.

 Not when facing someone like the Ancient One—a true celestial-level powerhouse.

"This time, we will not fail."

"No matter what... we will finish what was left undone centuries ago!"

"We will harvest enough human souls!"

"We will make Limbo the greatest hell dimension of all!"

"Limbo... will rise again!"

Belasco’s rallying cry echoed through the infernal plane, stirring the demonic legions into a frenzy. But deep down, he wasn’t truly concerned about Mordo. The sorcerer was just a mortal—a pawn in a much larger scheme.

No, this was the opportunity of a lifetime.

A reason—no, a justification—for Limbo’s invasion of Earth.

"Ancient One, Ancient One... you never expected this day to come, did you?"

Belasco flexed his armored gauntlet, revealing a jagged scar that marred his left forearm. A souvenir left by the Ancient One during his failed invasion centuries ago.

Now, it was time to return the favor.

Meanwhile, at the edge of Hell’s Border, the demons were mobilizing.

Luke, oblivious to the looming threat, arrived at the port Daredevil had mentioned.

"Didn’t you say Kingpin would be here himself?" Luke muttered, perched atop a warehouse rooftop, eyes scanning the bustling figures below.

Daredevil crouched beside him, head tilted, listening intently to the activity below.

"I hear a strong heartbeat. It’s gotta be Kingpin’s right-hand man, Bullseye."

"You can hear their heartbeats?" Luke asked, skeptical. He knew Daredevil had heightened senses, but this was pushing it.

"Being blind has its perks," Daredevil smirked.

Still, something was off. Their intel suggested Kingpin himself would be here, yet he was nowhere in sight—

"Wait a second."

Daredevil suddenly tensed.

 In the distance, a jet-black, full-sized SUV rolled onto the scene. 

It was massive, even larger than standard vehicles, exuding an air of dominance.

The car came to a halt.

A hulking figure squeezed out from within.

Bald head.

A physique that defied normal descriptions—not just fat, but an overwhelming mass of sheer power.

"That’s Kingpin," Daredevil confirmed.

"No kidding~" Luke scoffed. 'Like I wouldn’t recognize that body type.' he inwardly thought,

As Kingpin stepped forward, the warehouse workers instantly halted their tasks.

"Boss!" they shouted in unison.

"Keep working," Kingpin ordered, his tone calm but absolute. "The shipment must be ready before the Mexicans arrive."

"Yes, sir!" came the immediate response.

A man with a bullseye tattoo on his forehead approached Kingpin.

"Boss."

"What is it, Bullseye?" Kingpin asked, his cold gaze locking onto his enforcer.

"No trouble yet, but I’ve got a bad feeling. Could be like last time."

"You mean... Daredevil and the Punisher?"

At the mention of their names, a murderous glint flashed through Kingpin’s eyes.

"The Punisher’s not a concern for now. He’s not dead, but my men left him in pretty bad shape."

"As for Daredevil..."

Kingpin’s lips curled into a wicked grin.

"His fate will be decided soon enough."

His grin widened, dark and predatory.

"Whoever crosses me... will not live to regret it."

"What are we waiting for?"

"Why haven’t you made a move yet?"

Daredevil crouched on the rooftop, his masked face turned toward Luke with visible impatience.

 Kingpin was already here, and the deal was about to go down. 

So why were they still sitting back?

"We wait for everyone to arrive." Luke’s voice was calm, but his eyes were sharp. "This few people? Not enough blood."

Daredevil’s frown deepened, but before he could press further, movement near the port caught their attention.

 A speedboat arrived, carrying more men—Kingpin’s guests.

"That’s our cue," Luke muttered.

The two groups convened inside the warehouse. 

From their vantage point, Luke and Daredevil could now see what was being traded: crates upon crates of advanced weaponry.

"Damn…" Luke’s eyes narrowed. "Those are Stark Tech weapons."

"Yeah," Daredevil confirmed, his voice steady.

 "Stark stopped selling them, but last month, one of his storage sites was hit. This must be the stolen inventory."

Luke cracked his knuckles. "That means we can move."

Daredevil turned to him. "Right, let’s—"

Before he could finish, Luke had already leaped through the warehouse vent, dropping straight into the middle of the deal.

"Everything’s here. No doubts about Stark Industries’ quality, right?"

Laughter echoed in the warehouse. 

The exchange was running smoothly—cash and jewelry were being traded for weapons without a hitch.

Then—

THUD!

Something heavy hit the ground between the two groups. Hard.

Kingpin and the other party froze, eyes wide as they stared at the figure now crouched between them.

"...Is this one of yours?" one of the other party's leaders asked.

"No," Kingpin replied, eyes narrowing.

The realization hit at the same time for both sides.

"Kill him!" Kingpin roared.

Guns were drawn, and in an instant, bullets sprayed across the warehouse. 

The Mo faction hesitated only a moment before joining in, unwilling to let an unknown variable interfere with their deal.

Luke remained crouched, bullets whizzing past. 

Then, in the blink of an eye, his form twisted into a shadow, darting across the warehouse like a living specter.

He wasn’t the fastest in terms of raw speed, but to those watching, he was nothing but a blur. 

A nightmare.

One by one, men fell, their screams filling the air. 

Luke’s strikes were precise—bones snapped, limbs twisted at unnatural angles.

 He was holding back. 

Barely.

As the last grunt hit the ground with a pained groan, Luke straightened, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the warm-up.

"Told you it was for your own good."

His gaze shifted to the only two left standing: Bullseye and Kingpin.

Kingpin’s expression was unreadable, leaning against his cane, exuding his usual air of power and control. 

Bullseye, on the other hand, was visibly tense, twin throwing knives gripped tightly in his hands. 

He twirled them, hesitated, then twirled them again—stalling.

"You," Kingpin finally spoke, his deep voice measured, "I don't even know who you are. Why are you doing this?"

Luke cracked his neck, eyes locked onto Bullseye. "Hold that thought. I’ll deal with him first."

Luke ignored Kingpin and walked straight toward Bullseye.

"Damn it!"

Bullseye’s jaw tightened as he realized there was no escape.

 Gritting his teeth, he flicked two throwing knives with deadly precision, aiming straight for Luke’s eyes.

Clink! Clink!

Luke didn’t even flinch. The knives bounced harmlessly off his eyelids.

"Seriously? You think a couple of knives are gonna do what high-caliber bullets couldn’t?" Luke chuckled to himself before closing the distance. 

With a swift motion, he slapped Bullseye hard enough to send him spinning through the air like a ragdoll before crashing to the ground.

"Alright, that’s one down…" Luke muttered, turning—

A sudden rush of air.

