BOOM!
High above the English countryside, Ikaris hovered in the azure sky, crimson energy beams erupting from his eyes with devastating precision. The concentrated power streaked toward his target below, impacting with thunderous force. A miniature mushroom cloud blossomed at the point of impact, dust and debris billowing outward in concentric waves.
Not far from the epicenter, a fallen sorcerer floated mid-air, naked fear etched across his features—a practitioner who had narrowly evaded obliteration.
In an instant, Ikaris appeared directly before the startled sorcerer, his eyes still smoldering with barely contained power. "You miserable wretch," he snarled, "pray I don't capture you, or I'll demonstrate precisely how life can become worse than death!"
Even as these threats left his lips, the fallen sorcerer—Master Michonne—initiated his counter-offensive. With practiced precision, he rotated his sling ring, channeling mystical energy from his core. The ambient temperature plummeted dramatically as countless dark blue ice needles materialized throughout the surrounding void.
Each needle bore an unsettling characteristic—a thin layer of dark green sigils inscribed across their crystalline surfaces, pulsing with malevolent purpose.
Observing this eldritch attack, Ikaris's expression shifted from confidence to alarm. His preternatural senses detected imminent mortal peril—an unsettling sensation crawling beneath his skin. Instinctively, his body tensed into a defensive posture, entering heightened combat readiness.
Damnable sorcerers, Ikaris inwardly cursed, casting a brief glance groundward to survey additional battlefields. He spotted Sersi engaged with a red-robed sorcerer in particularly intense combat.
Focus, he reminded himself, redirecting attention to his immediate adversary. Their situation had become increasingly precarious. Some unknown force prevented communication with the Celestials and effectively imprisoned them on Earth. Simultaneously, these ambitious sorcerers had begun systematically targeting them for capture.
Their initial encounter had caught the Eternals unprepared, resulting in significant casualties. Despite subsequent vigilance, they remained at a tactical disadvantage—outnumbered by formidable opponents of considerable magical prowess.
This particular confrontation had begun innocuously enough. Ikaris, Sersi, and Kingo had ventured beyond their sanctuary seeking intelligence, only to encounter enemy forces yet again.
Whiiiiir!
With subtle gesticulation, Michonne directed the airborne ice needles toward Ikaris. The deadly projectiles accelerated with unnatural velocity.
Suddenly—
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A crackling barrier of golden lightning materialized before Ikaris, accompanied by a luminescent shield of pale amber energy. A silver-haired figure emerged silently at his side—Thena, captain of the Eternals.
The ice needles collided against her protective barrier with percussive force, shattering upon impact while the shield remained intact. Both Eternals exhaled with momentary relief.
Their respite proved short-lived. The fallen sorcerer's sinister smile suggested the attack's true purpose remained unrevealed. From each shattered needle emerged wisps of dark green vapor—an intelligent miasma that swirled purposefully toward the Eternals.
Their expressions registered immediate concern. Even minimal contact with the mist produced intense corrosive sensation coupled with progressive paralysis. Direct inhalation would likely prove catastrophic.
"Ajak!" Thena called out without hesitation.
Instantly, waves of healing emerald light radiated outward from their position, neutralizing the poisonous vapor on contact. Ajak, the Eternal with unparalleled healing capabilities, had intervened precisely when needed—detoxification representing merely one facet of her extensive restorative abilities.
Warmth suffused their bodies as energy levels stabilized, prompting expressions of grateful relief.
Michonne's countenance darkened appreciably. His frustration stemmed not merely from his neutralized attack, but from the battlefield's rapidly shifting dynamics below.
Across the ground-based confrontations, streaks of golden lightning indicated strategic reinforcement of previously isolated combat zones—Makkari, the Eternal speedster, had arrived. Having received distress signals, she had mobilized remaining team members for coordinated counterattack.
Grindelwald, still maintaining his flawless Strange disguise, observed the speedster and Sersi with scholarly fascination.
