The night air in Havelstadt was heavy with silence, a haunting stillness that clung to the ruins like smoke. The city, or what was left of it, had been cordoned off by S.H.I.E.L.D., with armored guards stationed around the perimeter and cleanup crews having long since withdrawn under classified orders. Spotlights from drones occasionally swept the craters, illuminating nothing but destruction and ash.
Suddenly, a flicker disturbed the quiet.
Fwssshh—
A golden, circular portal sparked into existence, casting an ethereal glow across the now obsidian street. From it stepped a man, cloaked in an ornate monk's robe the traditional attire of Kamar-Taj sorcerers. The robe was a rich, burnt orange. His hood was up, obscuring his face in shadows, but the Sling Ring on his hand glinted under the portal's fading light as it closed behind him.
One of the nearby S.H.I.E.L.D. guards spotted the anomaly and raised his rifle.
"Freeze! Don't move!" the man barked, stepping forward.
The sorcerer stopped in place, head tilting slightly like a curious owl. His silence made the guard tense further.
"Identify yourself or I'll shoot!"
From under the hood came a low, amused chuckle. More guards rushed in four in total taking position with their weapons drawn. The air grew tense. Then the sorcerer raised his hand slowly.
A flicker of golden energy rippled from his palm as an eldritch rope of pure magical force erupted forward, latching around the speaking guard's neck. The man barely gasped before the rope pulled back violently—SNAP!—his lifeless body crumpling to the dirt.
"OPEN FIRE!"
Gunfire thundered through the night.
The sorcerer twisted to the side and conjured a spinning golden shield, absorbing the bullets with sparks of mystical deflection. With a swift motion, he twisted his body and hurled a serrated disc of eldritch energy. It whirled through the air like a chakram and cleaved one of the guards clean in half, blood spraying the broken pavement.
"Shiiiiiiit! DIE!" one of the surviving guards screamed in panic.
"You first," the sorcerer muttered.
With a swipe of his hand, a portal opened beneath the shouting guard and then closed halfway before the man could react. A gruesome tear echoed through the area as the guard was bisected at the midsection, his torso flopping to the ground with a wet thud.
"Oh f-fuck…" the man wheezed, barely alive.
The last two guards were frozen in horror. One whispered, "Holy mother, call for backup!"
The other looked at the dying man—"He killed David… he k-killed David…"
Snap.
The fourth guard collapsed instantly, his head gone vanished in a crimson mist.
The lone surviving guard's eyes widened in horror. The sorcerer turned to him slowly, then glanced at the dying David.
"Oh… my bad," he said dryly, "It would seem he's now half the man he used to be."
The terrified guard stepped back. The sorcerer raised an eyebrow.
"No? Nothing?" he said sarcastically. "Tough crowd."
The guard could barely breathe. "P-please…"
"I wasn't expecting anyone here tonight," the robed man muttered, walking casually toward him, "So you… it's just your luck, I guess. Uh, what's your name?"
"J-Jack," the man stammered, trembling.
"Well, nice to meet you, Jack." A glowing spear of energy formed in the sorcerer's hand. "And goodbye, Jack."
With a flick of his arm, the eldritch spear shot forward, impaling Jack through the chest and pinning him to a fractured slab of concrete.
The sorcerer exhaled and walked on, shaking his head.
"No sense of humor…"
Then, with a twisted smirk, he added,
"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."
---
The figure made his way silently through the devastated city until he reached a massive crater the scarred epicenter of chaos filled with obsidian glass and charred earth. This was where the boy the ancient one took interest in, Gojo Satoru or whatever his name is had fallen, his body buried deep beneath the earth, where reality itself had buckled.
The sorcerer reached into his robes and pulled out what looked like a torn page from an ancient book the parchment pulsing faintly with residual magic. He knelt and gently placed the page on the scorched ground.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the air began to shiver.
Red tendrils of energy residual Chaos Magic left behind from the clash with Wanda began to seep out of the crater, drawn to the page like iron filings to a magnet. The page began to float mid-air, vibrating softly as it drank in the corrupted remnants of power.
From deep within the ground, more red light swirled up trails of latent energy that was unleashed when Gojo violently rejected Wanda's energy grip and again when she buried him in an eruption of emotion and wrath.
The glowing currents funneled into the page as if it were a starving beast.
The robed man watched, eyes glinting beneath his hood.
"The chaos energy left by Chthon's Avatar…" he murmured, voice reverent, "It shall be more than enough to nourish the page."
The page now glowed with a deep crimson hue, casting eerie shadows across the man's face. Half of his visage his left side was ashen, discolored like dead flesh. Black veins pulsed beneath it, a curse or infection spreading slowly through him.
As the last of the light dimmed and the page settled gently into his waiting hand, he smiled.
"Soon, my lord… soon your reign shall extend to this world… and all worlds."
He looked upward, voice filled with reverence and madness.
"And all shall kneel before the will of Annihilus."
With a final glance at the crater, he opened another swirling golden portal and stepped through it, vanishing into the night.
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