"Look out!"

Daredevil’s voice rang out as he scrambled onto a nearby platform. 

He had barely caught his breath before he saw Kingpin launching a sneak attack at Luke from behind.

BOOM!

Despite his size, Kingpin moved with alarming speed, his punch sending Daredevil flying before he could even react. 

He smashed into a shipping container several meters away, groaning as he hit the ground, blood dripping from his mouth.

Luke turned, frowning at the sight. "Wait, hold on… You took that hit for me?"

Daredevil coughed and spat blood.

"You’re bleeding all over the place. Should’ve saved it and given it to me later," Luke quipped, shaking his head. 

Still, he appreciated the gesture. "Appreciate the hero move, but there was really no need,"

Then his gaze locked onto Kingpin.

"And you? You’re dead meat."

Kingpin smirked, unbuttoning his suit jacket and letting it fall. 

Underneath, his massive frame wasn’t just fat—it was almost pure muscle.

"You think I got where I am just by sitting behind a desk?" Kingpin cracked his knuckles, stepping forward into a fighting stance.

Luke raised an eyebrow at the thick rolls of muscle. "Let me guess… sponsored by Michelin tires?"

Kingpin’s eyes flared with rage. "I’LL KILL YOU!"

He charged.

Luke grinned. 

Finally, an opponent who could take a few hits. 

He clenched his right fist, channeling half his strength into it.

BAM!

Their fists met mid-air with an earth-shaking impact. 

A sickening crack echoed through the warehouse—Kingpin’s wrist twisted violently, bending at an unnatural angle.

But Luke wasn’t done. 

His punch kept going.

CRACK!

His fist connected squarely with Kingpin’s gut. 

The massive crime lord—easily over 400 pounds—was suddenly weightless.

 He flew backward like a human cannonball, tearing through a row of shipping containers, leaving gaping holes in their steel walls before coming to a stop.

Luke rolled his shoulders. "Still breathing? Damn. You're a one tough bastard."

Kingpin groaned, barely conscious.

Luke sighed. "Alright, everyone still pretending to be dead? Time to get up."

He pulled out a small kit from his belt. "Here’s the deal: each of you gives me 800ml of blood, and in return… you get to leave with all your limbs intact. Sound fair?"

Chapter 11 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist

There is also the DC Universe next door in the game!

"Batman is locked in on the fifth floor! If you won’t give him up, at least play him right! Check the stats!"

As soon as Luke entered the game, he immediately started a "friendly" exchange with his teammates.

"You absolute fuck! Your record is a disaster, and you have the nerve to ask for a pick?"

Seeing someone calling him out, Luke glanced at their ID.

"[Florida Doesn’t Raise Idlers]… Really?"

He scoffed. "Don’t block my pick, or I’ll show you what five Batarangs in a second looks like!"

Despite the heated exchange, no one gave up their chosen spot. 

The result? An inevitable, crushing defeat.

"Are you seriously playing Batman?"

"Do you even know how to use a Batarang?"

As the match ended, Luke saw [Florida Doesn’t Raise Idlers] spamming the chat with trash talk. 

His face darkened.

The next match began.

And who does he end up with as a teammate again?

[Florida Doesn’t Raise Idlers].

Once again, the match ended in disaster.

"Batman?! Again?!"

"Dude, do you have no shame picking him?!"

As soon as the game ended, [Florida Doesn’t Raise Idlers] went off in the chat, typing at rapid speed.

"…"

Luke's eye twitched. 

"[Florida Doesn’t Raise Idlers], right? Oh, you’re gonna learn today."

His expression turned ice cold.

Without hesitation, he reached for the magic book he had borrowed from Wong.

Unfortunately, after flipping through it for a while, he couldn’t find a single spell that would let him punch someone through the internet.

"No way! I refuse to let this slide!"

……

A little while later.

At Kamar-Taj.

After listening to Luke’s story, Wong's round face was filled with confusion.

"…Wait. You're telling me… you want to use a high-level spell because of a video game?"

Wong just couldn't process it.

But, sighing, he still handed over a magic book. "Here, knock yourself out."

"You wouldn't understand," Luke said with a depressed act.

He didn’t bother explaining further.

He quickly opened the book, ran through the incantations a few times, and activated the spell.

Soon, demonic energy fused into the magic circle, forming a surge of mystical power that swept across dimensions.

At last, it locked onto a location.

A small town in Florida.

"[Florida Doesn’t Raise Idlers]… I’m coming for you."

Luke smirked as he opened a portal, cracked his knuckles, and stepped through.

……

"Yo, yo, isn’t this Superman? What, you think you’re good or something?"

"Haha, Iron Man? Really? Playing ADC? You suck, dude. Go get a job."

Luke stepped out of the portal and immediately spotted his target—a cocky thirteen-year-old white kid, hunched over his phone, talking mad trash.

That voice, that smug tone…

It was him.

[Florida Doesn’t Raise Idlers].

"Just a little more and I’ll break my kill record—c’mon, Fight me sonovabitch! Hahaha—"

The kid suddenly stopped laughing, mid-taunt. 

His shoulders stiffened. 

Slowly, he turned his head.

He wasn’t alone anymore.

His wide eyes met Luke’s masked face. But this wasn’t just any mask.

It looked like Batman’s, but it was warped, terrifying—a monstrous version created from demonic energy.

"Y-you… you… Who are you?!"

The kid’s voice trembled.

Luke tilted his head slightly. "What do you think?"

"Are you… Batman?!"

"Bingo~!" Luke clapped sarcastically.

Then, with glowing scarlet eyes, he stepped forward.

"AAAAAHHHH!!"

"HELP!!!"

"BATMAN'S ATTACKING ME!!!"

A high-pitched scream rang out through the quiet town.

Some kids talk trash online for fun.

Tonight, Luke decided to have a little fun of his own.

...

The next morning, Luke woke up feeling more refreshed than he had in a long time.

"Man, that was a good sleep!" he muttered, stretching his arms above his head.

This was the first time in ages he’d slept so peacefully. No stress, no chaos, just a solid night’s rest.

"I should pace myself with this kind of thing. If I keep pulling all-nighters, I’ll ruin my sleep schedule," he mused.

Feeling particularly upbeat, Luke stepped outside, greeting every neighbor he passed. 

First impressions mattered, and he wanted to be seen as the friendly new guy in the community.

In no time, he had become the charming young man next door, always polite and smiling. 

If he hadn’t walked away so quickly, some of the older ladies might have even started introducing him to their granddaughters.

Some things never change—no matter where you are, aunties will always be aunties.

