In the oppressive darkness of the supernatural storm, the golden arc reactor on War Machine's chest blazed like a defiant star. Thor, whose attention had been locked on Carol's struggle, caught the flash of light from the corner of his eye. He turned to see Rhodes, a solitary beacon against the abyss.
A silent understanding passed between the gods and mortals. Thor met Max's gaze, a grim nod exchanged between them, and together they navigated the turbulent winds to flank their friend. Rhodes didn't waste words. He silently deployed the charging plates on his back, a clear signal that conventional tactics were useless. It was time for a desperate gambit.
Thor understood instantly. Divine lightning erupted from his hands, not as an attack, but as a focused stream of pure power that slammed into Rhodey's armor. The suit whined, its systems screaming as they absorbed energy far beyond their designed limits.
Rhodes felt the power surge through him, his expression grimly determined as the repulsor on his chest glowed brighter, the beam thickening with crackling divine energy. He and Captain Marvel became twin lances of light, unleashing their combined power against the churning tornado in a sustained, blinding assault.
"It's reached EF5," an analyst at S.W.O.R.D. headquarters whispered, his voice trembling with dread. "The storm cell is touching down."
Fury's face was a mask of stone as he watched the monitor, the fate of a city hanging on the contest of wills being waged in the sky. Below the battling heroes, the world had become a canvas of chaos. The elemental had absorbed every trace of nearby cloud and mist, feeding its unnatural growth.
Though the light was dim, the devastation was absolute. The super tornado's influence now raked across the town below. Buildings buckled and were torn from their foundations; cars were tossed into the air like children's toys. The screams of countless citizens were swallowed by the shriek of the wind as they were swept into the sky, their lives extinguished by the crushing force and freezing temperatures long before they could fall.
Maria Hill stood beside Fury, watching a feed from a different satellite angle. She sighed, a quiet sound of defeat in the tense command center. "The casualty reports are starting to come in."
After a heavy moment of silence, Fury spoke, his voice dangerously low. "Where is Stark? We need Mysterio's power, now!"
But on the screen, the battle had reached a horrifying equilibrium. Carol could no longer advance. She was locked in a stalemate, her cosmic power holding the storm at bay but unable to penetrate its core to strike the elemental within. The creature, in turn, could not force her back.
Hill's reply was clipped and grim. "They've just entered North American airspace. It's going to take time."
Fury closed his eye, a rare moment of helplessness washing over him. Come on, Carol, he thought, a silent prayer sent across the world.
On a quiet rooftop far from the storm, Wanda and Strange stood before the Ancient One, the truth of the situation falling upon them like a physical weight.
"Sorcerer Supreme—" Wanda began, but the Ancient One raised a hand, her gaze distant, already seeing the threads of fate.
"From this moment, Strange, that title is yours," she said, her voice calm despite the gravity of her words. "Dormammu used his power to corrupt the remaining two elementals before he was repelled. The wind elemental you face now is immensely powerful."
"What?!" Strange barely had time to process the fact that the Ancient One was alive, let alone that he was being handed the mantle of Sorcerer Supreme in the middle of a global crisis. The news was a one-two punch that left him reeling. Wong and Mordo, standing behind him, were equally stunned by the unceremonious transfer of power.
Wanda, however, cared little for titles. "What do we do?" she asked, her voice urgent.
"You must strip the dark power from the elemental," the Ancient One explained. "Dormammu has left this plane. His corrupting influence is an echo without a voice, a fire without fuel. Once you sever the source, it will wither." Her eyes met Wanda's, a deep understanding passing between them. She knew the chaotic potential Wanda wielded. "But before that," she added, turning to Strange, "you must repair the London Sanctum." Her gaze fell pointedly to the Eye of Agamotto on his chest.
Mordo stiffened, his rigid principles clashing with the desperate reality. "This is a violation of the natural law! A sorcerer's duty is to defend it, not break it!"
Wong, however, thought of the ruined New York Sanctum and the looming threat of Dormammu. He'd seen enough destruction to know when the rules had to bend. "Well," he said with a shrug, "since Strange already broke it once, what's one more time?"
"You think this is a game?" Mordo rounded on him, his voice sharp with disbelief. "That there are no consequences? You break the laws, and sooner or later, the bill comes due! This is the nature of karma! Surely you agree, Sorcerer Supreme!"
He turned to the Ancient One, seeking validation, but froze. There, on her forehead, was a faint but unmistakable purple sigil—the mark of one who draws power from the Dark Dimension.
The world crashed down around Mordo. "You…" he whispered, the blood draining from his face. "You've been drawing energy from the Dark Dimension."
"I do what is necessary to protect this world," the Ancient One said softly, her voice heavy with the burden of her choices. "Sometimes, Mordo, the rules must be bent to serve a higher ideal."
"You told us not to!" Mordo's voice trembled, the words catching in his throat. "You forbade it! But you used its power to sustain your own life for centuries!"
"Your hypocrisy is what created Kaecilius!" he accused, his voice cracking with the pain of betrayal. "Your actions drove so many to become fanatics! This is your fault!"
A flicker of pain crossed the Ancient One's eyes, but her expression remained serene. She had hoped that the new course of events would have prevented this, but Mordo's faith was as brittle as it was strong.
He looked around at Strange, Wanda, and Wong—the people who, in another timeline, had saved his life. The hypocrisy was suffocating. "We defeated Dormammu by breaking the very laws we swore to protect. What about next time? Do we just keep breaking them?" he asked, his voice filled with a hollow despair. "I will not be a part of this."
Without another word, he turned, his cape billowing behind him as he strode to the edge of the roof and vanished. He was a man whose entire belief system had been built on a lie, and now, that foundation had crumbled to dust.
The Ancient One watched him go, a deep sadness in her eyes, before turning back to the others. There were more immediate concerns. "They cannot defeat the elemental without you," she said to Wanda. "Its power has been twisted by the darkness. It needs your chaos magic to be undone."
Wanda nodded, crimson energy coalescing around her hands.
Strange stepped forward, the Eye of Agamotto glowing a vibrant green. "I'll repair the Sanctum. Wong, with me." He then met Wanda's eyes. "Be careful. Dormammu's corruption isn't like anything we've faced before."
As Wanda prepared to teleport into the heart of the storm, the rooftop was left emptier, the unity of the Masters of the Mystic Arts fractured at the very moment the world needed them most.