Chapter 820

Gildres had apparently been short a few screws for so long that it had finally affected his eyesight. How else could he possibly have looked at the Ancient One and decided she was the reincarnation of Joan of Arc?

"Joan of Arc was technically a nun, but she wasn’t exactly a Buddhist nun. And with that hair of yours giving you a bonus to critical hit chance, I have no idea how he managed to see the resemblance."

The Ancient One’s expression twitched.

Evenson’s mouth was practically dripping with honey.

For a moment, she was so pleased with herself that she almost abandoned the plan she’d been considering and stayed behind just to shove a few more curry-flavored energy bars down Evenson’s throat.

She took a slow breath and forced herself to calm down.

"The New York Sanctum has been destroyed. What’s even harder to accept is that all of this happened right under your nose."

Her gaze sharpened.

"Why did you and Clea allow Kaecilius to do this?"

The original defenses of the London Sanctum might not have been enough to stop Kaecilius. But Evenson and Clea were both here. If Kaecilius had still been allowed to succeed, then the only explanation was that they had deliberately stood aside.

"Don’t you understand how serious the consequences are?"

The Ancient One’s eyes narrowed.

"Or do you have another plan?"

"There’s really nothing to worry about."

Evenson smiled as though they were discussing the weather.

"While we’ve been talking, the New York Sanctum has already become more or less unnecessary."

"Oh?"

The Ancient One frowned.

Something had changed.

She raised her eyes and swept her gaze around the chamber.

"The magical energy supply is dropping rapidly..."

Her gaze lowered to the floor.

"And the ley lines feeding this node have been forcibly redirected."

She paused, following the altered flow of magic.

"I see."

Her expression changed.

"So those two women have made their move."

Deep beneath the Gospel Company, in a chamber known as the Final Doctrine, the Eredar twins stood on opposite sides of a metal disc.

Alythess and Sacrolash poured magic into it simultaneously.

Flames flowed from one side.

Shadow poured from the other.

"Magical output node transfer complete."

"Magical circuit analysis complete."

"Constant barrier spell replication successful."

"Planetary defense system computational core construction complete."

The metal disc hummed with power.

Alythess finally stopped casting and returned to her human form.

"That should do it."

She looked at the device.

"Now all that’s left is activating it. When are we supposed to turn it on?"

"The boy already told us."

Sacrolash also returned to her human form.

"When he gives us the signal. Or when we decide there’s sufficient reason to activate it ourselves."

She looked at the device with a faintly puzzled expression.

"Still, I never expected him to ask us for something like this. It feels strange."

Back when Gospel Company had first been established, the Eredar twins had already set their sights on the magical power feeding the New York Sanctum.

At first, they had only intended to siphon off a little.

Basically, they wanted free Wi-Fi.

Unfortunately for the Sanctum, their magical systems were a little too advanced.

Instead of connecting to the Sanctum’s magical network, they had effectively ripped out the entire router.

The New York Sanctum had gone from provider to customer.

And the connection was terrible.

The sorcerers had eventually become so desperate to conserve power that they couldn’t even afford to keep their magical air conditioning running.

The Ancient One had finally intervened.

She’d told the twins that sharing the magical node was acceptable.

Taking the entire thing for themselves was not.

So they had reached a compromise.

The node’s output would be split evenly between Kamar-Taj and Gospel Company.

Now that the twins had a way to redirect the node’s power themselves, reclaiming the portion they’d previously returned was trivial.

The strange part was why Evenson had asked them to do it.

He wanted revenge because someone had stabbed Clea.

It was, frankly, a bizarre situation.

It was like some gangster’s kept mistress getting stabbed and then shamelessly going to his wife—the actual head of the criminal empire—and asking her to avenge her.

Most people would probably find that arrangement slightly awkward.

"Forget it."

Alythess shook her head.

"Our pet was bullied. Naturally, he came running to his owners for help."

She smiled.

"If he hadn’t asked us, I’d have started wondering whether he was becoming too independent."

"And besides, this benefits us."

"Exactly."