After leaving the apartment complex, he found a small diner and settled in for breakfast.

"Maybe I should take a stroll around Avengers Tower later," he thought while sipping his coffee.

Unlike other people who got pulled into crazy Marvel-level antics, Luke saw himself as more of a tourist.

Why rush into battles when you could just kick back, eat, drink, and enjoy the sights?

"Eh, if anything truly apocalyptic happens, the bald guy in the robe will handle it."

By Luke’s calculations, there were still two years before the Ancient One was set to die. 

That meant Thanos and all the cosmic disasters were still a long way off. 

He had plenty of time to enjoy himself before the universe decided to implode.

"Once I get bored, I’ll start thinking about saving the world," he chuckled.

Just as he was finishing up his meal and getting ready to leave, his phone buzzed on the table. 

He glanced at the caller ID: 'Pointed Bread.'

"What’s up, Pointed Bread?" Luke answered casually.

The nickname was his way of poking fun at Daredevil’s tiny devil-horned mask.

"I found Kingpin," Daredevil’s serious voice came through the phone.

Luke immediately perked up.

"The Overlord Gang is making a deal with the Mexicans at a warehouse in Port Jefferson today," Daredevil continued. "This one's big—Kingpin is showing up in person."

Now, Luke had not forgotten about Kingpin—far from it.

 He just didn’t feel like wasting energy looking for him.

 Daredevil and Kingpin were old rivals anyway; it made sense to let Matt do the detective work.

Besides, using magic to hunt down every criminal wasn’t practical.

 Not everyone was as insufferable as [Florida Doesn’t Raise Idlers].

 Blowing through a ton of magic for just one crime boss? 

That was overkill.

"Alright, got it," Luke said, playing it cool.

Then he hesitated. "By the way, how much is this deal worth?"

"Not sure on the exact amount," Daredevil admitted. "But if Kingpin is there himself, it’s got to be at least ten million."

Luke paused.

"... Hold that thought. I’m on my way."

In one swift motion, he hung up, found a quiet alley, and conjured a fiery portal.

Avengers Tower could wait. 

It wasn’t like he could eat it.

With a grin, he stepped through the portal.

Meanwhile—

Just moments after Luke vanished into the swirling flames, something strange happened less than a hundred meters from where he had stood.

The ground trembled before splitting open, revealing a jagged, several-meter-long crack.

A blast of hot air rushed out, carrying with it a thick, sulfuric stench.

Chapter 10 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist

After the attack by Kingpin's men, Daredevil knew he couldn’t stay in the safe house anymore. Not that it was particularly safe to begin with.

After saying farewell to Daredevil, Luke made his way to Queens alone.

He arrived at the house Daredevil had rented for him, a modest bungalow in a quiet neighborhood.

To his surprise, the house next door belonged to none other than Ben Parker's family.

That’s right—the Ben Parker. The same one who would one day shape Spider-Man’s destiny.

Though at this point, Peter Parker was still just a regular high school kid.

And how did Luke know that for sure?

Because Uncle Ben was still alive.

When Luke arrived, he spotted the old man casually watering the flowers on his balcony, completely unaware of the fate that awaited him in the near future.

The house Daredevil had set him up with was a typical American-style bungalow, much like the rest of the homes lining the street.

Two floors, a small front yard, a garage, and even a basement.

Luke pushed open the door.

The place was fully furnished with all the essentials, ready for immediate move-in.

Not that Luke had much to move in with.

Just two suitcases. Both filled with money.

Other than cash, he didn’t have much to his name.

He let out a satisfied sigh and flopped onto the couch.

"Finally, a place to crash."

Now, he had money, an identity, and a home.

It wasn’t much, but in the Marvel world, it was a start.

"Next step—pay a little visit to Kingpin and borrow some blood. I need to summon the Shadow Demon."

He smirked at the thought and switched on the TV, stretching out in full relaxation mode, just like a certain well-known gangster boss in the movies.

He had just started to settle in when—

Ding-dong!

The doorbell rang.

Luke groaned and got up, his expression less than thrilled as he opened the door.

Standing outside was a teenage boy holding a plate of freshly made pancakes, the steam still rising from them.

"Hi, my name’s Peter Parker. I live next door," the boy said with a bright, sincere smile. "My aunt made these and wanted me to bring some over to welcome you to the neighborhood."

Luke blinked in surprise, then quickly recovered, accepting the plate with a grin.

"Nice to meet you, Peter Parker, I'm Luke Constantine. Btw, thank your Aunt for me That’s really nice of her." He took a bite and nodded in approval.

"And Tell your aunt these are great!" he added with a mouthful of pancake.

There was no point in being cold to someone this friendly.

Plus, free food was free food.

Peter nodded. "Also, my Uncle Ben thought you might not have had time to cook yet, so he wants to invite you over for dinner tonight."

Luke stared at the kid, momentarily speechless.

This family… they really were as kind-hearted as the comics made them out to be.

After agreeing to join them for dinner, Luke watched as Peter jogged back home.

He couldn’t help but shake his head in amusement.

This kind of warm neighborly welcome wasn’t unusual, especially in friendly communities like this.

It made sense that the Parker family would be the type to uphold the tradition.

That evening, Luke arrived at the Parker household on time and rang the doorbell.

Of course, he didn’t come empty-handed.

He brought along a bottle of red wine and a box of chocolates as a small gesture of appreciation.

Soon, the door swung open, revealing a warm and charming woman in her late thirties. She greeted him with a welcoming smile.

"You must be Peter Parker’s aunt, right?" Luke said, handing over the bottle of wine and chocolate. "Thanks for the pancakes earlier. They were really delicious."

The woman chuckled and shook her head playfully. "Just call me Aunt May, like Peter does."

Her inviting demeanor eased Luke’s usual guarded nature.

She motioned for him to come inside, and as he stepped in, he found himself in a cozy, lived-in home.

Around the dining table sat Peter Parker, his uncle Ben, and two more guests—a chubby kid with an enthusiastic expression and a beautiful blonde girl.

Peter stood up, gesturing to Luke.

"Everyone, this is, Luke Constantine," Pete introduced, I looked at them and nodded,

"Luke, this is my Uncle Ben." The older man gave Luke a firm nod.

"And these are my best friends—Ned Leeds and Gwen Stacy."

Luke exchanged greetings with everyone before taking a seat at the table.

Aunt May soon brought out a spread of home-cooked dishes.

The air filled with the aroma of roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and freshly baked bread.

Unlike the quiet, formal meals Luke was used to, this dinner was lively, full of conversations and laughter.

He let himself relax, joining in the friendly banter, his usual guarded nature slipping away little by little.

