The Book of Darkness was a name that carried weight across every dimension, especially the darker ones. And if anyone knew how dangerous it could be, it was Dormammu, the ruler of the Dark Dimension.
After all, even he had studied the Book.
Even he had stolen power from it.
So the moment Dormammu sensed that familiar taint—that old, primal madness coursing through the dark energy he himself had created—he froze.
Because this was not ordinary dark magic.
This was Chthon's signature.
The creator of the Book of Darkness.
The originator of all black magic.
The first god to peer into chaos and call it home.
Even though Chthon had long been exiled from the main dimensions and sealed away in distant, fractured realms, his presence still echoed through time and space. His name was feared, his works forbidden. His return was a doomsday prophecy whispered even among ancient gods.
And now… Dormammu felt his presence again.
He's just dormant—not dead, Dormammu thought uneasily. And now he's paying attention… to the same mage I am?
Dormammu didn't dare make another move.
He couldn't.
Because if he did, it would mean contending with Chthon for the same soul. And no one—not even a realm-devouring entity like Dormammu—was willing to poke that bear.
Chthon's power wasn't just raw chaos.
It was the blueprint for darkness itself.
Even Dormammu, with all his arrogance and dominion over the dark dimension, knew the truth: the power he'd taken from the Book of Darkness was less than a scrap of Chthon's real power. Even Mephisto, another ancient entity who styled himself a "Hell Lord," had quietly siphoned fragments of Chthon's magic over the eons.
And they were still just insects beneath Chthon's shadow.
Dormammu gritted his teeth in frustration.
I've already had to deal with Mephisto sticking his claws into this mortal. Now Chthon wants in too?!
He was angry. More than angry—he was furious.
But he was also cautious.
He couldn't afford to recklessly reach further into Henry's soul.
And then—
Just as he was about to retreat and bide his time—again, another force appeared.
A radiant, glowing, holy force.
Dormammu paused. Wait... what is this...?
Then it hit him.
The energy was divine, shining with the brilliance of pure magic.
White magic.
Dormammu's chaotic form trembled as he identified the signature.
The Vishanti?!
He wasn't just furious anymore.
He was confused.
The Vishanti—the triad of cosmic deities revered by the Sorcerers of Earth—were also reaching out to this mage?
"????"
Dormammu was speechless.
Who the hell is this guy?!
First, he absorbed the dark power of Dormammu's dimension.
Then Mephisto tried to claim his soul.
Then Chthon became interested.
Now the Vishanti were offering blessings?
Was this mage some kind of cosmic lottery winner?!
"No, no, no," Dormammu growled. "You ancient gods have all lost your minds! Can't you just stay in your dusty dimensions and mind your own business?!"
His roars shook the Dark Dimension.
Corrupted stars exploded in the void. Entire swaths of abyssal fog evaporated into sparks.
He wasn't angry just because his energy was being stolen. That, he could forgive.
But this embarrassment?
To be forced to retreat again and again?
To lose a soul not to battle or negotiation—but because everyone else was faster to get there?
It was unbearable.
Dormammu trembled with rage.
He didn't even need that soul.
He had countless followers.
But still—this one felt different.
The fact that so many powerful entities were interested in the same soul meant only one thing:
There was something inside Henry. Some kind of potential or purity or power so grand that gods themselves wanted to stake a claim.
And Dormammu, with his endless pride, couldn't accept being left out.
Even if he couldn't act now, he seethed with determination.
One day, he thought. That soul will be mine.
Then, roaring with all the wrath of a collapsed star, Dormammu disappeared into the black ether.
…
Back in Mephisto's realm, the Hell Lord peeked from behind a crumbling infernal pillar.
He'd sensed Dormammu leave, and only then dared to whisper to himself.
"I just wanted to harvest one soul," he grumbled. "Just one... But now I've got ancient gods, chaos beasts, and glowing deities fighting over the same guy."
He sighed.
"Forget it. I'm out."
With that, Mephisto vanished into his throne room, muttering something about reevaluating his recruitment strategies.
…
Meanwhile, Henry sat quietly inside the mirror dimension, cross-legged, breathing evenly.
He had no idea that cosmic beings were having mental breakdowns over his soul.
He was just focused on his own rhythm, absorbing what power he could, and refining the energy until his soul adapted completely.
When he finally opened his eyes, they glowed with black-red light—only for a moment—before settling back into their usual state.
He clenched his fist, testing the strength.
The result shocked him.
"This power…" he murmured, eyes widening.
He felt it in every fiber of his being. Strength beyond anything he'd touched before. Compared to his progress through white magic and even the mastery of time spells, this was something else entirely.
It wasn't just growth—it was evolution.
Dark magic accelerated his strength exponentially. In half an hour, he had made more progress than he did over several weeks of meditating with the Time Stone.
No wonder even the Ancient One had dabbled in the forbidden arts.
No wonder so many had fallen to it.
"I get it now," Henry whispered. "It really does give too much."
But he wasn't greedy.
He knew the line.
There was no point in breaking his soul to grow a little faster. He'd already pushed the boundary further than most mages dared. Now, he just needed time for his spirit to stabilize before touching dark magic again.
For now, it was enough.
He stood, deactivating the mirror dimension with a flick of his fingers. The energy dissipated like fog in moonlight.
…
At exactly 6 a.m., Wong arrived.
"Supreme Mage," Wong greeted with a bow. "It's time. The mages are waiting at the training grounds."
Henry nodded, adjusting his cloak. "Let's go."
As they walked through the temple's stone archways and stepped into the cool morning of Kamar-Taj, Wong glanced at him.
"Are you settling in well? Anything missing?"
"It's good," Henry said. "If anything's lacking, I'll summon it myself."
Wong smiled knowingly. "Naturally. You are the Supreme Mage, after all."
As they strolled toward the central training ground, Wong offered another reminder. "A lot of mages have gathered today. Protectors from the temples. Practicing mages. Even those who had close ties to the Ancient One."
Henry raised a brow. "All of them?"
Wong nodded. "Everyone wants to meet the new Supreme Mage."
Henry sighed. "So I'm the main attraction now."
"Well," Wong chuckled, "you are wearing a flying red cloak and glowing like a solar flare. Expectations are… understandable."
Just as Henry was about to quip back, his expression changed.
He felt it—a fluctuation.
Something rippled through the Kamar-Taj detection field.
Someone had breached it.
Wong felt it too. "Supreme Mage—someone's broken in!"
"I know," Henry said. He closed his eyes for a moment. "They're masking their presence well, but I can sense them. They're in the training ground."
Wong blinked. "They broke into Kamar-Taj… and just walked straight into the middle of a crowd?"
"That's what worries me," Henry said. "Either they're trying to blend in—or they're confident they can handle whatever happens next."
"Should I alert the rest of the order?"
"No," Henry said. "We'll handle this ourselves."
His eyes narrowed.
"Let's go greet our unexpected guest."
___________________________________
Get membership in patreon to read more chapters
Extra chapters available in patreon
patreon.com/Dragonscribe31