Truly remarkable specimens, he thought. These Eternals present most intriguing capabilities.
Sersi, with her ebony hair flowing like living shadow, exhibited matter manipulation that bordered on miraculous. Her transformative abilities operated with effortless grace—earth becoming metal, metal dissolving into nebulous vapor, atmospheric elements solidifying into stone. Her command over physical matter appeared nearly absolute.
Similarly impressive was Makkari's preternatural velocity—movement approaching lightspeed execution. Each Eternal appeared to possess unique specialized talents rather than generalized abilities.
They resemble magical creatures more than conventional beings, Grindelwald realized. Each with singular, specialized evolutionary adaptations.
Grindelwald's lips curved into subtle satisfaction as additional Eternals emerged into view. Finally, the complete assemblage had arrived—precisely as intended.
With his formidable magical capabilities, subduing Sersi—whose powers, while impressive, lacked offensive versatility—would have been trivial. His calculated delay had been strategic, designed specifically to await full Eternal reinforcement.
Meanwhile, the previous captive had proven most informative during physiological examination.
The Cloak of Levitation undulated with apparent excitement, sensing proximity to its supposed master. From within the Eye of Agamotto, the real Doctor Strange observed with mounting disgust.
Treacherous garment, he thought bitterly. So easily deceived.
Grindelwald raised his right hand skyward in dramatic gesture. Immediately, intricate dark blue geometric patterns manifested across the cerulean expanse above, forming an elaborate magical lattice. The construct rapidly collapsed inward, generating an impenetrable azure barrier that encompassed the entire battlefield.
BOOM!
A flash of golden lightning collided with the barrier's perimeter. Makkari, attempting to breach the enclosure at superluminal velocity, crashed unceremoniously to earth. Her fellow Eternals converged protectively around her fallen form.
"Makkari! Are you injured?" Gilgamesh inquired with evident concern.
"We're trapped," she responded with uncharacteristic alarm. "This is a calculated ambush."
Simultaneously, Michonne and another fallen sorcerer took position behind Grindelwald, regarding the assembled Eternals with undisguised avarice.
Grindelwald advanced with measured steps. Crimson flames erupted from the ground around him, encircling the confrontation zone in perfect circumference. The mystical fire contracted gradually, intensifying the atmosphere's oppressive solemnity.
"Esteemed members of the Eternal race," Grindelwald addressed them with calculated cordiality. "This represents our inaugural meeting."
He gestured toward himself with theatrical modesty. "You may address me as Master Strange."
The ten Eternals rose to standing positions, their expressions registering various degrees of indignation. Superficially, numerical advantage favored their collective—ten against merely three opponents.
However, as Grindelwald continued his advance, perceptible tension radiated through the Eternal ranks. They clearly detected the lethal potential emanating from this strange sorcerer—an intuitive recognition that imprudent action would result in immediate casualties.
"Your extended residence upon Earth spans millennia," Grindelwald observed conversationally, his tone deceptively pleasant. His next words emerged with predatory precision:
"Perhaps the time has arrived to render appropriate compensation."
Behind her impassive expression, Thena calculated potential counteroffensive strategies. The sorcerer before them radiated power unlike anything she had encountered in countless centuries—something fundamentally wrong permeated his magical signature, as though two distinct energies coexisted in uncomfortable symbiosis.
From his mystical imprisonment, Doctor Strange marshaled every fragment of his consciousness toward a singular objective—breaking through Grindelwald's containment to warn the Eternals. If he could communicate even momentarily, perhaps catastrophe might still be averted.
The dark wizard's true goal remained the Celestial embryo. These powerful beings represented merely another game piece on his cosmic chessboard—pawns to be sacrificed in service to ambition beyond comprehension.
As crimson flames contracted further around the assemblage, Phastos cautiously manipulated microscopic technological components embedded within his palm—a desperate attempt to signal Arishem despite the dimensional interference. Their creator needed to know: Earth's Celestial egg faced imminent existential threat.