Just as he was settling into the warm atmosphere, something shifted beyond the realm of reality.

—

Far away, in a dimension outside of time and space, in the depths of Limbo, a grand and sinister palace loomed.

The air crackled with dark energy.

Inside the vast hall, kneeling before a throne of molten stone, was N'astirh, the first demon Luke had ever summoned.

He trembled, not daring to lift his head.

Before him sat an immense and terrifying figure—the lord of Limbo, Belasco.

The demon lord's voice boomed through the chamber.

"So, you were the first to be summoned by the one they call 'Mordo'?" His words carried an overwhelming force, making N'astirh's body tremble.

"Y-yes, my lord..." N'astirh stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I did not expect it... The ritual—"

A parchment fell from the air, landing before the kneeling demon.

"Was it this ceremony?" Belasco demanded.

N'astirh carefully picked up the parchment, his eyes widening in horror.

"Yes! My lord, this is it!" He could never forget the intricate markings, the dark incantations—this was the exact summoning ritual that had pulled him to Earth.

Belasco rose from his throne, his enormous form casting a shadow that stretched across the palace.

"The sorcerers of Kamar-Taj..." His voice was laced with fury. "They have violated our agreement!"

Two centuries ago, the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj had used forbidden rituals to summon demons for combat training.

When Belasco and the other Hell Lords discovered this, they forced Kamar-Taj to abandon such practices.

But now, only two hundred years later, the ritual had been used again—this time with even greater consequences.

His fiery eyes burned with rage. "Ancient One... you have gone too far."

The air in the chamber grew heavy, thick with dark energy.

"Prepare the dimensional gateway," Belasco ordered, his voice seething with wrath. "This time, I will go to Earth myself!"

...

"Luke, so you're in the credit business?"

"Ah, yeah. It's a broad field, but I usually take on out-of-town orders. I don’t do local work."

"Wow, young and successful. That's impressive."

The dinner conversation flowed effortlessly, making the evening pleasant for everyone.

By the time the meal was over, Luke had successfully gotten to know Peter Parker’s family—his kind-hearted Uncle Ben and Aunt May—as well as Peter’s two close friends, Ned and Gwen.

Especially Gwen.

That was surprising.

Under normal circumstances, Ned's presence usually indicated this was the Tom Holland version of Spider-Man—the MCU’s third-generation web-slinger.

In that world, Gwen Stacy didn’t exist.

Instead, the main love interest was Michelle Jones, or MJ.

But here Gwen Stacy was, sitting at the dinner table.

"This... shouldn’t be a Spider-Gwen universe, should it?" Luke mused silently.

The Marvel multiverse was filled with countless variations.

Any slight shift in reality could change who would ultimately become Spider-Man—or if Peter would even become Spider-Man at all.

–––––––

The night carried on with laughter and casual conversation, making it the most relaxing evening Luke had experienced since arriving in this world.

Eventually, the dinner came to an end, and before parting ways, Luke exchanged contact information with everyone before heading back to his own home.

Dropping onto the sofa, he let out a deep sigh. "You know, if you ignore all the messed-up stuff, the Marvel world would actually be a nice place to live."

No Thanos.

No alien invasions.

No insane villains trying to destroy reality itself.

In a peaceful version of Marvel, this neighborhood would actually be a great place to retire.

The people were kind, the atmosphere was friendly...

"The only downside? There’s barely anything entertaining to do."

Luke picked up his phone, staring at the outdated tech in his hands. Marvel's world was one of extremes—on one hand, Tony Stark had micro-nuclear fusion, alien exosuits, and holographic AI assistants.

On the other, civilian technology was so behind that it was laughable.

Take his phone, for example—the latest model of the "Stark" brand. It still had massive top and bottom bezels, practically big enough to land an aircraft carrier on.

And this was considered high-end! Meanwhile, Peter Parker was still using an old-school slider phone.

This massive gap between advanced and everyday technology was even more obvious in entertainment.

The Marvel world lacked good video games—there were only one or two decent ones, and none that truly stood out as groundbreaking.

"They have holographic projection tech, yet no one’s thought of making a head-mounted VR for gaming? Unforgivable."

Luke shook his head.

If developers from his old world were here, they’d be in absolute shock at how underdeveloped entertainment was.

Still, with nothing better to do, he unlocked his phone and opened one of the few decent games available— Super Premier League.

That’s right.

It was essentially a fusion of League of Legends, Marvel, and even DC!

Chapter 9 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist

Daredevil's serious expression proved that he was definitely not joking.

In his mind, if Luke insisted on making him do something evil—something that went against his conscience—then he would rather fight to the death!

"Uh..."

Seeing Daredevil’s unwavering resolve, Luke hesitated for a moment. He hadn't expected such a dramatic reaction. 

But in the end, he decided to just say it.

"Actually, I just wanted to ask if you know someone who can help me get a legal identity. Money isn't an issue."

"..."

Daredevil’s expression froze.

That’s it?

He had been mentally preparing for a life-or-death struggle, only for Luke to ask about paperwork?

"Well, I do know some people who can help with that." Daredevil looked slightly confused, his stance relaxing. 

To ease the awkwardness, he even considered paying for it himself.

"No need for money. Just an identity. No problem."

"Then you’re quite the generous guy."

Luke grinned, genuinely pleased. 

But he couldn't help but poke at Daredevil a little more.

"By the way, lawyer, is it illegal to forge an identity in America?"

"..."

"You're doing this on purpose."

Daredevil's face turned red. 

He knew Luke was teasing him because of his earlier statement about not doing anything illegal.

"Heh~ Maybe there's a chance I’m actually Batman, just visiting from the DC universe. So, I have no idea what your world’s laws are."

"Absolutely not!" Daredevil snapped.

With Daredevil—more precisely, Matt Murdock’s—connections, Luke had his new identity within two days.

A full set: driver's license, passport, SSN, and even a brand-new phone with a working SIM card.

"Appreciate it. If you ever run into trouble, just drop by 177A Bleecker Street and mention my name."

Luke, who had been lounging in front of the computer playing games, took the documents and examined them. 

He had spent the past two days in Daredevil’s apartment, reading up on this world’s version of Marvel lore online.

Something felt... different.

Unlike the Marvel Cinematic Universe he was familiar with, this world wasn’t just limited to the well-known superheroes.

 It also had records of werewolves and vampires—though they were treated more like urban legends than confirmed facts.

Luke speculated that this world was a mix of all Marvel movies and TV series.

Except for mutants.

He had searched extensively but found no trace of them. 

Odd.

"177A Bleecker Street?" Matt repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Alright, I’ll remember it."

