Marvel x Genshin: Mavuika, The Sun Goddess Rules Asgard — Chapter 210

Chapter 210: The Dark Dimension

Mavuika moved to stand beside the Sorcerer Supreme. “Tonight?”

The Ancient One’s gaze remained fixed on the tranquil courtyard of Kamar-Taj, yet her mind was clearly elsewhere. She gave a single, resolute nod. “Tonight.”

A slow, anticipatory smile touched Mavuika’s lips as she flexed her hands, a faint shimmer of golden energy crackling between her fingers. “Finally,” she murmured, her voice a low hum of power. “I can stretch my limbs a bit.”

The Ancient One turned, her expression unreadable. “Your Highness, are you not nervous?”

Mavuika’s smile widened. “Nervous? No. I am more excited than anything. It has been far too long.”

A soft sigh escaped the Ancient One. “You truly have not had a proper battle in a long time.”

“Indeed,” Mavuika agreed, a nostalgic glint in her eyes. “I feel as though rust is beginning to settle in my very bones.”

As night fully descended, its deep velvet cloak swallowing the Himalayan peaks, the time for words came to an end.

In the main courtyard, the Ancient One raised her hands. With a series of complex, practiced gestures, she wove the air itself into a shimmering gateway. A massive, sparking portal tore open the fabric of reality, its brilliant orange light cutting through the darkness.

On the other side was not the serene quiet of the monastery, but the sprawling nightscape of Hong Kong. Towering skyscrapers glittered like constellations, neon lights bled across the sky in a riot of color, and the distant hum of traffic was a constant, thrumming pulse.

Yet, the streets immediately surrounding the Sanctum were unnervingly deserted. Mordo, ever diligent, had already evacuated all residents under a clever pretext.

The Ancient One, Mavuika, Loki, Wanda, Pietro, and a hesitant Strange stepped through the portal, their sandals and boots touching down on the asphalt of Hong Kong.

The Hong Kong Sanctum was a curious sight, an anachronism nestled in the heart of the metropolis. It was an ancient, Western-style edifice, its weathered stone and classical architecture completely at odds with the glass-and-steel giants that surrounded it. Faintly glowing protective runes, etched into the outer walls, pulsed with a soft blue light against the encroaching night.

Mordo stood sentinel at the entrance. Upon seeing the Ancient One, he strode forward to meet them, his face a mask of grim urgency.

“Master,” he reported, his voice low. “Kaecilius and his Zealots have entered Hong Kong. They are approaching the Sanctum now. We expect them to arrive within ten minutes.”

The Ancient One nodded, her calm a stark contrast to Mordo’s tension. “Is the evacuation complete?”

“Yes,” Mordo confirmed. “The residents of the three surrounding streets have been moved. We caused no panic, using a minor enchantment to make them believe it was a city-wide emergency drill.”

A flicker of satisfaction crossed the Ancient One’s face. “Good. All of you are to retreat inside the Sanctum. Do not emerge without my direct command.”

Mordo’s head snapped up, his expression stunned. “Master, we can help—”

The Ancient One raised a hand, silencing him. “Mordo, this time is different. Kaecilius is not merely attacking a Sanctum; he is attempting to tear open a gateway to the Dark Dimension. That is a threat beyond what you are equipped to handle.”

Mordo’s mouth opened, a protest ready on his tongue, but the unyielding finality in his master’s eyes made him swallow his words. He bowed his head. “Yes, Master.”

He turned and, with a heavy heart, began to usher Strange and the other sorcerers back into the safety of the Sanctum. As Strange reached the threshold, he paused, looking back over his shoulder at the woman who had opened his mind to the impossible.

“Sorcerer Supreme,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain. “You… you will come back, right?”

The Ancient One’s stern features softened into a gentle, almost maternal smile. “Of course. I haven’t taught you the trick to opening portals without a Sling Ring yet.”

Strange held her gaze for a long moment, then gave a curt nod and disappeared inside.

On the empty street, only the core of their defense remained: the Ancient One, Mavuika, Loki, Wanda, and Pietro.

Loki, arms crossed over his chest, leaned against a nearby wall with an air of detached amusement. “Well, Sorcerer, what part do you wish for me to play in this little drama?”

The Ancient One considered him for a moment. “Protect the Sanctum. Do not allow any of the dark sorcerers to breach its walls. The young masters inside still need time to grow.”

Loki offered a wry, confident smirk. “Leave it to me.”

Wanda stepped closer to Mavuika, her hands glowing with faint traces of red energy. “I can help, too.”

Mavuika looked down at the young woman, her expression warm. She reached out and gently patted Wanda’s shoulder. “I know you can. Good.”

Wanda nodded, her resolve hardening.

A shift in the air drew their attention. Far down the street, where the city lights met the shadows, dark figures emerged.

Kaecilius.

