Just before the eruption of deep crimson energy, Wanda and Pietro faced Vision in a heated clash. Despite Quicksilver's staggering speed, Vision adapted with calculated precision, phasing effortlessly through Pietro's rapid assaults. Each strike met only empty air, as the intangible android moved like a specter of pure logic.
Frustration carved lines into Pietro's expression. "Stop dodging and fight me, tin man!" he shouted, his figure a blur of silver and blue as he lunged forward.
Vision's eyes glimmered faintly as he solidified, one hand sweeping out in an attempt to seize the speedster. "You lack control, Pietro," he remarked in his unnervingly calm voice, reaching for his opponent.
But Pietro vanished before Vision's grasp could close, leaving only the rush of displaced air in his wake.
On the tarmac, Wanda's concentration intensified, her hands radiating with chaotic crimson energy. The veins in her arms pulsed as the magic surged, writhing like a living flame. With a sharp motion, she thrust her palms forward.
"Stay away from him!"
The atmosphere rippled, distorting violently as tendrils of scarlet energy surged outward. Vision reacted quickly, ascending into the air, his solar-powered wings unfurling as he dodged the crackling magic. The chaotic energy lashed out, snapping through the space he had just occupied.
In response, Vision unleashed a concentrated beam of golden light from the power-jewel on his forehead, slicing through the smoky haze. The blast struck the ground near Wanda, sending shards of asphalt flying in all directions. Shielding herself with a barrier of crimson force, she stood firm, the refracted light shimmering like molten glass across her determined face.
Even through the barrier, her fury was a tangible force, burning visibly.
Vision hovered high above, the faint hum of his systems breaking the tense silence between their clashes. "Wanda," he called, his voice layered with reason but trembling underneath, "you're letting your emotions take control."
Her only response was a glare, icy and shimmering with unshed tears. "You speak of control while attacking my brother?"
The energy surrounding her surged, forming a swirling storm of red mist that throbbed with a heartbeat's rhythm. Vision's sensors flared in alarm, registering power levels spiking dangerously beyond acceptable thresholds.
"Wanda, stop—"
The mist solidified before him, shaping into a massive, translucent hand of raw chaos. It hung suspended for a fraction of a second, then lunged forward with blinding speed.
POW!
The impact resounded across the airfield, sending shockwaves rippling outward. Vision's body was hurled downward, crashing into the ground with a deafening impact that scattered debris into the air. The asphalt buckled beneath him, fissures radiating outward like veins of molten glass.
In an instant, Pietro appeared beside Wanda, panting heavily, his chest rising and falling. "He's not getting up from that one," he muttered, offering a half-smile that failed to mask the unease in his voice.
Wanda remained silent, her gaze fixed on the crater where Vision lay, damaged yet still stirring. The edges of her irises glowed with an even fiercer light, the red hue intensifying as her magic pulsed in sync with her heartbeat.
Dust spiraled around Vision's crater as he emerged slowly from the rubble, his form scarred by fractured circuitry and cracked vibranium plating. The faint glow of his Solar Gem flickered erratically as he steadied himself midair, his typically composed demeanor strained by the weight of the confrontation.
Wanda's crimson eyes flared as she advanced, her voice trembling with restrained anger. "You should have stayed out of this, Vision."
"I can't," he replied, his tone heavy with resolve. "You're putting everyone at risk—yourself included."
"Don't lecture me about danger," she hissed, her voice quaking. "Not after everything they've done to us. After everything he's done to me."
Before Vision could respond, a streak of blue and silver shot past him, Pietro, a blur of defiance and speed.
"Enough talking!" the speedster shouted, his voice cutting through the tension. He unleashed a barrage of rapid strikes on Vision, each blow resonating with near-sonic intensity. The android staggered under the relentless assault, his systems struggling to adapt to Pietro's erratic rhythm.
"You think you can get near my sister?" Pietro snarled, his words merging with the crackling air around him. "You think you can preach to us?"
Despite the chaos, Vision's expression softened, his voice tinged with almost fatherly concern. "Pietro, please—"
But his plea was lost in the storm of blows.
Pietro's final strike connected cleanly with Vision's jaw, the force reverberating through the air. The android's head snapped to the side, and for a fleeting moment, Wanda's brother allowed himself a triumphant smirk, until Vision's form shimmered, phasing effortlessly through the speedster's follow-up attack.
The counterattack was immediate.
In a single, fluid motion, precise, deliberate, and unrelenting, Vision reappeared behind Pietro. His arm swept forward in a calculated arc, striking with pinpoint accuracy against the speedster's chest. The blow was not lethal but strategically incapacitating, its force amplified by Pietro's own momentum. The resulting impact sent him spiraling backward uncontrollably, his body flung like a rag doll through the air.