He said that, but in truth, he didn’t take it seriously. 

He assumed Luke was just throwing out random nonsense, and he had gotten used to it.

But this time, Matt was wrong.

Because 177A Bleecker Street was actually the address of the New York Sanctum!

"I rented an apartment for you in Queens. You can live there from now on."

Matt pulled out a key and handed it to Luke.

Over the past two days, he had listened to Luke rambling about rituals, sacrifices, summoning beings from other dimensions—at this point, Matt was starting to suspect the guy was the leader of some cult.

 He just wanted him gone.

Luke accepted the key with a nod. 

Then, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, he casually asked:

"Oh, by the way, do you know anyone who works at a blood bank? I need to buy a few hundred kilograms of human blood."

Matt nearly choked on air.

Matt Murdock narrowed his eyes behind his red mask. "Why do you need so much blood?"

Luke grinned. "If I said it was to maintain world peace, would you believe me?"

Matt’s face remained impassive, his expression practically screaming, 'What do you think?'

"Yeah, figured as much," Luke shrugged. "Look, the city’s full of people. If I had bad intentions, would I really be buying blood instead of just... you know?"

Matt exhaled sharply but nodded. He might not fully understand Luke’s intentions, but the logic made sense.

"Fine. I’ll see what I can do.".

"Yeah, see what you can do... get it? See? Y'know because you'r—"

"I get it, i get it,"

For a blind lawyer, Matt Murdock had a terrifying network of contacts. 

If there was anyone who could get something done in New York, it was him.

"Appreciate it, man," Luke said, stretching as he stood up.

Suddenly, a sharp sense of danger pricked at his nerves.

 Instinctively, he turned toward the window.

A missile streaked through the sky, trailing smoke, heading straight for them.

For a brief second, Luke’s mind conjured the classic action-movie soldier yelling, 'RPG!' But reality had no slow-motion sequence.

BOOM!

The explosion shattered the window, sending fire and debris tearing through the apartment.

 Flames engulfed the room in an instant.

Coughing through the smoke, Luke walked out of the blaze, completely unharmed. 

A battered but conscious Daredevil was pulled from the wreckage by sheer luck and resilience.

Luke stepped toward the window, spotting figures on the rooftop opposite.

 They were reloading a second rocket launcher.

"Did you get exposed?" Luke asked, cracking his neck.

Matt, still hacking up smoke, shook his head. "Doubt it. They must’ve just tracked my safe house."

"Didn't you say this place was secure?" Luke raised a brow.

"I..." Matt hesitated. 

Even the best make mistakes.

His sharp ears caught the murmuring of their attackers. 

"They're Kingpin’s men. I shut down a deal worth tens of millions last week."

Luke let out a low whistle. "Tens of millions? Yeah, I’d want you dead too."

Ignoring Matt’s glare, Luke shoved the shattered door open and stepped outside.

"He’s coming out!" a thug yelled from the rooftop. "Shoot him!"

Bullets poured down like rain.

Luke barely flinched. "Tsk. Feels like a mosquito bite."

Small-caliber rounds were useless against him. 

Ever since he gained his first demonic power, he’d tested it.

 Pistols? Nothing. Rifles? Still nothing. 

Now? Completely pointless.

"What the hell? He’s not going down!" one of the shooters panicked. 

"Use the RPG!"

Luke cracked his knuckles. "Too late."

With a thunderous stomp, the floor beneath him exploded. 

He launched himself into the air, crossing the distance like a human cannonball.

"Oh, hell—" The lead thug barely had time to react before Luke landed in front of him.

The man emptied his magazine, but all he got in return was a dull 'click' from his empty chamber.

Luke smirked. "Next time, go for an extended mag."

Before the thug could even scream, Luke swatted him like a fly. 

The man sailed off the rooftop, landing with a sickening crunch seven stories below.

"Joe’s dead! He killed Joe!" another thug shrieked.

The remaining men opened fire in sheer desperation.

It made no difference.

One by one, they fell to Luke’s overwhelming slap,

"Parker!" another one,

"Go to hell!"

The last remaining thug finally loaded the RPG. 

He didn’t care if the explosion would take him out too—he just wanted Luke dead. 

With shaking hands, he aimed the rocket launcher directly at Luke and pulled the trigger.

Boom!

The rocket shot forward at blistering speed, heading straight for its target.

Luke caught it mid-air.

For a split second, the thug’s brain refused to comprehend what had just happened. 

Then, before he could even react, the rocket exploded in Luke’s grip—

—but the next moment, Luke stepped out of the fireball completely unharmed. 

Even his clothes were intact, shielded by the supernatural barrier of his Supreme Exorcist powers.

The last thug collapsed to his knees.

 His breath came in short, panicked gasps, his mind snapping under the sheer horror of what he had just witnessed.

“Devil... you’re the devil...” he whispered, his sanity slipping away.

Luke didn’t bother replying. 

He simply grabbed the man by the collar and flung him off the rooftop.

Splat.

...

With the last threat eliminated, Luke made his way downstairs, rolling his shoulders like he had just finished a light workout.

By the time he reached the ground, Matt Murdock—fully suited up as Daredevil—had just arrived. 

He had clearly hurried over after hearing the chaos above.

“You...” Daredevil’s voice was tense. “Did you kill them all?”

Though he couldn’t see the bodies, his other senses told him everything he needed to know. 

The overwhelming scent of blood, the scattered, broken bodies... it was a massacre.

“What else was I supposed to do?” Luke muttered, his expression unreadable.

Truthfully, this was his first time killing someone.

 He wasn’t exactly comfortable with it, but what was he supposed to do? 

Let them live after they tried to blow him up?

 He knew he’d have to get used to this sooner or later.

“You could’ve subdued them. Called the police,” Daredevil said, his jaw tight.

Luke let out a humorless chuckle. 

“Oh yeah, because they were totally going to sit quietly and wait for the cops while reloading an RPG.” 

He scoffed. 

“Do I look like a Boy Scout to you?”

Daredevil frowned but didn’t respond.

Luke exhaled and glanced around at the blood-soaked scene.

 Then he suddenly froze.

“Damn it,” he muttered.

Daredevil raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I really shouldn’t have killed them...” Luke said, shaking his head as if scolding himself.

Daredevil’s brows furrowed. 

For a moment, he thought Luke might be having second thoughts, maybe realizing the weight of what he had done.

Then Luke sighed dramatically.

“I should’ve saved them for blood draws.”

Daredevil blinked. “What?”

“So much blood... wasted,” Luke groaned, looking at the crimson pooling on the ground like a disappointed scientist who had just spilled an expensive chemical.