Sacrolash nodded.

"Now that we have the core, we can legitimately claim the entire magical node for ourselves."

Her smile became increasingly pleased.

"When we’re feeling generous, we can throw a few scraps to the sorcerers. When we’re not, they get nothing. Even the Ancient One won’t have much room to complain."

She waved a hand.

The still-glowing metal disc floated upward and settled against the ceiling.

Sacrolash examined it.

"Hmm. We should probably find some kind of lampshade for it. It would make a perfectly good ceiling light."

Alythess pinched the bridge of her nose.

Her sister had definitely been spending too much time around Evenson.

Then her expression suddenly changed.

She turned toward the entrance.

"Who’s there? Come out!"

Flames immediately ignited above Alythess’s palms.

Sacrolash’s hands slipped behind her back, drawing two short blades.

At the same time, a shadowy duplicate of Sacrolash darted toward the doorway and pressed itself against the wall.

A small figure finally stepped into view.

The twins immediately relaxed.

Their weapons vanished, their battle stances disappeared, and both women replaced their fierce expressions with warm, motherly smiles.

"Angelica?"

"What are you doing here, sweetheart?"

The little girl standing in the doorway was the twins’ adopted daughter.

She had just finished her homework and had come looking for her two godmothers to negotiate an extension to her vacation allowance.

That plan had been forgotten the moment she’d seen what they were doing.

"Godmother..."

Angelica timidly entered the room, her small hands twisting nervously in the fabric of her dress.

"You... you can use magic, right?"

Her eyes were wide.

"What you just did... that was magic, wasn’t it?"

The twins exchanged a glance.

There was no point denying it.

The girl had seen everything.

"Of course."

Alythess cleared her throat.

"We’re... mages."

There was no reasonable way to explain this.

What were they supposed to say?

Actually, that wasn’t magic. It was ninjutsu. That fireball was Dragon Flame Jutsu, and your second godmother was using a Shadow Clone?

"Really?!"

Angelica’s eyes lit up.

She rushed forward and threw herself into the twins’ arms.

"Can you teach me?"

Her face practically glowed.

"I want to become a magical girl!"

The twins’ smiles froze.

"Uh..."

Alythess and Sacrolash exchanged another look.

"We’ll talk about that later."

Elsewhere, the Ancient One stared toward the Gospel Company’s headquarters with a complicated expression.

"From today onward, that is the true New York Sanctum."

Evenson smiled.

"That’s not necessarily a bad thing."

He folded his arms.

"Responsibility belongs on the shoulders of those strong enough to bear it. That’s only natural."

He glanced toward the distant building.

"If we’d established the system this way from the beginning—two defensive cores instead of three, with you personally guarding the main headquarters and the Eredar twins stationed in New York—then Kaecilius could have caused as much trouble as he wanted. None of this would have happened."

"Perhaps."

The Ancient One nodded.

But her thoughts were elsewhere.

As long as even one of the three Sanctums remained operational, Dormammu couldn’t enter the physical world.

Now that the Eredar twins had restored New York’s defensive core, she could finally relax.

Then she looked toward Evenson.

"Strange appears to be having some trouble."

She paused.

"Could you go help him?"

"I’ll take a look."

Evenson nodded and left.

He didn’t notice what was happening beyond the window.

From here, the city appeared almost completely normal.

But farther away, reality had already come apart.

Streets twisted through themselves.

Skyscrapers rotated like enormous gears.

Buildings overlapped like badly stacked blocks, their structures folding into one another at impossible angles.

And somewhere inside that distorted space, Kaecilius—whom Evenson believed had already escaped—was running for his life.

Every time Kaecilius tried to open a portal, the portal itself was dragged into the sky.

Or shifted somewhere else entirely.

No matter what he did, he couldn’t leave.

"Damn hypocrite!"

Kaecilius finally understood.

He was trapped inside the Ancient One’s Mirror Dimension.

It was like being a monkey trapped in the palm of a Buddha.

He could twist, jump, teleport, or tear reality apart all he wanted.

He wasn’t getting out.

