There was no pain in Solomon's scorched palm. Although Oshtur's power was white magic, all magic comes with a price. For Solomon to unleash such a torrent of energy and come away with only a burnt hand was, in a way, an act of mercy on Oshtur's part. Jeanne and the other sorcerers watched Mephisto warily, while Bayonetta and the artificial human worked together to administer healing potions to Solomon. Bayonetta poured one vial into his mouth and another over his burned hand. Solomon, however, felt as though he were being treated like a helpless infant. He wanted to resist, but Bayonetta's firm embrace made it clear she wasn't taking no for an answer.
Her disapproving glare always had a way of making Solomon feel like he'd done something wrong.
The alchemical potions they used were standard equipment for any mission undertaken by the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj. Each sorcerer carried two vials: one for minor injuries, another for moderate wounds. For groups of four, a single vial of Restoration Elixir was shared. These potions were made using leftover materials from Solomon's interdimensional trade orders. His potions, known for their minimal side effects, were highly sought after, and the unwitting buyers from other dimensions were unaware of how little the ingredients cost Solomon to produce, allowing him to turn a handsome profit.
When Nick Fury spotted the potions, his eyes lit up. He'd previously confiscated a small portion of similar potions meant for Tony Stark, intending to study them. However, the results had been disappointing, and the research even required intervention from a biohazard response team. Now, with his dwindling supply of research material, Fury considered this a golden opportunity. Once this ordeal was over, he planned to have a serious conversation with the sorcerers about acquiring more. After all, he'd heard rumors that life at Kamar-Taj was less than luxurious—perhaps he could offer something in exchange.
If they survived, that is. Facing the Lord of Hell wasn't exactly the kind of encounter one walked away from easily.
The Hell Gate continued to expand, its deep crimson membrane stretching outward as countless limbs clawed and pushed from the other side. The creatures within seemed desperate to break through. Mephisto, watching this display of eagerness from his underlings, couldn't help but feel conflicted. On one hand, their fervor pleased him; on the other, something felt off. He raised an eyebrow at the cautious sorcerers, taunting them. Even here, outside the Hell dimension, they weren't truly his match.
But doubts lingered in his mind. Mephisto's forces weren't some chaotic rabble of beasts crawling aimlessly through the Hell dimension—they were genuine devils. While most were lower-ranked devils, Mephisto knew their nature all too well. The rigid hierarchy of Hell rarely inspired enthusiasm. It was discipline through fear and occasional rewards that kept them in line. Even the weakest of imps knew how to dodge responsibility, suck up to superiors, and deflect blame. Only during moments of promotion—especially those rare opportunities for upward mobility—did devils display such fervor. After all, every promotion was a brutal test of survival, a battle to prove one's cunning and resilience.
The problem was, Mephisto hadn't promised any promotions this time. He hadn't even hinted that this operation would be performance-based. Sure, a lower-ranked devil might respawn if killed, but that process took ages, required forfeiting a portion of their collected souls, and condemned them to centuries of unpaid labor upon their rebirth. Why, then, were they so eager?
Was Lucifer behind this? Cracking a whip in the shadows?
Impossible. Lucifer's true body was still confined to Hell, a restriction born from the ancient war in Heaven. At best, Lucifer could project a weak, phantom-like form outside Hell, and even that required a significant expenditure of energy. There was no way Lucifer would intervene in matters outside Hell unless it promised him freedom.
Beelzebub, then? Also unlikely. Beelzebub was Lucifer's lieutenant, and while their relationship had soured since the Fall, the two often cooperated. If Lucifer stayed put, so would Beelzebub.
As Mephisto wrestled with these thoughts, the crimson membrane of the Hell Gate finally tore open, allowing the devils to pour through. Yet, contrary to his expectations, the low-ranked devils did not appear jubilant at their entry into the material plane. Instead, their faces were marked by fear and confusion, an expression Mephisto found deeply unsettling. For devils, the chance to plunder mortal souls was a rare and golden opportunity. Even the most inexperienced imps should have been excited.