Daredevil pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re just like Frank...” he muttered.

He compared Luke to Frank, a.k.a. the Punisher in terms of how they deal their enemies.

“This won’t end here,” Daredevil warned. “Kingpin’s people will find out you did this, and when they do, they’ll come after you.”

Luke merely shrugged. “Let ‘em come.”

Daredevil wanted to argue, but he knew Luke was beyond reasoning. 

Luke grinned. “You don't need to find me a blood bank anymore, I think I just found my supplier.”

"..."

Chapter 8 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist

"Damn it!"

"If only I had come half a year earlier!"

Luke slapped his thigh in frustration.

At this point, Tony Stark had already discovered a new element and solved his palladium poisoning issue. 

Just like that, Luke missed out on a major money-making opportunity as a transmigrator!

(The first big money-making gig, of course, was the cave rescue.)

"Wait a minute..."

"Did I miss something?"

Suddenly, a realization hit him.

The events of Iron Man 3 take place after Avengers 1.

Tony Stark, struggling with PTSD from carrying a nuclear bomb into a black hole, was about to face off against his old rival, Aldrich Killian, and his Extremis-powered soldiers.

 A classic superhero-versus-villain showdown.

"Such a nice house... wasted just like that."

Looking back at the plot of Iron Man 3, all Luke could think about was Tony's luxurious seaside mansion getting blown to bits.

Poor guy.

Then, a thought crossed his mind—how did other transmigrators and reincarnators make money in situations like this? 

Aside from Stark’s fortune, what other big-shot had some gold to "borrow"?

Luke rubbed his chin, contemplating his options.

 Maybe he should find a high-level boss and convince them to lend him some startup cash.

Boom—!

Just as he was lost in thought, a sudden explosion echoed from the street.

The screeching of tires followed, then gunshots and shouting.

"???"

Luke hadn't even figured out what was happening yet, but inside the small breakfast diner, the other customers had already dived under their tables.

One smooth motion. 

Perfectly executed.

Clearly, they had done this before.

A cash transport truck roared past the window.

Black smoke poured from its damaged trunk, and as it sped by, green dollar bills fluttered into the air, scattering across the street like confetti.

"Live-action GTA?" Luke muttered, immediately recognizing the scene—a good old-fashioned armored truck heist.

Sirens blared in the distance.

 Overhead, the rhythmic whirring of helicopter blades signaled the incoming authorities.

"Classic Hell's Kitchen. That’s at least three stars already."

Following his lifelong principle of never missing out on an interesting scene, Luke stood up decisively.

"Kid!"

"Are you crazy? Get down!"

The older woman behind the breakfast counter shot him a sharp look, her voice filled with concern.

Luke flashed her a reassuring grin and stepped outside.

The moment he did, a loose hundred-dollar bill—carrying the scent of smoke and adrenaline—drifted through the air toward him.

He snatched it effortlessly.

"Nice. One hundred more for the savings."

Looking at the piles of scattered cash littering the street, Luke didn’t join the bystanders scrambling to grab what they could.

Instead, he turned in the direction the getaway truck had gone.

As he walked, he flipped open the magical tome he had borrowed from Wong, scanning through its contents while weaving between debris and abandoned vehicles.

"Tracking magic… hmm, this could work."

He held up the hundred-dollar bill, carefully tracing a symbol in the air while murmuring an incantation under his breath.

As the Ancient One had taught, most spells functioned as frameworks—fill them with the right energy, and they became reality.

The dollar bill in Luke's hand instantly ignited in a flickering hellfire, radiating a dark, eerie aura.

The ashes twisted and rose into the air, forming a spectral arrow that only Luke could see, pointing firmly in one direction.

"Hell yeah!"

"I am a magical prodigy!"

Seeing his spell was successful, Luke was overjoyed.

Luke took the magic book titled 'Basic and Practical Magic for Beginners' and followed the glowing arrow through the city streets.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town...

A police helicopter hovered in the sky, tracking the movements of the stolen cash transport truck.

"Target lost! Target lost! The suspect’s vehicle has entered the D21 tunnel!"

"Requesting ground intervention!"

The officers waited, eyes scanning the tunnel exit. Yet, even after a long pause, the truck never emerged.

By the time the police cars arrived at the scene, all they found was an abandoned armored vehicle.

No suspects.

No money.

"Classic! Absolutely classic!"

Luke stood outside the newly erected police barrier, watching the chaos with amusement.

As expected of New York City.

You could witness a full Hollywood-style heist just by stepping outside.

"But seriously, where are the superheroes when you actually need them?" Luke muttered.

Without wasting time, he followed the magical arrow away from the tunnel and deeper into the city’s outskirts.

Eventually, the glowing trail led him to a sewer outlet near the docks.

The moment he arrived, he spotted several men crawling out of the sewer, drenched in filth and dragging along two large waterproof suitcases.

"Urgh—!" One of them gagged. "This stinks like hell!"

"Quit whining," another snapped. "At least we made it out alive."

"Xavier, check if the boat is still there. We leave the moment it's ready."

"On it!"

Luke observed from a distance. 

These guys were professionals—efficient, coordinated, and disciplined.

As soon as they reached the dock, they rinsed off, tore open the waterproof cases, and checked their loot.

Luke stretched.

Good. 

The dirty work was done.

Now it was time to play hero.

"I’d recommend putting the guns down and surrendering!"

Before Luke could make a move, another voice rang out.

A figure in red tights stood near the docks, gripping two short sticks. 

The small horns on his mask gave him away instantly.

—Daredevil.

"Wait a sec… Why is he here? And in broad daylight? Isn’t he more of a night shift kinda guy?" Luke frowned.

Before he could think further, the fight broke out.

The robbers didn’t hesitate. 

Realizing they were compromised, they pulled their weapons and opened fire.

It didn’t matter.

Daredevil weaved through the bullets with supernatural precision, closing the distance in seconds.

Within moments, one by one, the thugs were knocked out cold.

The vigilante worked efficiently, binding the unconscious criminals together with a length of rope, ready to turn them over to the authorities.

Then, suddenly—

He froze.

Daredevil's head snapped to the side, his senses alert.

"Who's there?"

His grip on his weapon tightened, and he pointed his stick in Luke’s direction.

Luke smirked, stepping out from his hiding spot.

"Not bad, Red. Your hearing’s sharp."

Daredevil didn’t relax.

"Who are you?"

Luke ignored the question, his gaze locked onto the two suitcases full of stolen cash.

"Y’know, I’ve been tailing these guys for a while. Feels kinda unfair for you to swoop in last minute and take all the credit."