Strange really was in trouble.

One of Kaecilius’s followers had finally broken free from Mordo and happened to run directly into him.

The cultist immediately attacked.

Strange dodged and retreated, but the battle was taking place inside a narrow corridor. There was barely enough room to maneuver.

One mistake was all it took.

An invisible blade punched through Strange’s chest.

He collapsed, badly wounded.

The sorcerer stepped forward to finish him.

Then the Cloak of Levitation decided it had seen enough.

The red cloak launched itself from Strange’s shoulders and wrapped around the sorcerer’s head.

Then it slammed him against the floor.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

And again.

Strange, meanwhile, used what little strength he had left to open a portal.

On the other side was the hospital where he’d once worked.

He crawled through.

He was going back to his old girlfriend.

Connections had their advantages.

He skipped registration.

Skipped the deposit.

And went straight into the emergency room.

The sorcerer wrapped in the cloak wasn’t about to give up that easily.

His body suddenly jerked.

Then his spirit tore free.

Astral projection.

We’re sorcerers, not ordinary humans.

If his body was trapped, he’d simply use his soul to continue the hunt.

His astral form floated through the air.

He spotted the portal Strange had left behind and moved toward it.

Then something grabbed him by the back of the neck.

"Trying astral projection in front of me?"

Evenson stood there.

The sorcerer’s eyes widened.

A moment later, his soul condensed into a purple crystal.

Evenson looked at it and shrugged.

"I was going to have to pull your soul out myself before I could turn it into a Soul Crystal."

He gave the crystal a little shake.

"You just saved me a step. Thanks."

Strange, meanwhile, had arrived at the hospital and demonstrated another questionable use of medical expertise.

He lay unconscious—or nearly so—on the operating table.

Then his astral form appeared beside Christine Palmer.

"Stephen?"

Palmer nearly jumped out of her skin.

"You’re dead?"

"Not yet."

Strange pointed toward his own body.

"But I’m getting close."

He began giving her instructions.

"There’s blood pooling in my chest. Drain it with a syringe. Then give me adrenaline. After that, close the wound..."

Palmer stared at him.

"You’re seriously going to tell me how to operate on yourself while you’re standing there like a ghost?"

Strange didn’t seem to think this was particularly unusual.

He was a world-famous surgeon, after all.

Under his direction, Palmer managed to stabilize the catastrophic wound.

And perhaps because the two of them had never truly stopped caring about each other, the experience finally broke through whatever had kept them apart.

A near-death experience had a way of putting things into perspective.

By the time it was over, they had found their way back to each other.

Strange didn’t stay at the hospital.

Once he was stable enough, he returned through a portal to the New York Sanctum.

By then, Mordo had finally dealt with the remaining creatures Gildres had summoned.

Although, strictly speaking, the creatures had dealt with themselves.

Once their magical energy supply disappeared, their bodies simply collapsed.

The survivors gathered on the second floor.

The Ancient One was waiting for them.

"Both the London Sanctum and the New York Sanctum have fallen."

Her expression was solemn.

"For now, Hong Kong is the only Sanctum still capable of protecting us."

She deliberately omitted one crucial detail:

The Eredar twins had already restored New York’s defensive core.

"We still have to fight."

Her eyes settled on Strange.

"Master Strange—"

"No."

Strange’s expression was completely blank.

"I am Dr. Strange."

He looked exhausted.

"Not a master. Not a sorcerer. A doctor."

The Ancient One said nothing.

"I just killed someone."

Strange’s voice tightened.

"When I became a doctor, I swore that I would do everything I could to prevent people from being hurt."

His fists clenched.

"And I just killed someone."

The Ancient One’s expression became difficult to describe.

Evenson, meanwhile, nearly choked.

Seriously?

You’re taking credit for that?

I killed him.

Strange had no idea.

When he’d returned from the hospital, he’d seen the sorcerer lying motionless on the floor with the red cloak still wrapped around his head.

Naturally, Strange had assumed the man had been suffocated.

It had looked horrible.

And somehow, in his mind, that meant he had killed him.

