Chapter 743

"Hmph. The only thing that will endure for eternity is the ruins of your kingdom, you fool!"

Evenson sneered at Malekith’s grand declaration.

Fel flames erupted from his shoulders like volcanic fire, while the black-patterned cloak hanging from his back fluttered violently despite the absence of wind. An ominous aura surrounded him, making him look every inch the terrifying Warlock he was supposed to be.

Then he took two steps backward, turned toward the Ancient One, and pointed at Malekith.

"Sorcerer, would you mind killing him?"

The Ancient One stared at him.

For a moment, she seemed genuinely speechless. Then she rolled her eyes.

You made such a dramatic entrance that I thought you were about to fight him yourself!

Before she could say anything, Malekith’s body underwent a horrifying transformation.

His flesh melted as though exposed to unbearable heat. Within moments, his entire body collapsed into a puddle of blood.

Yet that tiny pool soon erupted like a geyser.

An enormous quantity of crimson substance surged from it, spreading outward in a torrent. It resembled liquid at one moment and a dense red mist the next, an unnatural tide threatening to engulf everything in its path.

Evenson’s expression changed.

"He sacrificed his own body to unleash more of the Aether’s power?"

A bead of cold sweat slid down his forehead.

He hadn’t expected Malekith to go this far.

Each Infinity Stone possessed immense power, but that power could only be fully realized by someone capable of bearing it. Those who weren’t worthy had to pay a price.

Sometimes, the price was everything.

Malekith was clearly unworthy of wielding the Aether without consequences. The Reality Stone was especially dangerous because its mere presence inside a host could drain their life force, even without deliberate use.

Jane Foster had experienced this firsthand. After the Aether possessed her, she hadn’t needed to do anything at all before its influence began draining her vitality. Without intervention, she wouldn’t have survived much longer.

Malekith was an immortal Dark Elf with a far greater reserve of life force than any human. That had allowed him to coexist with the Aether, at least temporarily, and wield a portion of its power.

But what he was attempting now had pushed him beyond the limits of what his body could endure.

"Great Lord who reigns supreme over the darkness! I offer everything to you!"

A bulge rose from the churning crimson tide.

Malekith’s upper body emerged from the mass, visible from the chest upward. His lower half had apparently ceased to exist.

"After enduring this brief agony, I shall receive the boundless blessings of your divine favor!"

No one paid the slightest attention to his grandiose speech.

The crimson tide was already surging toward them.

"Unholy Bulwark!"

Sif immediately transformed into her Valkyrie form and unleashed her strongest defensive ability, bracing herself against the approaching flood.

Evenson wasn’t about to stand around and watch.

The situation had reached the point where retreat might soon become impossible. If he didn’t fight for his life now, he might not have a life left to fight for.

He followed his instincts.

Fire Wall! Fire Wall! Fire Wall! Fire Wall!

Evenson thrust both hands forward.

Fel flames roared into existence, forming a blazing barrier in front of the group. The advancing crimson mass crashed against the wall, portions of it burning away beneath the infernal heat.

But the tide was relentless.

The fire wall could slow it down, not stop it. The crimson substance kept pouring forward, consuming the barrier piece by piece.

Their defenses would eventually fail.

Then the Ancient One finally moved.

She produced a small, circular tablet made of white chalkstone and hurled it toward the ground in front of them.

"A Distant City of Ideals!"

The tablet was tiny, yet an immense white wall of chalk seemed to rise from it, majestic and imposing.

The crimson tide surged against the barrier.

And stopped.

It wasn’t that the wall possessed greater physical strength than the Aether. The distance itself had changed.

The apparently short gap between the tide and the chalk-white wall had become an immeasurable expanse. No matter how fiercely the crimson substance advanced, it could never reach the barrier.

Evenson stared at the phenomenon.

The old lady has quite the collection of toys.

He’d known about the Eye of Agamotto, but apparently that wasn’t the only extraordinary artifact in her possession.

Well, no matter.

