The void between the god's brows stretched endlessly—no earth, no sun, just boundless emptiness shrouded in tendrils of milky white mist. These misty strands were the essence of pure, condensed magical energy.
Within this ethereal realm, dozens of figures cautiously navigated the void. Each sorcerer darted between rays of luminous energy essence like thieves evading capture, terrified of making contact with the powerful substance.
Strange could see the unmistakable fear etched in the faces of his fellow fallen sorcerers. This space, though appearing to be a sanctuary hidden within the god's consciousness, was in truth a realm of mounting danger.
None dared absorb even a single ray of the surrounding energy, knowing the devastating counterattack that would follow. This power belonged to the god alone—they were merely trespassers in one of the deity's most sacred cognitive domains. How could they possibly believe the sleeping god would leave such power undefended?
"Mephisto, how much farther must we go?" Strange asked, his deep voice laced with concern. "We've been dodging these energy strands for what feels like eternity."
He glanced toward the demon lord, crimson cape shifting around his shoulders. "If the battle outside concludes and Lockhart and the others find us here, we're finished."
Grindelwald's eyes gleamed with appreciation at Strange's performance. As expected of his favorite pupil—playing the double-agent with flawless conviction.
Dai Wei's face clouded with worry upon hearing Strange's words. Like the other fallen sorcerers, his attention turned immediately to Mephisto, urgency evident in his expression.
The probability of any of them ascending to godhood was dismally low—they all understood this reality. Yet with this rare opportunity to dramatically increase those odds dangling before them, how could they not feel desperate?
If Mephisto weren't the Evil God himself, they would have imprisoned him long ago to eliminate competition.
"Don't worry, don't be anxious," Mephisto replied with unnerving calmness, his yellow eyes surveying the group. "In my tens of thousands of years of experience, the more anxious one becomes, the less likely they are to succeed."
He smiled, revealing pointed teeth. "Lockhart isn't so easily able to penetrate this realm. And Asgard—Thor especially—won't be defeated so quickly."
His voice dropped to a silky purr. "Besides, should we truly encounter trouble, I will warn you well in advance. Our priority now is locating the God's Essence—the true spirit."
The group fell silent. Among them, only Mephisto, master of soul manipulation, possessed the ability to track the god's soul—its true essence.
Grindelwald, however, remained thoughtful. With centuries of experience and his exceptionally keen mind, he sensed Mephisto wasn't being entirely truthful. Beneath that calm tone lay a distinct thread of vigilance.
Who could the demon lord be wary of? Certainly not sorcerers like themselves—they were beneath Mephisto's notice. Which meant...
Grindelwald shifted his gaze toward Dormammu, who stood apart from the others, the cosmic entity's form rippling with otherworldly energy. The moment this thought formed, Grindelwald sent a telepathic message to Strange using their established Legilimency connection.
Strange made no outward reaction and continued following Mephisto.
After some time passed...
"Mephisto," Strange said, breaking the silence, "can you determine a rough location? Our current search efficiency seems wasteful. We have thirty or forty sorcerers here—if you could narrow the scope, we could divide into multiple groups."
He gestured with gloved hands, creating a small illusion of divided search parties. "This would surely save time and improve our chances."
After Strange finished speaking, the chamber fell eerily silent. Expressions varied among the gathered sorcerers—some frowned in contemplation, others shifted with obvious intent, while a few remained as impassive as Mephisto himself.
Grindelwald, carefully observing Mephisto's every micro-expression, detected something unexpected—excitement. The demon was excited by Strange's suggestion. Immediately, Grindelwald sent another telepathic message to Strange.
Meanwhile, Dormammu and Mephisto began their own discussion.
"Should we separate the group?" Dormammu's voice resonated with cosmic power.
"What have you discovered?" Mephisto countered.
"The essence is well-hidden. Perhaps a different approach..."
"We could observe their choices if we split them."
"Divide them, then?"
Their exchange seemed casual, but each sentence was carefully measured—a test.
Mephisto would never speak first in such circumstances. He firmly believed that beings like Dormammu and David would always follow his lead, never abandoning his side.
Alas, Mephisto thought, the burden of reputation.
The fallen sorcerers debated among themselves. Some agreed that separation would increase efficiency—and if lucky, they might claim the prize first. Others worried that any who found the god's essence would attack immediately, without notifying the rest—effectively abandoning them.
Better to remain with Mephisto, they reasoned. Even if progress was slower, they would not be left behind. Their portion, however small, must be secured.
"Strange, what have you discovered?" David interrupted, his eyes narrowing.
There had to be a reason Strange suddenly suggested splitting up. David's plan was nearly complete, but suspicion consumed him now—especially regarding Mephisto and Dormammu. Most of his attention focused on them, but even Strange, whom he'd trusted, wasn't above suspicion.
Forty people, yet eight hundred minds at work!
Strange quickly sent a telepathic message in response.
"Nothing concrete, Chief."
"I primarily wanted to test Mephisto and Dormammu's reactions."
"Mephisto has led us nowhere despite his powers. I question whether he's deliberately delaying."
David considered Strange's perspective thoughtfully, something new occurring to him.
"Ahem." David cleared his throat softly, and the scattered discussions gradually ceased.
"Everyone," he began, commanding the room with his presence, "should we explore separately, or continue as one group?"
As the leader controlling the majority of forces present, David presented himself as democratic. Yet no one spoke immediately, each waiting to gauge others' reactions first.
This team is impossible to lead, David thought with hidden frustration.
"To ensure our common interests," he continued after the prolonged silence, "I propose we establish another covenant."
His eyes swept across the assembly. "I promise that after we separate, whoever finds any clue will notify everyone immediately."
Almost instantly, all attention shifted to Dormammu and Mephisto—particularly Mephisto. As a master of soul manipulation, he theoretically had the highest probability of finding what they sought.
Sensing their focus, Mephisto remained silent momentarily, as if contemplating something profound. Then, a smile spread across his face—not reaching his eyes.
"Of course," he purred. "That seems perfectly fair!"