The moment Henry began learning how to absorb dark energy from the Book of Darkness, he didn't expect things to spiral quite so fast.
The technique was simple on paper—draw in scattered dark forces, refine them through soul resistance, and convert them into personal power. He had read through the process, mentally prepared himself, and opened the mirror dimension to practice without harming the real world.
It should have been a slow, methodical experience.
It was not.
The second he began chanting the spell, dark energy flooded into his body like a tsunami.
It came from everywhere. From different corners of the multiverse. From gaps in realms Henry didn't even recognize. In a flash, his body was drowning in energy—too much, too fast.
"Holy—! That escalated quickly," he muttered, forcing himself to break the channeling and halt the absorption before it overwhelmed him completely.
He sat down cross-legged in the mirror dimension, his soul field trembling with residual power. Henry wasn't in pain, but the rush had caught him off guard. He had activated the spell once, and now it felt like someone had turned on an interdimensional faucet full-blast.
It took a few moments of focused meditation for him to stabilize the chaos and internalize the energy.
Okay... that was insane, he thought, exhaling slowly. One touch and the whole multiverse starts sending me gift baskets of corruption?
Was it because of his soul quality? His talent? Or was this just what happened when someone with a stupidly high luck stat tried dark magic?
Once he was centered again, Henry cautiously tried the spell a second time.
This time, he limited the scope of the absorption. But even with deliberate control, streams of dark energy still flowed toward him without restraint—like magnets being pulled toward their natural polarity.
It was clear now. Henry hadn't just learned how to absorb dark energy—he'd accidentally flipped a switch across the multiverse.
He wasn't just practicing dark magic anymore.
He had become a beacon for it.
…
Meanwhile, in the Dark Dimension…
Dormammu, lord and god of that swirling void, stirred uncomfortably.
The vast storm that made up his ever-shifting body pulsed in agitation. For the second time today, he felt it:
His energy was being siphoned.
Not granted.
Siphoned.
Again.
"Seriously?!" Dormammu bellowed, his voice reverberating across the dimension. "Again?! Who the hell do these mortals think they are?!"
Normally, Dormammu didn't mind sharing power. On the contrary—he liked giving pieces of his dark essence to desperate earthlings. It was how he acquired new followers, corrupted their souls, and eventually brought them under his dominion.
But this?
This was theft.
He hadn't offered anything.
Which meant someone had mastered the technique of forcibly absorbing energy from his domain—and was doing so right now, without consent.
The signature of the siphoning was faint but distinct. It originated on Earth.
Dormammu narrowed his cosmic gaze. "Don't tell me… one of those robed weaklings?"
With the Ancient One dead, he expected Earth's defenses to crumble slowly. Yet now, one of those mortal mages had already tapped into his domain without him noticing?
Unacceptable.
"Enough is enough," Dormammu growled. "If you want my power… then give me your soul!"
With a sweep of his will, Dormammu traced the tether between his energy and its absorber. The connection was thin, like a string of shadow stretching through the layers of space.
Dormammu grasped it and followed it, seeking the source—the soul responsible for this offense.
"I'll offer you what you crave," he whispered into the void. "Power. Glory. Eternal dominion. And in return—you are mine."
His voice carried through the dark flow, attempting to reach Henry's consciousness.
But just as Dormammu began to insert his influence—another force collided with him.
A force wrapped in flame, temptation, and infernal corruption.
Mephisto.
Dormammu recoiled, startled. "What?! You?! What are you doing here?!"
…
Elsewhere—Mephisto's Domain
The Lord of Hell, Mephisto himself, lounged on his molten throne of suffering, sipping a soul-infused cocktail and reviewing a new list of candidates to torment when he felt it.
Something—or someone—was drinking from the well of hellfire.
His hellfire.
He frowned and set his glass down.
"No… no, no, no," he muttered. "You don't just stick a straw into my realm and start sipping."
He reached out with his own energy, tracing the source of the disturbance. When he saw it pointed to Earth, he raised an eyebrow.
"A mortal?" he mused. "Huh. Bold."
It wasn't just an accidental tap. This person had deliberately learned how to pull energy from his plane—just like they had with Dormammu's.
"Guess someone's been reading the Book of Darkness," Mephisto sneered.
He smirked.
This kind of soul was perfect.
Eager for power, talented in absorption, and reckless enough to touch both hell and the dark dimension? That kind of soul was ripe for exploitation.
"Time to strike a deal."
Mephisto activated his charm magic, projecting a temptation tether toward the source—Henry—hoping to draw him in with sweet whispers and illusions of grandeur.
But as soon as his influence touched Henry's tether… he felt resistance.
The sensation was familiar.
"Dormammu?!"
Mephisto's illusion shattered mid-cast.
The two dark lords stared at each other across a collapsing spiritual pathway.
"…You're here too?" Mephisto said, squinting at the flame-wreathed projection of Dormammu's head.
Dormammu glared. "This soul is mine, Hellspawn."
Mephisto held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa—relax, big guy. I didn't know you were already trying to recruit him."
"He's using my power!"
"...He's also using mine."
They fell into a tense silence.
Eventually, Mephisto sighed. "Look, let's not fight over one mortal soul. You win. I'll withdraw."
He retreated, shaking his head and muttering, "Overachieving little sorcerer… probably not worth the paperwork anyway."
Dormammu snorted smugly.
"That's right. Run, fire rat."
Now undisturbed, he turned his attention back to the absorption thread and began pouring influence into it again.
"Now then… time to—"
Thunk.
Dormammu froze.
Another force had collided with his attempt at invasion.
This one was darker.
Older.
Infused with wild madness and ancient, chaotic energy.
Dormammu's eyes narrowed.
"…No. It can't be…"
The energy signature was unmistakable.
Chthon.
The elder god of chaos.
The very being who wrote the Book of Darkness.
The author of the spell Henry was using.
Dormammu hissed. "Chthon?! What are YOU doing here?!"
...
Back in the Mirror Dimension, Henry opened one eye mid-absorption, feeling a tremor ripple through the stream of dark energy.
Three different forces had made contact through his siphoning path—Dormammu, Mephisto… and now Chthon.
He raised an eyebrow.
"…Huh. That explains the intensity."
He reached into the stream and adjusted the spell just slightly, stabilizing the influx and rebalancing the chaotic signatures.
All three powers were being filtered now—refined, neutralized, and stored neatly inside his soul without overwhelming him.
"Guess I really should be careful what I tap into," he muttered.
The Cloak of Levitation fluttered nervously behind him, as if even it was unsure whether to warn him or bow to him.
Henry simply closed his eyes and smiled.
"I'm not done yet."
___________________________________
Get membership in patreon to read more chapters
Extra chapters available in patreon
patreon.com/Dragonscribe31