One day, all these wonderful treasures would belong to Clea anyway.

Unfortunately, their relief didn’t last long.

Cracks began appearing across the chalk-white wall, even though the Aether hadn’t physically touched it. The Mirror Dimension itself shuddered violently.

The skyscrapers that had been rotating endlessly around them came to a halt. The sky and the ground seemed ready to collapse, and the entire space trembled under the strain.

The Ancient One’s eyes widened slightly.

"The Aether... the Reality Stone."

She studied the advancing crimson mass with growing concern.

"It’s denying the reality I’ve established here. My defense relies on the truth that the Aether cannot reach it, but the Mirror Dimension is ultimately an illusion. If the Reality Stone attempts to restore reality to its original state, undoing that illusion will be far easier than maintaining it."

"Then shouldn’t you use your ultimate trump card already?"

Evenson kept pouring fel energy into his flames, preparing to reinforce their defenses the instant the chalk-white wall collapsed.

At the same time, he anxiously urged the Sorcerer Supreme to act.

The Ancient One pulled back the sleeve covering her right wrist.

Green runes glimmered beneath the fabric.

The power of the Time Stone.

She was about to manipulate the symbols when she hesitated. After a moment, she slowly pulled her sleeve back into place.

Evenson nearly lost his mind.

"What are you waiting for?!"

Now was hardly the time to worry about saving her trump card.

They were at a massive disadvantage. All she had to do was reverse time to the moment before Malekith unleashed the Aether, and then they could work together to subdue him.

Victory would be theirs.

"It’s too dangerous," the Ancient One replied reluctantly. "The flow of time is an extraordinarily dangerous force. I don’t want to use it unless absolutely necessary."

"THIS IS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY!"

Evenson shouted so loudly that even Sif glanced at him.

The Ancient One narrowed her eyes, remaining surprisingly composed.

"His current assault is powerful, but a candle burns brightest just before it goes out. Malekith has reduced himself to that grotesque state to wield the Aether on this scale, but how long can he sustain it? Once his life force is exhausted, the Aether will lose its source of energy and contract into a harmless mass. Then we’ll have won."

"You’re proposing that we stall for time?"

Evenson stared at her in disbelief.

"What happens if we can’t stall long enough? If your Mirror Dimension collapses, Malekith will be able to send the Aether into the real world. He’ll start consuming living beings and converting their life force into energy to sustain himself. At that point, he might even be able to unleash the Reality Stone’s full power!"

He pointed toward the advancing crimson tide.

"Then we won’t stand a chance!"

"Hmm."

The Ancient One furrowed her brow thoughtfully.

"I expected you to say we’d all die."

"I’m not going to die."

Evenson shrugged.

"I’ll run. I will absolutely run. Clea, stay close to me and prepare to make a tactical withdrawal."

The Ancient One rolled her eyes.

"Somehow, I’m not remotely surprised to hear you say that."

Her expression then grew serious.

"But we only need to keep him contained here. Clea, it’s time."

Evenson’s heart nearly stopped.

What?

He had to admit that Clea’s strength had increased dramatically, but expecting her to handle this situation was ridiculous.

Had she become so powerful that she was about to overthrow his position in their relationship?

Then again, his position had always been at the bottom of the hierarchy.

Perhaps nothing would change after all.

Clea raised her knight’s lance.

The weapon began spinning furiously, its movement resembling an enormous power drill.

"Thirteen Seals of Restraint, release! Let the Round Table begin its deliberation!"

Beside her, the Ancient One stood solemnly.

"In the name of Arthur Pendragon, the sole surviving Knight of the Round Table, I hereby declare..."

Her voice rang across the battlefield.

"This is a battle to defend humanity!"

The moment she finished speaking, one of the layers of unfamiliar metal encasing Clea’s lance unlocked.

Beneath it, a black storm churned inside the weapon.

Evenson had gone completely still.

The sheer amount of information packed into those few sentences had overwhelmed his ability to process it.

