"..."
'System, is he really gone?'
It wasn't until Lucifer had completely vanished that Luke finally moved.
First thing he did was ask the system in his mind.
Was that guy truly gone?
[No demonic presence detected. Lucifer has left this realm.]
Luke let out a long breath of relief. Then, the questions hit him all at once.
"System!"
"Why the hell did I summon that Lucifer?! The one from the DC Universe?!"
That's right.
What Luke had just summoned was none other than Lucifer Morningstar from DC—arguably the second most powerful being in that universe.
In Marvel terms?
He was up there with the likes of the Living Tribunal or maybe even below the One Above All.
[Host did not specify which version of Lucifer to summon. System defaulted to random multiversal pull.]
The system's message was brutally simple.
There were too many Lucifers across too many worlds.
Since Luke hadn't specified which one, the system had picked one at random.
"...How the fuck was I supposed to know you could pull demons from other universes?!"
Luke was pissed.
He thought his summoning was bound to the Marvel world.
He never imagined that shouting a name would drag over someone from a totally different multiverse.
"System... You are insane."
Good thing Lucifer was chill. If he'd been in a bad mood, Luke might've been erased from existence.
"You've got powers like this and didn't think to give me a heads-up?!"
[The host did not ask.]
"..."
"Don't get mad. Just breathe. No one's here to babysit you if you lose it."
Luke patted his chest and tried to calm down.
Sure, things had gone way off script, but... the result wasn't bad.
"The power of the Morningstar... something that can bring the dead back to life and have now technically made me an immortal."
He opened his palm. A thin strand of golden energy shimmered across it like a glowing thread.
It radiated a strange warmth—soft but powerful, pulsing with vitality.
According to Lucifer, this power would stay inside his body indefinitely unless used.
As long as he kept it, he'd be immortal.
But if he chose to burn it, he could bring someone back from the dead.
"He really is a top-tier boss from another universe... definitely doesn't hold back."
Luke smiled, letting the golden energy flow back into his chest.
This thing was priceless.
He could save a life—or keep his own.
It was like having a cosmic-level insurance policy.
...
After that unexpected encounter, Luke had zero interest in summoning anyone else for the time being.
He couldn't risk it.
Who knew what other dangerous personalities he might accidentally pull in next?
Honestly, this system was as unpredictable as it was powerful.
Whether it was exorcising or summoning—it followed its own rules.
"Looks like next time I summon someone... I'll need to write down their full name, dimension ID, and multiversal address."
Shaking his head, Luke stepped out of the mirror space.
"Meow meow meow!"
A fluffy white ragdoll cat with silky fur bolted toward him the second he emerged, letting out a series of impatient meows.
"Huh?"
Luke froze.
He didn't remember there being cats at the Sanctum Sanctorum in New York.
"Felicia?"
"Meow meow!"
"It really is you! Hahahaha! Didn't I tell you not to mess with any of the stuff in there?"
The ragdoll cat nodded like a guilty child.
Luke couldn't help but burst out laughing.
After catching his breath, he scooped her up.
"Meow meow meow meow!"
Felicia squirmed like crazy, trying to escape his arms—but Luke held on tight, grinning.
"Oops, why do you look way better like this than before?"
"You know what? Maybe you should just stay this way. Being a cat sounds pretty chill. I'll even feed you catnip every day."
Luke smirked as he teased the fluffy white Ragdoll cat in his arms.
The cat's eyes filled with tears, and its soft body trembled.
Clearly, it was traumatized by Luke's so-called kindness.
"Alright, alright. I'll stop messing with you," Luke said, chuckling. "I'll figure out how to fix this..."
Before he could finish that sentence, the core of the Sanctum Sanctorum—an orb-like device hovering midair—suddenly lit up with a bright pulse.
A strange wave of familiar energy rippled out from it.
"Shadow Demon?" Luke's expression turned sharp.
He gently set Felicia down and turned toward the glowing orb.
Several beams of light shot out, marking points all over the globe—one nearby in New York, others as far as Europe and across the world.
"No way… are people really summoning Shadow Demons in all these places? At the same time?"
Luke's brows furrowed.
He recognized the signature—this was the same dark energy he used when summoning Shaco himself.
But now it was happening everywhere.
"Guess I better go check it out."
He raised a hand, and a ring of shadow energy circled under his feet.
With a pulse of power, he vanished into the darkness.