Daredevil’s expression remained unreadable, but Luke could sense it—the slight change in his heartbeat.

He was uneasy.

No, not just uneasy. Afraid.

Luke chuckled.

Interesting.

He hadn’t even done anything yet, and the so-called "Man Without Fear" already sensed something… off about him.

Not human.

Not natural.

Something else.

"Who are you?" Daredevil asked again, this time more cautious.

Luke grinned mischievously.

"Me? I’m Batman."

Daredevil’s frown deepened for a second—before he sighed and put his weapons away.

"Really? You expect me to fall for that? You do know I read comics, right?"

Luke blinked.

"Wait. You’re blind. How the hell do you read comics?"

...

Daredevil: "You can't take this money away! It's the hard work of America's taxpayers..."

Luke: "You can't beat me."

...

Daredevil: "After taking this money, how are you any different from a common thief?"

Luke: "The difference? You can't beat me."

...

"..."

Daredevil was speechless.

He couldn't win.

He really couldn't win.

The sheer power radiating from Luke made Daredevil abandon any thought of resistance. 

He could only stand there, helpless, as Luke picked up two large boxes stuffed with U.S. dollars.

"You really think you could use Talk-no-Jutsu on me, you're 100 years too early for that, pal." Luke said as he went over the boxes containing the dollar bills.

"Yeah, this should be around 1.8 million," Luke said, hefting one of the boxes with a satisfied grin.

"More like 1.5 million." Daredevil's voice was calm. 

He had seen enough crime scenes to estimate the cash volume of a suitcase with ease.

Luke's grin widened. "Sharp eye, Mr. Lawyer."

One and a half million dollars.

 Just lying there. Waiting to be picked up. Wasn't that nice?

"Mr. Lawyer? You know who I am?!" Daredevil's expression tensed at the word.

"What do you think?" Luke smirked. "Don't forget—you can't beat me."

Daredevil froze.

Luckily, before the situation could escalate, a distant siren wailed through the night, breaking the tension.

"Ahem, I have to go," Daredevil muttered, eager to escape.

He never wanted to cross paths with this man again.

Who was he? 

Just some guy who talked a lot and—more importantly—was completely unbeatable.

"I have to go too," Luke mused.

 Then, almost casually, he added, "By the way, where are you headed?"

Daredevil grimaced.

No.

No way.

But the words echoed in his mind, taunting him—

"You can't beat me. You can't beat me."

With a resigned sigh, he gave in. 

"Fine. Follow me. I have a safe house nearby."

...

Soon, Luke followed Daredevil to a small, secluded rental house. 

Somewhere along the way, Daredevil had shed his vigilante persona, donning a sharp suit, dark sunglasses, and a blind cane—transforming back into Matt Murdock, the lawyer.

"It's safe here. Almost no one knows about this place." Matt unlocked the door.

A sharp smell of disinfectant and the faint, lingering scent of blood greeted them.

Luke wrinkled his nose. "Did someone die in here?"

Matt nearly choked.

"It's just where I treat my wounds. So, yeah, it smells a bit."

Luke silently walked over to the window, pulled back the curtains, and cracked it open.

Fresh air. 

Much better.

Matt leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "Alright. What do you want?"

He wasn't stupid. A powerhouse like Luke wouldn't tag along for no reason.

"Just so we're clear," Matt continued, his voice firm, "I won’t help you with anything illegal. Not even if you kill me."

Chapter 7 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist

It seemed that she wanted to be alone for a moment... to clear her mind.

Luke had no belongings to pack—after all, he had arrived at Kama Taj empty-handed. 

The only question now was: where should he go next?

As someone who had been thrown into this world and immediately taken to Kamar Taj, Luke knew next to nothing about the outside world.

 He wasn’t even sure what point in the timeline he was in. 

The only thing he could confirm was that the events of Doctor Strange hadn’t started yet—The Ancient One was still alive, and Stephen Strange was nowhere near becoming Sorcerer Supreme.

“Well, first thing’s first—gonna need a phone.” Luke muttered to himself. 

“A modern guy without a phone is like a sorcerer without magic.”

Patting his empty pockets, he sighed and headed toward Mordo.

The square was still a mess, with mages diligently repairing the shattered tiles. 

In the middle of it all, Mordo was mixing mortar, his sleeves rolled up as he worked alongside the apprentices. 

It was an amusing sight—who knew the great Mordo was so hands-on?

“Hey, brother, lend me some cash. I’m heading down the mountain.”

The moment Luke spoke, every mage nearby turned to look at him. S

ome with curiosity, others with suspicion.

 Clearly, his little incident hadn’t been forgotten.

Thankfully, Luke was thick-skinned enough to ignore them.

“Huh?” Mordo looked up, confused. 

Then his gaze drifted over the wreckage of the square, and a look of understanding—and guilt—settled on his face.

“Luke... I’m sorry,” Mordo said solemnly. 

“I shouldn’t have let you test your strength in the training grounds. This is all my fault. I really didn’t think it would end up like this.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. 

'Huh. That’s a new one.'

Mordo, apparently convinced that this entire fiasco was his doing, reached into his robes and pulled out all the cash he had—some crumpled bills and a few coins. 

He handed them over to Luke without hesitation.

“…Seriously?” Luke blinked, staring at the total sum. 

Four hundred bucks. And some loose change.

'Are all Kamar Taj wizards this broke?'

Still, he didn’t hesitate to pocket the money. “Don’t worry, man. A Lannister always pays his debts.”

Mordo frowned. “Who’s a Lannister?”

Luke chuckled but didn’t answer. 

Instead, he gave Mordo a final pat on the shoulder. “By the way, do yourself a favor—stay indoors for a while.”

With that cryptic warning, Luke stepped through a flaming portal.

The orange glow of the portal faded. 

When Luke opened his eyes, the serene, mystical aura of Kamar Taj was gone. 

Replacing it was the bright, bustling chaos of a modern metropolis.

Neon signs flickered in the distance, towering skyscrapers loomed overhead, and the air smelled of a mix of car exhaust and street food. 

He had arrived in the city at night, and judging by the familiar landmarks, there was no mistaking where he was.

New York.

Luke took a step forward, glancing at the street sign near the alley where he had landed. 

‘Clinton.’

“…Well, damn.”

Hell’s Kitchen.

He couldn’t help but laugh. 

Of all the places to land in the Marvel Universe, Hell’s Kitchen was the starter zone—the Novice Village where almost every upstart hero cut their teeth. 

It was practically a rite of passage to take down Kingpin and kickstart one’s legendary journey.

