I let out a frustrated sigh. "You're an even bigger asshole than I thought you'd be."
Angel Ascension. I was tired of this bullshit. It was time to end things. Time and dimensional energy erupted out of me, vast green and teal clouds that wrapped tight around my body as they compressed. The activation tore me out of the mental space we'd inhabited and flooded every vein with power.
Time dragged. Space buckled like stretched taffy. My eyes lifted to Vergil—now a storm of energy—and he met my shift with one of his own.
A new energy burst from him, violent and brilliant, the deepest cosmic blue I'd ever seen. It raced through his body and rewrote it in an instant. Wings tore free from his back, curved horns jutted from his skull, his skin hardened and darkened, his mouth stretched into a massive serrated maw, claws extended from each finger, and trails of blue-white flames bled from the backs of his hands.
His entire existence shifted. It felt like standing in front of a completely different being—an aura-drenched mountain of flesh and malice I could never hope to overcome in a straight fight.
So, I changed the game.
I summoned the Time Stone and wrapped my bare hand around it.
Vergil eyes widened. He moved instantly—teleporting Yamato and himself into my sternum. Half of my chest vanished, and I gasped, struck by worst pain of my life, but I still forced technique.
TIME STOP.
I twisted his wrist with a touch of Telekinesis, extracting Yamato from his hand, and funneled every drop of power I had running through me into carving a scar in space and time. I ripped open a portal to the worst place I could envision in creation, in the entire multiverse even.
Warhammer 40K. It was a hell even Vergil would struggle to escape.
I shoved him through with the strongest telekinetic blast I'd ever produced, sealed the tear, and looked down at Yamato in my grip as Angel Ascension and my new healing skill mended the wound rapidly.
I coughed up blood.
A thought struck me—I could actually do it. Right now. Permanently rid myself of Shin. The problem was that I had no idea how to use Yamato properly, nor did I think it was the smartest move. The Soul Stone was still in play, and I had no clue what would actually happen if I tried to cut the Shin-fragment away from my soul.
Mordo or Jean would need to look ahead for me.
For now, I put out all of the Anathema Flame on the surface of Mercury and hurried back to Limbo to finish the job.
I teleported across the planet, putting hundreds of mutants to sleep and transporting them to my personal dimension. I stayed in Angel Ascension, blinking in and out faster than most minds could register. The entire operation was over before anyone could mount a response—Lauren included—and I left the planet just as the first bombs went off. Millions of souls washed over me as I entered into my realm.
I stumbled forward, utterly drained, Ascension fading, and found Jean waiting—surrounded by dozens of unconscious mutants neatly stacked in organized piles.
For once, she looked genuinely pissed. "Dante, what the hell?"
"Uh… I can explain."
For ten minutes, I did. The bombs, the predictions, the fight with Vergil, Lauren, the rescue—everything.
"You've been busy," she said, waving my note. "Certainly explains this."
I rubbed the back of my head with a sheepish grin. "Sorry. Wish I'd had time to give you more."
"So what do you plan to do with all of them?"
"Uh… send them back to their home countries?" I said, then pinched the bridge of my nose. "I'm going to have to talk to Fury, aren't I?"
"Or skip him entirely and go straight to the press."
"Some lawyers would probably be smart," I muttered. Amazing I hadn't thought of that earlier.
"Definitely," she said. "Though we'd probably have to wipe memories after every session."
"That's unnecessary," I countered. "I can make rings that handle that."
"Gotta use all that new rune knowledge somehow."
I rubbed my chin. "I should probably assign a Widow to this. That's why they get paid the big bucks. You know where Yelena is?"
"You've got a super mind," Jean said, turning away. "Figure it out."
She drifted off. She was still annoyed—but also unmistakably excited. I'd likely doubled Earth's mutant population in a day.
And that was the rub, wasn't it?
Scott and the others would be thrilled, but mutants in the wild couldn't really be policed. I could control them here, warn and discipline them if needed. But out there? Even a beta-level mutant could demolish a bigot, and they'd technically be justified. Not that it would help the cause.
These refugees were martial, socially maladjusted, and conditioned to solve conflict with violence. That wouldn't blend well with the political climate—especially after my latest stunt. And since I saved them, their eventual screw-ups would inevitably fall on me.
Spread across the world…
It was going to be a shitstorm, one I wasn't sure even I could survive.
And that wasn't even covering the imminent dick-measuring contest between SHIELD, the UN, and every nation desperate to militarize their new mutants.
If I wanted any control over how this unfolded, I'd have to put my thumb on the global scale—and I wasn't sure I was ready. Not yet. Not without eliminating my real enemies first.
For now, they had to stay comatose. It was safer for them and me, at least until I figured something out.
Still needed a competent lawyer though.
Once that was sorted, I'd head back out and finish business. I had Ascendants left to kill.
But first—my nose caught a whiff of barbecue. I popped to the back of the house. The steaks I'd bought a few hours were still being cooked. The rune-reinforced refrigeration unit I crafted holding up beautifully.
Fury POV
I stared half-lidded at Thor as he shamelessly flirted with Captain Marvel—shockingly, successfully. Lady Sif, his Asgardian girlfriend, did not share my amusement. She stood nearby in full armor, sword and shield ready, and looked one disapproving blink away from cutting him in half.
"The things you get away with when you're good-looking," I muttered. Maria heard me. Her lips twitched in a small smile.
"Feeling your age, sir?"
"No more than he is."
"Doesn't quite compare," a smooth voice chimed in behind me. Loki. God of Mischief. "He has another five to ten millennia depending on diet. You, however, are in your twilight years."
"And with age comes wisdom," I fired back. "You didn't come here for small talk."
I gestured toward the Warriors Three—Volstagg, Hogun, and Fandral—who were swapping war stories. They were outmatched in raw spectacle, though I did catch Volstagg boasting about fighting a dragon. And at this point? I couldn't even say he was lying. Gods existed. Why not dragons?
"I didn't cross millions of light-years for pleasantries," Loki said. "We came because the All-Father asked it of us. You have an ongoing demon war. A war the boy insists on fighting alone."
I narrowed my eye. I knew bait when I heard it. "Dante?"
"He commands an army that puts yours to shame," Loki said lightly. "Wears enchantments that have him worshipped as a god in distant corners of the galaxy. Holds mastery over Space and Time. Why wouldn't he believe he can fight demons alone? After all—you've let him."
My eye snapped toward him. "What's your angle, Mischief God?"
Loki shrugged. "Only suggesting that since you have her"—his gaze flicked to Carol—"you could at least extract answers from him."
Maria and I shared a look. This motherfucker wasn't seriously implying—
An alarm shrieked on my smartwatch. Maria's tablet lit up simultaneously.
Mercury.
Satellites showed someone tearing it apart.