"Meow?"
Felicia, still in her fluffy Ragdoll cat form, blinked up at the empty space where Luke stood.
"Meow meow meow?!"
Her expression said it all—Really, bro? You're just gonna leave me like this?
—
Somewhere between New York and Washington D.C., Nick Fury's black SUV thundered down a narrow road, tires screeching.
Behind him, a swarm of police cruisers gave chase, bullets pinging off his bulletproof vehicle. Overhead, a chopper laid down suppressive fire.
"Vehicle hull integrity: 70%... 60%... 50%..."
The onboard AI's voice droned out status reports like a countdown to disaster.
Fury grit his teeth. "Engage flight mode!"
"Flight mode malfunction."
"Activate countermeasures!"
"Weapons system damaged."
"Then autopilot, now!"
"Autopilot system failure."
Fury's face darkened. "Then connect me to Agent Hill. And don't even tell me the comms are fried too."
Finally, a bit of luck—this time, the AI responded positively, and the feed connected.
"Director? What the hell is going on?! We lost contact with HQ!" Maria Hill's confused voice cut through.
"Hill, listen to me carefully! Get everyone off the Helicarrier—SHIELD's been compromised. Hydra is inside. Alexander Pierce is the traitor! They're trying to take over everything. I barely made it out!"
"What? Say that again—I can't hear you clearly! We're under attack by unknown forces! There's a firefight on the bridge, we're—!"
Gunfire erupted in the background on her end.
"Hill!? Hill, respond!" Fury yelled.
But all he heard was more gunshots. His blood ran cold.
"Damn it!"
He slammed the comms shut and looked up—only to find someone blocking the road ahead.
It was Alexander Pierce.
—
Alexander Pierce.
The former director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
He wasn't just a colleague to Nick Fury—he was his mentor, a trusted friend, someone who once shaped the path of S.H.I.E.L.D. itself.
If it weren't for Pierce pulling strings behind the curtain, Fury may never have made it to the top.
Now, in his sixties and supposed to be enjoying retirement, Pierce stood in the middle of the road, arms wide open like he was greeting an old friend.
Buzz—!
Nick Fury slammed his foot on the gas.
No hesitation. He pushed the accelerator to the floor, eyes locked ahead.
The man in his path? A traitor.
Pierce wasn't just an ex-director.
He was Hydra—a high-ranking member—and Fury had just stumbled upon their newest plan: harnessing the power of an ancient evil god through human sacrifice.
"I'm sorry, Fury," Pierce said calmly, voice echoing through the noise. "You could've witnessed a better world. A world under Hydra's rule. No chaos, no war. Just order."
Even as the vehicle barreled toward him, Pierce didn't flinch.
In fact, he stepped forward, calmly, like he was walking into history.
Then he raised one hand.
All at once, shadows around the area surged inward—sliding like liquid, twisting through the cracks of reality.
They merged together and formed a long, dark spear in Pierce's grasp.
"Fury," he said with a smirk, "you have no idea what kind of power we've unlocked."
He hurled the spear.
The dark weapon sliced through the air and struck Fury's armored vehicle dead-on.
It didn't bounce off or shatter—it pierced.
Straight through the windshield, cutting down into the chassis and pinning the car to the asphalt.
BOOM!
The vehicle screeched to a stop. Fury's head slammed against the dashboard. Dazed, nearly unconscious.
Screeeak—
Pierce approached. Calm. Unhurried.
He ripped the driver's side door off its hinges like it was paper.
He reached in, grabbed Fury by the jacket, and dragged him out before tossing him onto the cold ground.
"Look at me, Fury. This is the power the Shadow God has given us."
He spread his arms, laughing—a manic, unhinged sound, like a man who'd waited years to let go.
Then he leaned down, eyes sharp.
"Hydra's rise is inevitable. Come with me, Fury. You don't have to fight it."
Fury coughed, blood on his lip, vision blurry—but his mind was still sharp.
"So what's the cost, Pierce? That power you're bragging about—what did it cost?"
"Cost?" Pierce scoffed. "Just a little blood. One life. Nothing worth crying over."
Fury spit on the ground.
"There's no such thing as free power. And you know it."
But Pierce wasn't listening.
He was already summoning another shadow spear, darker and larger than the last.
"You'll be remembered, Fury. Your funeral will be grand."
The spear was raised—just about to fall—
BOOM!
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