Kingpin, in turn, was unofficially known as the Novice Village Boss of Marvel’s underworld.

Luke exhaled and rubbed his chin. “Alright… so what the hell am I supposed to do here?”

He was a sorcerer from Kamar Taj.

 Hell’s Kitchen was a playground for street-level heroes—Daredevil, The Punisher, Jessica Jones. 

Compared to fighting demons and interdimensional threats, dealing with mobsters and gang wars felt… underwhelming.

It was like a veteran player accidentally queuing up for a beginner’s dungeon.

Taking to the streets.

Maybe it was the jet lag, but even though it was late at night, Luke didn’t feel the slightest bit tired.

He wasn’t alone, either—New York City never really slept, and Hell’s Kitchen was no exception.

Even in the dead of night, the streets buzzed with activity.

 The neon glow from bars and clubs painted the sidewalks in flickering colors, and the air carried a mix of car exhaust, greasy food, and something that smelled questionably illegal. 

Women in heavy makeup loitered at street corners, leaning into whispered conversations before disappearing into dark alleys with strangers. 

Groups of men, most of them covered in tattoos, gathered outside dingy nightclubs, engaged in hushed conversations.

They barely spared Luke a glance as he walked by.

“Is this really Marvel?” he muttered under his breath.

Where were the supervillains lurking in every alley? 

The alien invasions? 

The chaotic city battles? 

Wasn’t Hell’s Kitchen supposed to be a crime-infested warzone?

Just as he was starting to doubt reality—

"Hey!" A voice called out behind him, rhythmic and cocky.

Hell’s Kitchen never disappoints.

"Hand over the cash, now!"

Luke slowly turned around. 

In the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp, two men stood in front of him. 

Their dark clothing blended into the night, and each one clutched a knife.

No wonder he hadn’t noticed them before.

Luke let out a small sigh of relief.

“Hey! I’m talking to you! Are you deaf?” one of them snapped, stepping closer and waving his knife threateningly.

Luke didn’t hesitate.

With a casual flick of his wrist, he slapped the guy across the face.

Of course, he was careful! 

After the whole dynamometer incident at Kamar-Taj, he had learned to hold back. This was just a light tap—really, just a gentle ‘touch.’

But—

BANG!

The man flew backward as if he had just been hit by a wrecking ball.

 Teeth and blood sprayed into the air as he crashed into a building, crumpling to the ground in a heap. 

A slow, dark puddle began spreading beneath him.

Luke blinked.

"...Oops."

The second man stood frozen, his knife slipping from his fingers. 

His wide eyes darted between Luke and his now-unconscious friend, his mind clearly struggling to process what just happened.

Luke sighed. "Hey, your buddy’s got decent endurance—he just fell asleep mid-sentence."

The man flinched as Luke reached into his pocket.

When the Glock pistol Mordo had given him came into view, the robber visibly tensed.

"Now…" Luke aimed the gun at him lazily. "Hand over your cash. Quickly."

If the man had been paralyzed before, that changed instantly

. His survival instincts kicked in, and he fumbled in his pockets, pulling out a wad of crumpled bills and thrusting them toward Luke with trembling hands.

"See? That wasn’t so hard." Luke pocketed the money with a grin.

First night in America, and he had already doubled his cash. 

Not bad.

The man took a step back, ready to bolt.

"Hold on." Luke leveled the gun at him again. "I’ve got a question. Ever heard of the Avengers?"

"Of course!" The guy’s face lit up, his fear momentarily forgotten.

"The Avengers just saved New York from an alien invasion! It was insane, man!" 

His voice was suddenly full of energy. "Do you know how cool that was? Captain America is my favorite!"

"He has been my idol since childhood!"

Speaking of the Avengers and their idols, for a moment, the man even forgot his fear and started talking excitedly. 

It wasn't until he saw the cold barrel of the Glock that he snapped back to reality, his face turning pale as he clamped his mouth shut.

'Defeating the aliens not long ago... That means we're after Avengers 1,' Luke thought, piecing together the timeline from the man’s words.

But when he heard that the guy's idol was Captain America, Luke couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Really? Did Captain America teach you to mug people with a knife? Steve Rogers, you’re leading people astray!"

He sighed and waved the guy off. "Alright, leave your phone and scram."

The man, eager to get away, tossed his phone to Luke and took off without a second thought. 

Luke examined the device—it was a Stark phone model, still pristine, with the protective film barely peeled off. 

Clearly, another fine product acquired for "zero dollars."

"Not bad. I guess I won’t have to buy one."

—

The next morning, Luke was jolted awake by the sound of a phone ringing.

 He groggily reached out, answering without checking the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Rama, it's Franklin. Have you thought about what I told you last time?"

A deep voice, thick with a street accent, came through the line.

"Pull your head out of your ass! Who the fuck is Rama? Don't ever call me again for this nonsense you fuck, got it?"

Luke snapped and hung up.

 A second later, he remembered—the phone wasn’t his.

"Right... I ‘borrowed’ this thing."

The phone itself was fine, but the SIM card inside belonged to someone else.

"Guess I need to get my own number."

Stretching his arms, he thought about his next move. 

Getting a SIM card shouldn't be too difficult, especially in a place like this. 

Real-name registration? 

Pfft. This was America—everything was for sale at the right price.

Luke was finally getting a grasp of the world he had stepped into. 

One thing was crystal clear: with enough cash, you could get anything.

"Problem is, I don’t have any money..."

He pulled out a crumpled wad of bills from his pocket—just over a thousand dollars. 

Not nearly enough to sustain the lifestyle he was currently freeloading. 

Even his stay at the luxurious five-star hotel in Hell’s Kitchen? 

Yeah, that was ‘free’ too.

"Mordo was right," Luke muttered, slipping the Sling Ring onto his finger. "Teleportation really is the most practical spell."

A sharp alarm blared as soon as he disappeared from the hotel room. 

By the time security burst into the presidential suite, all they found was an empty bed and a window swinging slightly in the breeze.

Meanwhile, a few hundred meters away, Luke sat comfortably in a small breakfast café, enjoying hot steamed buns and a cup of soy milk.

He scrolled through the phone, scanning the news. "No reports about Ultron, no mention of Sokovia, and S.H.I.E.L.D. hasn't been disbanded yet…"

It all but confirmed his theory. "This means I'm somewhere between Avengers 1 and Avengers 2."

As he chewed thoughtfully, he saw an article pop up about Stark Tower officially being renamed Avengers Tower. 

The city was still buzzing from the Battle of New York, and the Avengers were at their peak popularity. 

On every corner of the internet, discussions about Earth's Mightiest Heroes dominated the headlines.