"I became a doctor to save people."

"You became a doctor to save one person."

The Ancient One’s reply was calm.

"Yourself."

Strange looked at her.

"You are arrogant. You believe you can control everything, even death."

She shook her head.

"But no one controls death."

"Not even Dormammu?"

Strange finally said what had been burning inside him.

"I saw the ritual in the missing pages of the book."

The Ancient One’s pupils contracted slightly.

Her apprentice was far more perceptive than she’d expected.

"I understood immediately what was happening."

"Be very careful with what you say next."

"Because you don’t like hearing it?"

"Because you don’t understand what you’re about to say."

Mordo looked between them.

"What the hell are you two talking about?"

Strange didn’t look away from the Ancient One.

"I can explain how she has lived for so long."

His voice rose.

"And how she became immortal."

The Ancient One’s expression hardened.

"She drew power from the Dark Dimension."

Strange’s eyes remained fixed on her.

"Just like Kaecilius."

"Impossible."

Mordo’s immediate denial was automatic.

But the Ancient One’s extraordinary longevity had always been difficult to explain.

Evenson suddenly cut in.

"If you’re not going to help, then leave."

Mordo looked toward him.

Evenson didn’t give him time to respond.

"You want your hands fixed?"

He gestured toward Mordo.

"I can restore them right now."

Then he turned toward Strange.

"And you can go back to your old life."

His voice became colder.

"Go home. Kiss the people you love goodbye. Say goodbye to everyone who matters to you."

Strange’s expression tightened.

"Because by tomorrow, the world might not exist anymore."

Evenson leaned closer.

"And don’t forget to tell them that the reason it happened is because Stephen Strange was a coward."

Strange’s face went pale.

Evenson immediately covered his mouth.

"Wow."

He sounded almost apologetic.

"Was that too harsh?"

He considered it.

"Actually, yes. Refusing to sacrifice yourself isn’t illegal, even if you had the ability to save someone."

He shrugged.

"From a purely moral standpoint, you don’t necessarily have to risk your life for strangers."

"So don’t worry about it."

Strange stared at him.

"I’ll say it again."

His voice was firm.

"I’m a doctor, not a killer."

"You’re a doctor."

Evenson’s expression was merciless.

"And you’re going to be a terrible one."

Strange glared at him.

"Imagine the world as a human body."

Evenson continued.

"Kaecilius and his followers are cancer."

His voice sharpened.

"As a doctor, you know what you do with cancer."

"You cut it out."

Strange said nothing.

"Someone once said that if killing one person saves a thousand, then morality becomes meaningless."

Evenson spread his hands.

"And right now, you’re not saving thousands."

His gaze hardened.

"You’re potentially saving the entire planet."

"You need to think rationally."

"If a patient is beyond saving and suffering horribly, do you consider euthanasia?"

"If a limb is completely necrotic, do you leave it attached because cutting it off feels cruel?"

He stepped closer.

"Or do you amputate it so the rest of the patient can survive?"

Strange’s jaw tightened.

"If you cling to compassion without reason, if you hold onto ideals that accomplish nothing, all you’re doing is allowing the patient to suffer longer."

"Medicine is a science."

"Science requires rational judgment."

"You have a choice to make, Doctor."

Evenson’s eyes locked onto his.

"Are you going to save this world?"

"Or are you going to abandon the very principles that made you a doctor and stand by while every living thing on Earth suffers and dies?"

Strange’s facial muscles twitched.

He stared at Evenson for several seconds.

Then he sighed.

"Is there really no other way?"

Evenson remained silent.

Strange knew exactly what that silence meant.

With the argument already pushed this far, what choice did he have?

Everyone knew medicine couldn’t save the Earth.

"So that’s it."

Strange’s expression hardened.

"Then we finish this."

He raised one finger.

"But fix my hands first."

"No."

Evenson immediately rejected him.

"You can get them treated after we’re done."

Strange stared at him.

Evenson stared back.

For several seconds, neither moved.

Then Strange sighed.

"Fine."

...