The basement felt colder than before.
Morgan le Fay moved with deliberate grace, her green robes whispering along the floor as she gestured for Gwen and Charmcaster to stand on either side of the ritual circle. Candles burned blue instead of orange. Runes etched in silver chalk shimmered like moonlight on water. At the center lay a crossroads symbol, drawn with charcoal and crushed herbs—thyme, lavender, belladonna.
"The summoning of her is no small feat," Morgan said, her voice calm but commanding. "Even as a visp, her essence bends reality. Stay focused. Stay respectful."
Charmcaster rolled her shoulders, fingers twitching with latent tension. Gwen nodded, inhaled deeply, and steadied herself.
Morgan began chanting—not in Latin, Greek, or anything Nathan could recognize—but something older, something that carried weight not in sound, but in meaning. A language of intent and concept. Gwen and Charmcaster joined her, instinctively echoing the phrases, their voices harmonizing like forgotten chords.
The air thickened. The ritual circle hissed, glowing with ghostlight. Then—
A rift tore open above the crossroads symbol, jagged and luminous. Fog poured out—not gray, not white, but a deep, swallowing silver laced with violet threads. A figure began to take shape, towering and veiled in mist. Her crown shimmered like shadows in motion, her form ethereal and heavy all at once.
An ancient pressure filled the room.
Then she spoke—sharp, amused, and unmistakably powerful.
"…Wait."
The fog shifted. The figure tilted her head.
"Aren't you the one who barged into Olympus and threatened Zeus? Changed the whole structure with that Athena girl? I heard about that."
The mist dissipated in an instant.
Standing revealed was a woman at least eight feet tall, robed in midnight and barefoot atop a glowing crossroad that now cut through the basement floor like it had always been there. Her eyes shone white-hot. Her skin looked like polished moonstone. Each breath she took seemed to shift the air and tilt the world around her.
Nathan blinked. "Uh… I didn't know I did that. When did I change Olympus?"
Morgan's smile curled like a knowing cat. "So this is the ancient witch the tome warned about."
Gwen and Charmcaster weren't looking at Hecate anymore—they were staring at Nathan.
Charmcaster muttered, "You threatened Zeus?"
"Long story," Nathan said with a sigh.
"Let's focus on the Titaness before she declares me king of something."
Morgan stepped forward, bowing her head respectfully. "Lady Hecate. We summoned you for insight—about a being we've only heard whispers of. The First among Skyfathers."
Hecate's gaze sharpened. The crossroad beneath her pulsed with eerie light. "He's being mentioned again?"
Charmcaster stepped up. "A few nights ago, I went to check on my uncle—Hex. He's a magician, but something's… changed. He was reading this horrific book. It was bleeding while he read it. So were his eyes."
She hesitated. Then:
"I couldn't get much, but the only name I recovered from the energy was… Demiurge."
Morgan exhaled sharply. "You witches really do love tossing around dangerous names like confetti."
Hecate's eyes narrowed. The fog around her swirled, thickening with tension. Gwen instinctively stepped back.
"The name alone shapes the world,"
Hecate said coolly. "Do not say it again."
Gwen glanced toward the Titaness, her voice softer. "But what is he?"
Hecate's gaze drifted upward—beyond the ceiling, beyond the sky, into memory.
"He is the First among Skyfathers," she said. "The one from whom primordial divinity once flowed. Father to many who claim dominion now—Odin, Zeus, Chthon, Gaea, Oranos… They trace their lineage back to him, whether they admit it or not. He is the breath behind the myth. The first divine spark."
Her eyes flicked toward Nathan.
"He does not act. He does not interfere. Not unless one of his children is involved."
She paused. The light around her dimmed.
"And there's only one I know who could draw his gaze. One who was sealed by her twin. The one who commands the power of Lord Chaos. The darkness that devours time, order, and creation alike."
Reality groaned. The walls of the basement flexed. Dust hovered in the air like ash caught in windless space. Beneath Hecate's feet, the crossroads stretched and splintered into phantom paths—roads that led to places that shouldn't exist—before fading away again.
Even Morgan seemed unsettled.
Hecate's voice grew distant. "I wouldn't have gotten involved in this… but I owe you, mortal. For toppling Olympus's tyrant and giving wisdom its proper throne."
She turned to Nathan as the magic began to pull her form away.
"Consider this my favor. I don't give them lightly. And I never give them twice."
With that, she vanished.
The crossroad disappeared. The fog thinned. The ritual circle dimmed to embers.
The basement returned to stillness—but the silence was heavy, the kind that lingered long after thunder.
Morgan released a slow breath. "Well. That escalated."
Charmcaster shook her head. "The one sealed by her brother… What are we even supposed to do with that kind of information?"
Nathan glanced at Gwen, then closed his eyes for a moment.
"Raphael," he whispered inside.
[You're wondering the same thing I am.]
"The sealed darkness, the twin, the Lord Chaos thing—it sounds like Amara, doesn't it?"