He’d long suspected that Celtic legends had some connection to the Ancient One. He’d even entertained the possibility that certain celebrated figures from those stories had been played by the Sorcerer Supreme herself.

But this?

He could accept that she was capable of creating a Mirror Dimension. If she suddenly produced a pair of crimson spears, he wouldn’t even be particularly surprised.

If she’d announced that she was the founder of the mystic arts, then donned a white robe and declared herself Merlin, Evenson could probably have rolled with that, too.

But the legendary King Arthur?

You’re telling me that the Ancient One is Arthur Pendragon?

Had she shaved her head to conceal her identity as the legendary Saber?

Evenson slowly turned toward Clea.

If the Ancient One was King Arthur, then the lance in Clea’s hands was...

The legendary spear that killed Arthur’s own son?

Clea, you have lived a truly extraordinary life.

Most fantasy fans could only dream of cosplaying as their favorite characters. She’d somehow managed to get her hands on the real thing.

Meanwhile, the Ancient One continued her declaration, seemingly oblivious to Evenson’s mental collapse.

"This is not a war against the Elves..."

She paused and glanced toward Malekith, who stood at the center of the crimson sea.

Then, with unshakable conviction, she continued.

"This is not a war against the Elves!"

Because that ugly bastard doesn’t qualify as one!

"Foolish apprentice, what are you doing?"

A sudden voice interrupted her.

A pitch-black doorway opened in the air, and a strange humanoid figure emerged. He wore an unusual hat and flowing robes, and his body was wrapped in bandages from head to toe.

He looked around as though he’d walked into the middle of an utterly bewildering spectacle.

Evenson studied the newcomer.

"A broker?"

He considered the figure for a moment before recognition struck.

"You’re the Two-World Walker, aren’t you?"

The newcomer turned toward him. If the violet glow visible through the gaps in his bandages counted as eyes, then he was looking directly at Evenson.

"And you’re the Warlock who doesn’t serve the Burning Legion?"

His voice carried a hint of amusement.

"I am Zahajid, the Two-World Walker. You may also call me Merlin."

He sounded positively eager to see Evenson’s reaction.

"Right."

Evenson gave him a remarkably flat look.

After everything he’d learned in the past few minutes, his capacity for surprise had apparently reached its limit.

Zahajid scratched his bandaged head in dissatisfaction.

"That’s a terrible reaction."

He turned toward the Ancient One.

"We have important business to attend to! Could you please stop playing around, Morgan le Fay?"

Evenson immediately began coughing.

So much for his newly acquired resistance to surprises.

This revelation was too much even for him.

What on earth had happened to the history of this world?

Arthur and Morgan le Fay were both the Ancient One?

Zahajid gave a satisfied chuckle.

"Now that’s a better reaction."

"I know."

The Ancient One’s expression turned icy.

She clearly disliked that particular name.

"That’s why I called an emergency meeting. If you hadn’t interrupted, we’d already be finished."

"Why are you holding a meeting?"

Zahajid looked genuinely bewildered.

Then his expression shifted to astonishment.

"Wait. You still haven’t figured it out? That entire Round Table deliberation routine was something I made up to mess with you! Just release the restraints!"

He waved his hands dismissively.

"Who at the Round Table is going to argue with you, anyway?"

The Ancient One’s face darkened.

"Now, now. Let’s talk this through. Put the sword down!"

A magnificent golden sword had appeared in her hand.

Judging by her expression, she was imagining all the creative ways she could use it to decorate Zahajid’s bandages with little cartoon pigs.

Evenson covered his face and turned away.

Thank goodness he’d learned magic from a book.

If he’d ended up with a mentor like this, he probably would have died of frustration before completing his training.

"Enough deliberating! I make the final decision!"

The Ancient One struggled to keep her voice level, but the fury beneath it was unmistakable.

"I’m the highest authority at the Round Table, and I approve the release of the restraints!"

A violent gale erupted.

The remaining restraints on Clea’s lance vanished.

For an instant, it seemed as though a colossal black dragon had coiled itself around the weapon.