He collided with the side of a transport vehicle with a deafening metallic crunch, the frame crumpling inward under the sheer velocity.
The sound brought Wanda to an abrupt halt.
"Pietro…?" she murmured, her voice barely audible beneath the distant cacophony of battle.
Her crimson eyes locked on the wreckage, the swirling dust and smoke obscuring her view.
"Pietro!" she cried out, the desperation in her voice rising sharply. She broke into a frantic sprint, her movements disjointed and wild. The chaos of the battlefield faded into the background, the clamor of Iron Man and Captain America's clash, the shouts of combatants, all drowned out by the frantic pounding of her heart.
Discovering him half-buried in the rubble, his body motionless, his faint, uneven breaths went unnoticed by her frantic mind.
Her trembling hands brushed against his cheek, feeling his cold, pale skin, a stark indication of shock. "No… no, no, no—"
Her breathing grew rapid, chaos energy flaring violently in rhythm with her racing heartbeat. "You promised you'd always outrun them," she whispered, her voice fractured with emotion. "You said nothing could ever catch you."
The crimson energy surrounding her hands spiraled out of control, distorting the air with its raw intensity.
Vision descended softly behind her, his expression heavy with regret. "Wanda… he's alive," he began gently, stepping forward. "He's just unconscious. His vitals are—"
But she didn't hear him.
Her focus was locked on her brother's lifeless form. Her chest hollowed with an unbearable ache, a silent scream clawing to escape her.
The temperature plummeted suddenly, and reality itself seemed to fracture, colors twisting and bleeding unnaturally as her magic teetered on the brink of collapse.
"Wanda, I beg you," Vision pleaded, raising his hand in a gesture of calm. "You have to control it. Listen to me—"
Her head snapped toward him, her eyes blazing with molten fury.
"NO!"
A single word shattered the battlefield with the force of a thunderclap.
And then, she unleashed her power.
An overwhelming surge of chaos magic erupted, saturating the air with a vivid, pulsating crimson. The ground split open, metal screeched in agony, and fragments of the battlefield were suspended weightlessly within the spiraling vortex of energy. The sheer magnitude of the blast sent Vision hurtling backward, his intangible form dissipating into the storm of warped reality.
The heavens themselves seemed to ignite.
At the heart of the devastation, Wanda floated above the desolation, her hair thrashing like a tempest in the chaos. Tears streaked her face, glowing with an eerie red light before vanishing into vapor mid-descent.
Silence consumed the battlefield.
Even the mightiest heroes, Iron Man, Captain America, Black Panther, Bucky, and those locked in combat beyond Earth's atmosphere, turned their attention to the epicenter, as if witnessing the dawn of an unthinkable force.
The Scarlet Witch had fully awakened.
A burst of crimson light exploded across the heavens, tearing through the sky like the birth of a star. Around the globe, the skies turned to blood, clouds spiraling in rhythmic chaos. Ley lines quaked violently, wards across the world vibrated in warning.
Within the Sanctum Sanctorum, the atmosphere shifted.
Candles snuffed out without a breeze. Ancient relics clattered within their cases. The runes embedded in the marble floor flickered and dimmed one by one.
Doctor Stephen Strange's eyes flew open. His meditative trance shattered, scattering golden sparks into the shadows.
"What in the world—" he murmured, standing as a surge of raw, unrestrained energy coursed through the Sanctum, shaking its very foundation.
He raised his hand, drawing a swift sigil in the air. The resulting spell created a floating projection, a glowing circular window that revealed the source of the chaos.
Scarlet energy stormed across an airfield, twisting metal, disintegrating matter, and shrieking through dimensions. At its heart was a figure cloaked in chaos, her power erupting like a living inferno.
Strange's expression hardened.
"Wanda."
Even from afar, he could feel it, the raw, primal magic ripping through reality, untamed and feral. This was not the product of studied sorcery; it was instinctive, elemental power so potent that it was bordering on the eldritch.
He swiped his hand across the projection, shifting to different realms: the astral plane, the ethereal, the mirror dimension. Each view showed the same result, a distorted, bleeding scarlet void. Whatever was transpiring there, it was tearing apart the barriers separating these dimensions.
The Cloak of Levitation, resting silently on its stand, stirred to life. The fabric rippled as if detecting the same disturbance and floated across the room, draping itself over Strange's shoulders without hesitation.
Strange accepted it without resistance, fastening the golden clasp at his collar with a slight nod. "I had the same thought."
He approached the pedestal holding the Eye of Agamotto, the relic faintly glowing under the dim light. As his hand closed around it, the amulet responded with a soft hum, not sentient, but acutely attuned to the surge of mystical energy. Strange opened it, revealing the gentle green glow within, channeling its power not for time manipulation but for clarity.