Before Mephisto could seize one of the trembling devils to demand answers, a massive surge of lightning erupted from the Hell Gate, instantly frying one of the panicked creatures.
From the gateway emerged a figure clad in a black trench coat, wearing a gas mask. Behind him followed a procession of robed figures, all wearing the humble garb of Kamar-Taj sorcerers—each equipped with a gas mask as well. Mephisto froze, stunned. The lead figure carried a long, metallic case and moved with a deliberate, unhurried pace, his boots crunching against the still-warm ash of the burned forest floor. The younger Kamar-Taj sorcerers rushed to greet the newcomers, bowing respectfully.
Then it hit Mephisto—a wave of fury unlike anything he'd felt in centuries. He realized the loophole in the contract. The Ancient One was indeed prohibited from interfering in matters related to the capture of Mephisto's avatars. However, the contract did not specify where the Sorcerer Supreme could act. Thus, it was perfectly within her rights to raid Mephisto's domain in Hell itself.
But Mephisto's hands were tied in the material plane. He could do nothing beyond self-defense, a stipulation clearly outlined in the contract.
Damn that "fair" contract!
The Ancient One! Cunning and ruthless! Mephisto cursed himself for the impatience he'd displayed during the contract negotiations. He had been so eager to block the Ancient One's direct interference that he'd skimmed over the finer points of the agreement. Normally, he would have spent days scrutinizing each clause, but back then, he'd signed it within an hour.
It must have been the Eye of Agamotto! Mephisto realized bitterly. She saw all of this coming!
This wasn't the first time he'd been outmaneuvered by the Sorcerer Supreme.
Now, Mephisto had no idea what the Ancient One's full plan was. He didn't know how many devils the Kamar-Taj elders had slain in Hell, nor whether Kamar-Taj was planning a full-scale invasion of his domain. He desperately wanted to return and assess the situation. But when Mephisto attempted to close the Hell Gate and retreat, he found, to his horror, that control of the gate had slipped from his grasp.
The Lord of Hell widened his eyes, scanning his surroundings frantically.
Merlin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The lead figure removed his gas mask, revealing his face. Nick Fury's single eye widened in astonishment.
"Johnny Blaze? No… you just look like him."
"I'm Balthazar of the Merlin School. Technically, the Ghost Rider looks like me—after all, I'm more than a thousand years older than him," Balthazar said with a smirk. He dusted off his weathered, filthy leather jacket, as though it were still the regal robe of a court mage. "An honor to meet you, Lord of Hell."
Merlin! Mephisto's eyes bulged in rage. Merlin's name alone brought back memories of torment. Though Kamar-Taj hadn't yet existed during Merlin's time, the ancient sorcerer's tricks had been far crueler than anything the current Sorcerer Supreme had ever pulled. Mephisto shuddered at the thought. Not all devils were sleepless like Lucifer. Only fools skipped rest, and Merlin's era had been one of constant, exhausting torment for Mephisto.
No! I must return! Mephisto attempted to step back toward the Hell Gate, only to realize, with mounting panic, that the portal's control had been silently wrested from him.
"Very unfortunate that my apprentice couldn't witness this," Balthazar said, glancing at Solomon's recovering hand. With a mischievous grin, he lifted the metallic case and waved it in front of Solomon.
"This is a conceptual weapon designed for dimensional warfare. It is one of the pillars that nails the multiverse to the infinite quantum sea—a weapon of divine caliber," Balthazar said, addressing Solomon directly. "The Sorcerer Supreme once wielded this. Now, it's yours. I trust you'll master it and tame it."
Balthazar then turned to Mephisto.
"The Great Eternal King has a message for you, esteemed Lord of Hell," he announced, his voice calm and deliberate. "The King says… the war has only just begun."
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