Clea’s eyes gleamed.

"Storm, unmoor! Rhongomyniad!"

The Mirror Dimension shattered.

In its place appeared a colossal tower stretching toward the heavens. It was translucent, almost ethereal, yet the Aether’s violent assault could not shake it.

Clea faced Malekith with cold determination.

"Give up. This is the anchor that pins the planet in place. We are inside the Tower at the World’s End. Unless you can unleash the Aether’s full power, you won’t break through!"

She aimed the Holy Lance toward Malekith, deep within the crimson sea, and prepared to thrust.

Black winds coiled around the weapon, their furious currents radiating a power that seemed capable of tearing anything caught within them to shreds.

Malekith could feel the threat.

For the first time, he seemed to recognize just how dangerous Clea’s weapon truly was.

He immediately recalled the Aether’s extended tendrils, withdrawing every attacking stream and gathering the crimson substance in front of himself.

He was preparing to meet the coming strike head-on.

"Wait."

The Ancient One raised a hand, stopping Clea before she could attack.

"We must win with a single blow. We cannot afford to give him even a moment to recover. Let me clear the way for you first."

Clea maintained her stance and nodded.

"Then I’ll leave it to you."

The Ancient One pulled up her hood, concealing her face.

Slowly, she rose into the air.

The magnificent golden sword in her hands blazed with light, its surface covered in intricate runes.

Far away, at the military command center, General Sheffield stepped outside.

He stared at the spectacle unfolding in the distance, unable to find words.

The sudden disappearance and reappearance of the enemy had already strained the limits of his understanding. So had the enormous tower that seemed to extend toward the heavens while simultaneously existing somewhere beyond ordinary space.

But what he was witnessing now surpassed all of it.

An indistinct figure, impossible to identify as male or female, floated in the sky with a brilliant golden sword in hand.

Golden motes rose from the earth, drifting upward and gathering around the blade.

Sheffield felt an inexplicable sorrow welling up inside him.

The sword seemed to connect the past, present, and future. Every warrior who had sacrificed themselves for a noble ideal, every soul that had fought for something greater than themselves, seemed to have left a part of their spirit within that radiant weapon.

Their hearts were united through it.

Sheffield touched the corner of his eye.

He couldn’t believe it.

He was crying.

"When Britain once again faces the threat of annihilation," he whispered, "Arthur, the future king, will raise his sword and save everyone..."

Then he shuddered.

Wait. I’m a Saxon!

Can I still change sides at this point?

"EXCALIBUR!"

The Ancient One brought her sword down.

A magnificent golden beam, beautiful yet filled with sorrow, crashed into the Aether’s defensive barrier.

For a brief instant, the two forces collided in a blinding explosion.

Then the crimson defenses began to shatter, one layer after another.

The golden light tore through them, exposing Malekith at the heart of the crimson sea.

"Now!"

Clea launched herself forward.

Calling it a charge was almost misleading. The Holy Lance seemed to drag her along behind it, its power pulling her toward the exposed Dark Elf king.

"LANCE OF ANNIHILATION!"

With his defenses gone, Malekith had no time to react.

The Holy Lance pierced straight through his chest.

The enormous black storm surrounding its shaft tore at his body, but rather than shredding him apart through sheer physical force, it seemed to twist and draw him inward, absorbing him into its depths.

Malekith’s eyes widened in horror.

"No! This isn’t how my story is supposed to end!"

He struggled desperately against the weapon’s pull.

"This isn’t the ending I envisioned! I wasn’t supposed to meet my end like this!"

But his resistance achieved nothing.

The black storm continued to consume him.

At last, as he realized that all his efforts were futile, Malekith uttered words he could scarcely believe himself.

"Darkness... has devoured me..."

For a moment, his expression fell into despair.

Then, suddenly, his eyes lit up with ecstatic joy.

"Hahahaha! No! The darkness has accepted me!"

His voice rang out triumphantly as the storm swallowed more of his body.

"Great Lord! I’m coming to you!"