The glow expanded, refracting into countless invisible threads stretching out into space. He traced one, a direct connection to the source of the disturbance.
"Crimson chaos magic of this magnitude…" He exhaled slowly, tension evident in his posture. "If it disrupts the veil between realms—"
He left the thought unfinished. The implications were too grave to articulate.
With a decisive flick of his wrist, Strange conjured a towering Sling Ring portal, golden embers spiraling into existence. The runes etched along its rim glowed steadily, the hallmark of a master sorcerer.
Beyond the portal lay devastatio, a ravaged airfield scorched by crimson fire, debris suspended mid-air, and the atmosphere shimmering from the heat of rampant magic.
"Alright," he murmured, stepping through as the Cloak swirled behind him. "Let's see if we can prevent the end of the world today."
The portal snapped shut behind him, leaving the Sanctum cloaked in an uneasy silence once again.
The air above the Leipzig-Halle airfield shimmered like heat waves, distorting light into trembling ribbons of fragmented reality. A single ring of golden sparks tore through the fabric of the sky, radiating an otherworldly hum. From within, Doctor Stephen Strange emerged, his cloak flowing behind him like a living flame against the somber gray clouds.
Below, chaos reigned supreme. What had started as a tactical confrontation among heroes had spiraled into apocalyptic destruction. Segments of tarmac floated in defiance of gravity, glowing faintly red as Wanda Maximoff stood at the center, her hair fanned out by a tempest of unbridled Chaos energy. Crimson lightning arced through the air, colliding with vehicles, shattering glass, and twisting steel into molten forms.
Strange hovered above the turmoil, his expression resolute but heavy with grim determination.
"So, this is what grief becomes when it chooses to consume the world," he murmured.
The Cloak of Levitation fluttered behind him, pulling slightly toward the chaos as if urging him onward. He lifted his hands, golden sigils forming in intricate fractal layers around his wrists, ancient geometric patterns rotating like celestial mechanisms.
"By the crimson bands of Cyttorak… bind the chaos, still the flame."
The spell ignited.
Dozens of scarlet-gold tendrils erupted from his palms, intertwining in midair before hurtling downward like divine chains. They struck the ground around Wanda, forming an intricate lattice that snapped shut with a deafening crack. The Crimson Bands of Cyttorak, ancient conduits of containment, crafted to hold gods and demons alike, coiled around her, binding her arms, torso, and legs in a radiant spiral of energy.
For a moment, the world held its breath.
The bands' glow cast an eerie light on her trembling figure, her wide eyes glistening, her parted lips quivering, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. Strange descended slowly, his boots crunching against the fractured asphalt as he extended a cautious hand toward her.
"Wanda," he murmured, his voice calm but edged with urgency, "you need to let go. This path will only lead to—"
Her scream tore through the air like a razor-sharp blade.
A surge of crimson energy erupted outward, raw, violent, and almost alive in its wrath. The golden bands hissed, their light faltering as intricate runes began to fracture, cracks spreading like spiderwebs across their surface.
Strange's expression shifted, his eyes widening in shock.
"Impossible—"
Before he could react, she broke free.
The explosion was devastating. Rings of chaos energy rippled outward, red lightning splitting the heavens in a deafening cacophony. Strange's shields shimmered under the onslaught, barely holding before he was hurled backward, smashing through a midair transport crate. The Cloak of Levitation spiraled chaotically, catching him just before he hit the ground. As he steadied himself, his gaze lifted to see her, suspended above the smoking crater she had created, her form wreathed in unrestrained power.
Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, hovered in the air, a tear in the fabric of reality given form. Her irises burned with molten red light, and veins of energy traced beneath her skin like fractures in fragile porcelain. The atmosphere rippled around her, bending and warping as though reality itself was being unraveled.
When she spoke, her voice carried an eerie duality, one tone human, the other ancient and guttural, reverberating with raw power.
"You dare to bind me with your magic, sorcerer?"
Chaos gathered in her hands, swirling spheres of volatile plasma radiating destructive force. The energy pulsated, dangerous and barely contained.
Doctor Strange steadied himself midair, golden energy sigils flaring to life in his hands with precision and resolve.
"Not to bind," he answered gravely, "but to protect, you, and everyone else."
For a fleeting moment, time seemed to hold its breath. Scarlet light clashed with golden brilliance, their opposing forces painting the air with dazzling contrast.
Then they moved.
Two forces, chaos and order, grief and resolve, collided in a maelstrom of destruction, their clash reverberating through the airfield, shaking its very foundation to the core.