[Highly probable. If Marvel's metaphysical lore holds, the biblical pantheon may trace back to the First as well. And the mention of Chaos complicates things.]
Nathan muttered under his breath, "I just wrapped up angel drama, and now we're opening the door to cosmic horror? Can I get a break?"
[Negative.]
He sighed. "Didn't think so."
The witches had already begun preparing.
Scrolls unfurled in glowing patterns across the basement floor. Mystic circles shimmered in layered complexity, some ancient, some newly invented. Morgan le Fay directed with practiced poise, her fingers weaving spells midair while Gwen and Charmcaster traced containment glyphs onto enchanted parchment. The room smelled of herbs, old magic, and purpose.
Nathan, meanwhile, slipped away.
One silent tap on the H-Omnitrix dial. A breath. A shift.
Where he stood, now floated the ghostly form of Deadman—a pale, spectral figure draped in red, untethered by gravity or walls.
He phased through the ceiling, through space, crossing the night air like a shadowed breeze until he reached his destination: the Sanctum Sanctorum.
He passed through the outer wall.
Still. Humming with magic. But quiet.
He hovered through the hallway and into the main hall—lined with floating relics, glowing sigils, and ancient tomes bound with living seals. The central chamber of the Sanctum was intact, alive with protective energy... but there was no Ancient One in sight.
Instead, someone else looked up from a book behind a floating desk.
Wong.
He didn't flinch at Nathan's ghostly presence. Just raised an eyebrow. "If you're trying to haunt someone, you're about two centuries too late."
Nathan materialized into full visibility, floating just above the floor. "Looking for the Ancient One. It's important."
"She's not here," Wong replied calmly, setting the book aside. "She's attending to a disturbance in the Astral Convergence Realm. Should be back in a few days—if time behaves properly."
Nathan frowned. "Of course. Multiverse problems and perfect timing. Figures."
"If it's urgent, you can leave a message,"
Wong added. "But I'd be careful with whatever brought you here. You're already trailing enough unstable mana to light up Kamar-Taj like a Christmas tree."
Nathan nodded once. "Noted."
Then, without another word, he phased through the far wall and vanished into the night wind.
No Ancient One. No backup.
Looked like it was up to them.
For once, Nathan was actually tempted to walk away.
Not because he was scared—though, yeah, the situation was very much worthy of fear—but because this whole mess felt like something that should be someone else's problem. Cosmic horror? World-ending stakes? Sealed entities from before time?
Yeah, not exactly in the contract.
He'd even rationalized it to himself: if it was Amara behind all this, then hey, maybe it wasn't the end of the world. She wasn't some raging beast. In the right context—at least from what Nathan knew—she could be reasoned with. Maybe even bargained with. She kind of acted like an ancient, terrifying socialite half the time. Sure, the power of primal chaos pulsed through her like blood, but she didn't exactly wake up looking to smash cities for fun.
So yeah, maybe they could just leave it to someone more qualified. Like the Ancient One. Or the gods. Or anyone not barely in their twenties.
When he got back, he quietly asked Gwen to step aside from the others. They found a moment alone near the basement stairwell, the flickering candlelight from the ritual chamber casting long shadows across her face.
He hesitated before speaking.
"Gwen, look… we got the information, we know what's going on—at least partially—and honestly, this whole thing feels way above our pay grade. Why not let someone else handle it?"
She didn't answer at first. She just looked at him, her expression unreadable in the dim light.
"I agree," she said finally. "It is above our pay grade. And yeah… we're not obligated to do this. No one's ordered us. No one would blame us for walking away."
Then she stepped forward, just enough for their shoulders to almost touch.
"But let me flip the question, Nathan. What happens if we don't step in? If some street-level criminal goes free, they might hurt people—we'd feel guilty, but the world would keep turning. But this?" Her voice grew firmer. "We're talking about something ancient, powerful, reality-warping. If we walk away, and things go wrong… there might not be a world left for us to come back to."
He watched her eyes, saw the fire behind them.
"We're not doing this despite the danger," she said. "We're doing this because of the danger. Because it's that big. And if everyone else is looking away… then someone's gotta be the one who doesn't."
Nathan didn't fully agree. He still thought the idea of Earth just going poof was unlikely. But he also knew Gwen—knew when her mind was set, when her heart was locked in. And there was no arguing with that.
So, he just gave a soft nod. "Alright. Let's go kick fate in the teeth."
---
The four of them—Nathan, Gwen, Charmcaster, and Morgan le Fay—gathered their materials and prepared.
Nathan didn't exactly know why Morgan was helping. Maybe curiosity. Maybe arrogance. Maybe just a bored ancient witch wanting to stretch her legs. Whatever the reason, she was here—and they were going to need every ounce of help they could get.
As the first light of dawn bled across the sky, the group teleported to the outskirts of Hex's house.
But if the place had once looked like a gothic mage's library-turned-lair… now it resembled a blighted void.
