The strands of white mist in the space between the god's brows drifted languidly, as if stirred by an ethereal breeze. Several squads of fallen sorcerers had spread out across the vast expanse, each magician vigilant for potential dangers lurking in this divine domain.
Suddenly...
Zhi! Zhi!
A fallen sorcerer, with no apparent warning or defense, crossed what had seemed an empty patch of void.
In the next heartbeat, blood erupted from his body.
The unfortunate sorcerer's form was instantly divided into countless tiny cubes, each perfectly geometric in its horror. More disturbing still, the segmented body didn't collapse—the cubes remained suspended in perfect formation, maintaining the sorcerer's human shape as if held by an invisible force.
Blood began to float around the suspended form, and flesh gradually separated, cube by cube. From within the fragmented skull, white cerebrospinal fluid oozed outward, glistening in the misty light.
This horrific spectacle made the surrounding masters' scalps tingle with dread. They instinctively retreated, not daring to venture near the affected space. The death before them was beyond gruesome—far more terrifying than any medieval execution could have been.
One of the hidden wizards swallowed hard as he observed from a distance. The deceased had been powerful, yet had died so effortlessly, as if his demise were merely an afterthought.
Tragic. Utterly deplorable.
The observing wizard immediately transmitted what he'd witnessed to all other sorcerers in the realm. Before separating into groups, they had signed a magical contract bound by their life forces—any strange, bizarre, or dangerous encounters must be reported without delay.
The death they'd just witnessed was clearly an unfortunate trigger of some defense mechanism, and the location of the suspended, cubed body marked the source of the anomaly.
After sending the message, the wizard continued to stare at his fallen comrade. After a moment's hesitation, a greedy smile twisted his lips. He waved his sling ring, replacing it with a gray-black enchanted rope that he carefully extended forward.
His target: the sling ring still perfectly intact on the dead sorcerer's fragmented finger.
Sling rings weren't merely portaling devices; with proper modification, they could function as dimensional storage or even as powerful magical artifacts. This particular ring clearly served as dimensional storage, likely containing invaluable mystical resources.
However...
Zhi! Zhi!
The moment the enchanted rope touched the sling ring, the ring began to fracture and disintegrate. Simultaneously, it appeared the rope had triggered something far worse.
In the next moment, the greedy sorcerer's eyes dulled. Before he could even register his mistake, his body suffered the same fate as his predecessor's—penetrated by invisible threads of magic that divided him into countless precise cubes. Blood floated outward, milky white fluid leaked from his fragmented brain, and the horror repeated itself in perfect symmetry.
Another vigilant sorcerer witnessed this second death from a safe distance.
"Caution! All sorcerers be warned—there is an invisible, mobile trap within this space," he transmitted urgently. "We have lost two companions already!"
The message spread instantly, putting every sorcerer on heightened alert. After all, they each had only one life—there would be no resurrection for the fallen.
Meanwhile, David was exploring with Mephisto, Grindelwald, and their team. Upon receiving the warning, David turned to the demon lord.
"Mephisto, can you sense these potential dangers within the space?" he asked, his wand gripped tightly in preparation.
Grindelwald, walking nearby, narrowed his eyes and listened intently. Though they had divided into different squads, ensuring powerful figures weren't all grouped together, he maintained his vigilance.
Strange had naturally joined another exploration team seeking the god embryo's soul essence, while Grindelwald had manipulated events to keep himself with David's group.
"Not with certainty," Mephisto replied, shaking his head. "If genuine danger exists, I might sense something upon getting closer—but I cannot discern details from here."
Everyone sighed at this response, lamenting the terrible luck of the fallen sorcerers.
But at that moment...
"Mr. Mephisto," Grindelwald interjected with calculated precision, "is it normal for mobile traps to manifest in this cognitive space?" He gestured with his Elder Wand. "I comprehend the logic of moving traps, but I find it curious that the second sorcerer died so readily—without any defensive response."
His eyes narrowed. "Or perhaps these traps can automatically identify their targets?"
Hearing this, Mephisto closed his eyes slightly, feigning deep contemplation.
"Let's investigate," he finally said. "If there are clues to be found, that would be ideal."
The group proceeded toward the location of the recent deaths, though none seemed particularly concerned. With no clear leads elsewhere, they had little choice but to follow Mephisto's guidance.
Soon they reached the area where the fallen sorcerers had met their ends. Mephisto had barely stepped into the vicinity when suddenly—
The demon lord felt his scalp prickle with warning, a cold sensation washing down his spine. In a single fluid motion, he retreated several steps with supernatural speed.
The surrounding sorcerers looked on in confusion. Nothing had happened, which prompted suspicious glances from David and the others.
What game is Mephisto playing now? David wondered.
Grindelwald, however, observed the area with genuine interest. He had felt a subtle chill and unease—something imperceptible to most, but significant to a wizard of his experience.
"What's wrong?" David demanded.
"Nothing serious," Mephisto answered dismissively. "There's a spatial trap located there. Exercise caution and avoid triggering it."
His explanation was perfunctory but contained the essential warning required by their contract. After all, their agreement had been signed with blood magic—a binding oath that couldn't be easily broken without dire consequences.
David nodded, abandoning any thought of investigating the area further. His priorities were clear: finding the god's essence took precedence over examining mysterious traps.
Time was precious. The battle outside—between Lockhart and Thor—could end at any moment. Should those two cease their conflict and enter this space between the god's brows, everyone present would face grave peril.
Soon, Mephisto led the group in another direction. As they departed, no one seemed to notice the faint gray speck that remained in the trapped area.
As the sorcerers' figures disappeared into the distance, the gray speck began to expand. A shadowy form materialized, quickly taking human shape.
It was Mephisto—or more precisely, an aspect of his consciousness he had secretly left behind.
Gazing at the area before him, his lips curled into a satisfied smile. His hands moved in complex patterns, releasing wisps of gray and black mist that began filling the space.
The contract they had signed emphasized that information must be shared and nothing concealed. However, if he had prepared certain measures in advance...
The contract held no power over actions already set in motion.