New York Sanctum
The grand hall of the Sanctum Sanctorum lay in stillness—until reality itself split open.
A jagged crack in space tore through the air, shimmering like broken glass.
From the rift leapt Sun Wukong—Daniel in the form of the Great Sage Equal to Heaven—his golden fur catching the light as the tear in reality sealed shut behind him.
He landed lightly, eyes scanning the ornate chamber with an unimpressed smirk. Then, with a deep inhale, his chest swelled like a bellows.
The roar came first—a guttural, primal howl that rolled into a piercing sonic wave. The very air trembled as invisible force slammed outward. Sigils shattered mid-glow, wards fizzled into smoke, and the proud walls of the Sanctum burst outward in a storm of splintered wood and stone.
The Sorcerer Supreme's defenses—ancient and layered—were gone in an instant.
Outside, New York screamed. Cars skidded to a halt, windows blew inward, and terrified pedestrians scattered. Some were pinned beneath rubble. Wukong's golden eyes flicked over them without a shred of concern.
"Not my circus," he muttered.
Tilting his head to the sky, he barked a command:
"Come forth—Flying Nimbus!"
From the clouds, a golden streak dove toward him, stopping just before his feet. The monkey grinned and hopped onto the familiar cloud, rising above the ruined street.
That's when a ring of sparks flared to life beside him.
A portal snapped open, and from it stepped the Sorcerer Supreme herself—hood shadowing her sharp gaze, one hand already extended.
A glowing sigil formed mid-air. From it erupted chains of molten gold, each link radiating eldritch heat.
"Chains of Cronos."
They shot toward him like hunting serpents—but Wukong was already gone, flipping lazily through the air to land on the street. The chains struck nothing but cloud vapor.
"Oi, witch," he said, swinging his staff idly over his shoulders. "You're starting to get on my nerves."
He stalked forward with a relaxed gait, voice dripping with mockery.
"You really that eager to die?"
His grip on the Ruyi Jingu Bang tightened, fingers coiling around the familiar iron like it was part of his own body. His stance lowered—ready to spring.
Then—steel met steel.
The real Ancient One came from above, twin fans of shimmering energy crashing against his staff. The impact cracked the pavement beneath their feet, arcs of golden light and raw kinetic force spiraling outward.
"Clones, huh?" Wukong grinned, teeth sharp. "Let me show you how it's done."
With his staff still locked against her blades, he plucked several hairs from his head and blew. The strands caught the wind—then twisted, expanded, and became more Wukongs, each exuding the aura of a seasoned warrior.
The Ancient One's eyes narrowed. "Perfect…? These aren't illusions—"
Her words were cut short by a sudden blur. The real Wukong's staff struck her clean across the jaw, sending her hurtling into the side of a building, masonry exploding outward.
He shook his head, sighing.
"Rule six: never take your eyes off the enemy. Or you're dead."
His chuckle turned into a series of sharp, wild monkey laughs that echoed off the ruined walls.
But before the sound faded, another portal snapped open behind him.
A beam of raw, chaotic mana roared forth. Wukong's instincts flared—he twisted aside, the blast grazing his fur and burning away a few golden strands before tearing through the city beyond, carving a smoking path of destruction.
"Not bad, witch," he said, eyes glinting. "Didn't think you had that kind of bite. Might actually have to take you seriously now."
From the wreckage emerged the Ancient One, robes torn, dust clinging to her form. Thin cuts lined her face, and her eyes burned with a wrath she rarely allowed herself to feel.
"Careful," he called out, pointing lazily at her. "You keep getting red like that, people'll think you're turning into a tomato."
Her glare could have shattered mountains.
"I'll erase you, monkey!" she snapped—mana surging, a black sigil flaring on her brow as tendrils of dark magic coiled around her.
Wukong raised a brow. "Ooh. Tapping into the Dark Dimension, are we? Risky move." His grin widened. "Also—still racist."
Her answer was an attack. Mana blades spun into orbit around her like planets, while portals bloomed in the air, spewing beams of lethal light and slashes of pure arcane energy.
The Monkey King's eyes began to glow like molten gold. He planted his staff, body loose yet coiled with power. His voice came low, calm, and certain:
"Come."
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To be continued....