Tendrils of darkness writhed across the ground like living shadows. The very air shimmered with corrupted mana—thick, choking, and wrong. The sky above the house twisted unnaturally, as though even the dawn refused to touch this place.
Gwen lifted her hand and cast a Luminance Charm. Pure light burst from her palm, bathing the field in a gentle glow—but it barely pushed the shadows back, as if they absorbed the light like water into sand.
Nathan glanced down at his Omnitrix and considered his options. Endeavor crossed his mind—strong, versatile—but too vulnerable, too human. He needed something with raw power and resilience.
He tapped the dial.
In a flash, he was airborne—hovering above the corrupted field in the form of Homelander, his eyes burning like twin suns. He unleashed twin beams into the darkness.
Nothing. The shadows flinched but didn't burn.
Charmcaster stepped forward, chanting quickly. A complex spell released, channeling the moon's lingering rays through a silver lens of conjured mana. A lance of moonlight shot forward, elegant and sharp.
Still nothing.
It wasn't until Morgan herself raised both hands and uttered a word in a language older than form that the darkness finally parted. A shockwave of green fire and shimmering silver carved open a narrow path to the house.
Inside… was worse.
The walls pulsed like flesh beneath veils of black smoke. The furniture had melted into malformed creatures, hunched and muttering in tongues. The air tasted like metal and rot. Everywhere, mana had taken form—not energy, but entities. Living spells corrupted into shadow-beasts.
Nathan exhaled, floating behind the others. "This place… is messed up."
Morgan smiled faintly, a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes. "Now it's a party."
The house groaned around them like a dying beast.
Nathan blasted through the warped hallways as Homelander, gold cape streaking behind him. The corrupted shadows were relentless—tentacled things made of mana and malice, dragging themselves from walls and ceilings, whispering half-formed words into their ears.
Gwen and Charmcaster held the rear, casting spells in tight synchronization—Gwen's glowing mana discs struck like thunderclaps, while Charmcaster's pale lunar threads snaked through the air, slicing shadows with surgical precision.
Morgan le Fay glided ahead, cloaked in a shimmering aura of green magic. Her incantations spilled like silk from her lips, summoning thorned glyphs that spiraled into protective wards and jagged bursts of light.
But the deeper they went, the worse it became. The shadows weren't retreating—they were herding them.
Nathan skidded to a stop at the next intersection of the hallway. "We're not making a dent. This place is alive!"
He slapped the Omnitrix, spinning the dial fast.
"Time for something heavier."
[ORIAN]
A deep crimson light erupted from the watch as Nathan transformed. Metal armor covered his body, forged from the embers of war, glowing in streaks of fire-red and charred gold. When his boots hit the ground, they shook the very house.
Orian had arrived.
And with him came the Astro Force—a burning, primordial energy that wrapped around him like a living storm.
But the moment the transformation finished, Nathan's mind reeled. Rage—familiar, seething, volcanic—flared within him. His muscles tightened, his vision blurred red for an instant.
He forced himself to breathe.
Not now. Control it. You're stronger than this.
The fury of Apokolips simmered under the surface, but this time, he kept it caged.
"I've got this," he growled.
Orian surged forward, the Astro Force erupting from his fists in crackling arcs of golden-red light. Each swing tore through the corrupted creatures like molten blades. They melted under the force, screaming as their forms were erased.
Behind him, the others pressed onward, following the path of scorched ruin he left in his wake.
Finally, they reached the heart of the house.
A massive chamber opened before them, impossibly large for the building it was inside. The ceiling was gone—replaced by a churning void of swirling black clouds and stars that shouldn't exist.
And in the center… was Hex.
He floated several feet above a shattered summoning circle, his body suspended midair. Runes spiraled around him like a planetary system, all orbiting the source of their madness.
Cain knelt at his feet, limp, bound by thick tendrils of dark mana.
The Mark glowed violently on Cain's forearm—pulsing, stretching—until it began to detach, slithering like liquid fire into Hex's waiting hand.
"No—" Charmcaster whispered. "Uncle…"
A dome of black energy surrounded the ritual—a barrier so thick even light bent around it. Orian stepped forward, bracing to strike it with the Astro Force.
But even he staggered back. The barrier didn't just repel—it consumed.
Morgan's eyes narrowed. "We're too late. That seal's locking us out."
"Can we break it?" Gwen asked quickly.
"Not before it finishes," Morgan replied grimly. "Even with his strength, Orian would need time."
Inside the barrier, Hex's body began to twist. His muscles bulged and bubbled. Skin split open and reformed. Blood dripped from his third eye, mixing with arcane symbols now burning into his flesh.
Cain screamed one last time—and then collapsed into ash.
The Mark completed its transfer.
Hex's mouth split into an unholy grin.
And from behind the barrier, the air rippled. The void above them darkened further.
They couldn't stop it.
Not yet.
Nathan clenched a burning fist, the Astro Force swirling with pressure. "Then the second this drops… we hit him with everything we've got."