He was clad in dark, tattered robes. His eye sockets were sunken, corrupted pits of pitch-black energy that seemed to drink the light around them. His entire form was shrouded in an aura of malevolent power. Behind him, a dozen Zealots followed, their own eyes similarly blackened, their steps shuffling and unnatural. They were a procession of ghouls crawling from the depths of hell, marching inexorably toward the Sanctum.

Kaecilius stopped a hundred feet away. He looked at the Ancient One, and a twisted, broken smile curled his lips.

“Master,” he rasped, his voice like grinding stone. “You came.”

The Ancient One regarded her fallen student, her eyes filled not with anger, but with a deep sense of regret and helplessness. “Kaecilius, turn back now. Dormammu is lying to you.”

The corrupted sorcerer’s smile didn’t waver. “Lying to me? He gave me power. He gave me truth. He gave me the promise of eternal life. And you? What did you ever give me but platitudes and secrets?”

The Ancient One remained silent, the accusation hanging in the air.

Kaecilius’s voice grew louder, more fervent. “You cannot stop this, Master! Dormammu will descend. This world is broken. It needs to be reshaped, and I will be the one to usher in its glorious rebirth!”

The Ancient One sighed, a sound of deep sorrow. “You have changed so much.”

Kaecilius laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “It is not I who have changed. It is you who have refused to see the truth!”

He threw his arms wide, and the black energy shrouding him erupted outwards, swirling in all directions like a corrupting tide. His Zealots mirrored the action, unleashing their own power. A black mist bled across the street, corroding everything it touched. Streetlights flickered and died, their metal instantly rusting. The paint on nearby buildings peeled away like sunburnt skin, and the very asphalt began to crack and splinter.

Through it all, the Ancient One stood her ground, unmoving.

She took one last, long look at the man Kaecilius had become, then slowly, gently, shook her head.

“You may proceed,” she said, her voice quiet but clear.

Kaecilius froze, his maniacal expression faltering. “What?”

The Ancient One offered no answer. She simply turned her back on him and began walking slowly toward the Sanctum.

Kaecilius stared at her retreating form, the smile on his face slowly melting away, replaced by a look of wild fury. Then, he began to laugh—a raw, unhinged sound filled with madness and absolute resolve.

“Fine! If you will not stop me, then I will force your hand!”

He whirled to face his followers.

“Sacrifice!” he roared.

In perfect, chilling unison, the Zealots knelt, crossing their arms over their chests. The dark energy surged from their bodies, no longer spreading but flowing in thick, viscous streams directly into Kaecilius.

His body began to swell and contort, his skin cracking under the strain to reveal glowing, lava-like patterns of black and crimson beneath.

The Ancient One stopped but did not look back.

Mavuika, who had been watching the grotesque ritual with a slight frown, stood not far away. “What is he doing?”

The Ancient One’s voice was barely a whisper. “He is sacrificing his own followers, consuming their life energy to power the ritual… to tear open the gate to the Dark Dimension.”

Mavuika’s hand tightened into a fist at her side. “And you are not going to stop him?”

The Ancient One shook her head, a gesture of grim acceptance. “I cannot. His resolve has brought him to this point. And…” She paused, her voice heavy with the weight of centuries. “If he does not open the gate this way, Dormammu will simply find another. Better to let it happen here, now, where we know the battlefield. Better to face the devil you know than one hiding in the shadows.”

Mavuika cast a sideways glance at the Sorcerer Supreme. “You are surprisingly pragmatic.”

A bitter, weary smile touched the Ancient One’s lips. “What other choice do I have?”

On the street, Kaecilius’s body had swollen to its absolute limit. With a final, agonized scream, his skin tore apart completely, revealing not a man, but a writhing, chaotic mass of pure dark energy. He threw his head back and opened his mouth, letting out an inhuman roar that echoed not in the air, but in the soul.

In response, the sky itself split open.

It was not the clouds that parted, but the very fabric of space. A massive, jagged black rift tore through the heavens directly above the Hong Kong Sanctum. The edges of the wound burned with smoldering, dark red flames, and its depths were a perfect, absolute void—a pure, suffocating darkness where nothing existed.

The Dark Dimension.

Dormammu’s domain.

A thick, black mist began to pour from the rift, a creeping miasma that was bone-chilling to the touch and carried an aura of utter hopelessness.

The Ancient One finally turned, her face upturned to the cosmic wound bleeding into her world.

“It’s here,” she whispered.

Mavuika walked to her side, her own gaze lifting to the terrifying spectacle. There was no fear in her eyes, only a calm, scrutinizing light, as if she were evaluating a new and interesting opponent.

“So, this is the Dark Dimension?”

The Ancient One nodded grimly. “Dormammu’s domain. In that place, he is the absolute ruler.”

Mavuika’s lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile. “Then we shall make that our battlefield.”