"Did Team 3 discover anything?" a voice called through the telepathic link established by their contract.
"Nothing yet," came the swift reply.
"Where's Squad 5?"
"Be silent! I just encountered a trap—Asserga is dead," another sorcerer transmitted, his mental voice laced with dread.
"Exercise caution. We're dealing with the soul of a god," someone warned.
The mental exchanges continued unabated.
"I propose we deliberately detonate a controlled area to observe the reaction," suggested one bold sorcerer. "We might uncover valuable clues."
"Absolutely not," countered another immediately. "If we awaken the god embryo, or worse, alert Kamar-Taj to our presence, we'll face consequences beyond imagination."
"Perhaps with minimal magical discharge—"
"Under no circumstances!" a powerful voice interrupted. "No one is to cast high-level magic at will, especially soul-based spells. I've just received confirmation that an entire team was obliterated after attempting the Soul-Destroying Celestial Curse. It provoked the god's essence to counterattack—they were utterly annihilated."
Silence followed this grim announcement as the information coursed through their magical contract. Every sorcerer present felt a chill at this revelation.
Strange glanced at his companions, his expression grave. "Two or three hours have elapsed now. Everything depends on whether the Asgardians can maintain their defense."
"If they fail to contain Lockhart and the others..." He left the statement unfinished, but its meaning hung heavily in the air.
Their group faced an impossible choice: abandon their quest or continue hiding within the god's consciousness. Discovery by Kamar-Taj would mean immediate targeting with overwhelming force—a scenario from which none could hope to escape.
The surrounding sorcerers' expressions darkened at this realization. One of them turned toward Dormammu, noting that the cosmic entity's demeanor remained unchanged.
"Lord Dormammu," he ventured, "what are the odds the Sorcerer Supreme will intervene personally? Perhaps you and Mephisto should remain inconspicuous when the time comes. Your... signatures are too distinctive."
He lowered his voice. "If Lockhart summons the Sorcerer Supreme directly, none of us will escape."
Dormammu paused momentarily before responding. "Your concern is misplaced. Compared to our predicament, it is Odin who should fear the Sorcerer Supreme's intervention most."
Despite his dismissive words, Dormammu's movements betrayed increasing urgency. If he hoped to reclaim his full cosmic power, the god embryo represented his sole opportunity. Otherwise, his recovery would proceed at an agonizingly gradual pace over centuries.
This thought propelled Dormammu to once again extend his mental awareness, searching for traces of the god's embryonic soul. Though his mastery of dark dimension magic was unparalleled, when it came to soul manipulation, even he acknowledged Mephisto's superior expertise.
Suddenly—
"Initial location of the god's true essence confirmed!" Mephisto's mental voice rang through their shared connection. "Spatial coordinates transmitted now..."
A series of precise dimensional markers flooded their consciousness.
"Converge immediately," Mephisto commanded.
Joy illuminated every face. After countless hours of fruitless searching, someone had finally succeeded.
Without hesitation, each sorcerer channeled their magic and rushed toward the identified coordinates.
________________________________________
In the vast emptiness of the void, a golden sphere of light rotated continuously.
Upon closer examination, one could see this immense sphere was outlined by countless pale golden threads. These filaments shifted incessantly, creating ever-changing relief patterns across the sphere's luminous surface.
The sphere itself pulsed with changing colors—one moment pale gold, then shifting to soft emerald green.
More remarkably, it moved—or rather, it jumped through space. In one instant, the sphere vanished from its position on the left only to materialize instantly on the right, then reappearing southward a moment later.
Sometimes these spatial leaps spanned great distances; other times, mere meters.
The behavior resembled nothing so much as a child at play.
Mephisto, David, Grindelwald, and the others stood at a calculated distance, their magic attuned to track the sphere's position with each unpredictable jump. They exchanged theories in hushed tones.
"Undoubtedly the god's true essence," one whispered.
"The color fluctuations must correspond to emotional states," suggested another.
"Could the runes manifesting on its surface represent memory imprints?"
"Within a god's consciousness, can we effectively restrict its movement?"
Question after question arose as they observed the phenomenon with awe and greed.
Fortunately, the divine essence never jumped beyond their tracking range, allowing them to maintain continuous surveillance.
Mephisto narrowed his yellow eyes as he studied the leaping light sphere. Sensing the magical preparations he had secretly deployed throughout this realm, satisfaction flickered across his ancient features.
His earlier efforts had not been in vain—it was precisely because of these preparations that he had successfully guided this congregation of fallen sorcerers to this location.
How unexpected, he thought. This god embryo's essence bears severe injuries.
No wonder their group had survived this long within the divine consciousness—the god was gravely wounded, locked in deep slumber, its defensive measures weakened to mere shadows of their true power.
The timing is exquisite!
Mephisto glanced sideways, assessing the expressions of Dormammu, Strange, David, and the others.
"Everyone has nearly arrived," he announced. "We must act in concert—first restrict the essence's movements, then dismantle its mental defenses."
David immediately stepped forward. "I propose we collectively construct the Umbral Binding Array."
His eyes hardened as he added, "Furthermore, even after successfully containing the essence within our magical circle, no one shall attack it unilaterally. Any who strike first will face our combined retribution."
As he spoke, David cast a pointed glance at Mephisto.
His distrust of the demon lord had never wavered.
Mephisto, seemingly unsurprised by this stipulation, nodded in agreement. Dormammu likewise assented, and naturally, the other sorcerers raised no objections.
They watched as the divine essence continued its innocent leaps through space.
One by one, the fallen sorcerers dispersed to predetermined positions, forming an enormous circle with the essence's activity range at its center.
Once in position, each began manipulating their sling rings. Magical energy poured forth, manifesting as delicate gray threads that gradually filled the surrounding void.
These threads were so fine they could easily escape notice without careful observation.
Each sorcerer channeled power through their sling ring, extending more gray filaments outward.
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
A subtle vibration filled the void as the threads from different sorcerers connected, their magical energies intermingling. The web began expanding at an accelerated rate.
Within a minute—during which the divine essence had jumped only a few times—a magical construct as vast as a small city had taken form.
To prevent the essence from escaping beyond their reach, they expanded the array's range and channeled additional power into it, strengthening the binding net around their quarry.
The moment the array fully manifested, the light sphere seemed to sense impending danger. With subtle spatial distortions rippling around it, the divine essence prepared to flee.
But it was too late.
Like a predator springing from ambush, countless gray tentacles erupted from the array, seizing the divine light sphere in mid-leap.