Who am I?
Am I David?
Am I Madoc?
Am I Francis?
I am...
I am from Kamar-Taj and I am a sorcerer.
No, no, no—I betrayed Kamar-Taj. I am a fallen sorcerer...
I want to protect the world.
No, I want to become a god...
...
KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL!
The path to godhood is paved with death!
Damned sorcerers!
Just die, or drag the fallen sorcerers down with you...
These traitors—your conspiracy will never succeed...
...
Deep within the nascent deity's soul, myriad conflicting thoughts surfaced and collided. Some ran parallel, others diverged, and many stood in direct opposition. These fragmented consciousnesses—remnants of the sorcerers whose souls had been absorbed—transformed into spiritual nutrients, continuously feeding the god's emerging true spirit.
In optimal circumstances, pure thoughts would have provided the ideal foundation. But now, having suffered severe damage, the reforming divine essence had no alternative but to absorb everything available to it—pure and corrupted alike.
The immense true spirit of the god slowly coalesced into a constantly shifting spiritual imprint. Across its metaphysical surface, a chaotic spectrum of colors intermingled without pattern or harmony. An aura of twisted malevolence emanated from certain sections, radiating a subtle but unmistakable murderous intent.
The mere sight of this corrupted divine pattern would have been enough to contaminate an ordinary mortal's mind, transforming them into deformed abominations. Yet despite—or perhaps because of—this corruption, the nourishment provided by the multitude of absorbed true spirits accelerated the god's awakening.
The spiritual brand grew increasingly complete, the aura it emitted becoming more mysterious, twisted, and unhinged with each passing moment.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
The vast divine realm began to pulse with rhythmic breaths, like a slumbering titan stirring from eons of dreamless sleep. Strange, chaotic transformations manifested throughout this pocket dimension.
Barren deserts were suddenly inundated with seawater, creating impossible coastlines. Prehistoric creatures—long extinct on Earth—flooded into regions of perpetual ice and snow, their primal roars echoing across landscapes where they had never existed.
Water worlds that had been pristine oceans were abruptly contaminated by rivers of molten magma that poured forth from nowhere. The waters began to boil violently, filling the air with scalding steam that condensed into clouds of unnatural colors.
The god's internal world underwent cataclysmic metamorphosis, energy patterns throughout becoming erratic and unpredictable. Storms of pure magical force erupted spontaneously, raging across the landscape before dissipating just as suddenly.
Simultaneously, all living entities within this realm—from mundane animals to extraordinary mystical creatures—began exhibiting signs of infection. Their behavior grew increasingly erratic, then violent, then outright murderous as the corruption spread.
Chaos. Bloodlust. Madness.
Great swathes of crimson liquid materialized across the divine landscape, reminiscent of sacrificial offerings from primordial times. The corpses of creatures caught in this supernatural slaughter withered rapidly, desiccating into husks that crumbled to dust.
Their concentrated blood essence ascended skyward, guided by invisible forces, flowing inexorably toward the god's central form. The deity's physical shell, suspended in the dimensional void, began to tremble perceptibly as these ethereal blood offerings spontaneously integrated with its developing body.
The crimson essence flowed into forming veins and arteries, functioning as a catalyst that stimulated the operation of the god's nascent internal organs. Blood circulation initiated, organs began their functions, and systems activated one by one.
The god approached awakening—or more accurately, the god approached birth. A consciousness of divine magnitude was coalescing, destined to enter the universe already possessing godhood.
Outside this internal realm, the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj and warriors of Asgard who maintained their vigil observed these developments with mounting alarm. They swiftly employed various mystical means to contact Lockhart and Thor, who had entered the dimensional space between the god's metaphysical eyebrows.
Upon receiving this intelligence, Lockhart cast a measured glance toward the trembling, metamorphosing divine soul. Despite the chaotic corruption evident in the entity's development, anticipation rather than concern showed in his expression.
Simultaneously, Mephisto appeared to notice these critical changes. With undisguised hunger, he licked his lips as naked greed illuminated his ancient eyes. Without warning, he disengaged from his battle with Lockhart, creating distance between them.
This time, Lockhart made no attempt to prevent Mephisto's withdrawal.
Dormammu likewise abandoned his confrontation, gliding through the dimensional void to position himself beside Mephisto. Their temporary alliance, it seemed, had been rekindled by the imminent divine awakening.
Thor, the God of Thunder, naturally returned to Lockhart's side, his expression troubled.
"Lockhart," he demanded, his voice resonating with barely contained frustration, "tell me now exactly what you intend to accomplish here."
Thor's tone carried not just dissatisfaction but profound suspicion. Dormammu's earlier insinuations had found purchase in his thoughts, planting seeds of doubt that now sprouted into direct questioning.
Though Thor had initially refrained from probing Lockhart's intentions—a restraint born of hard-won trust—he had reached his limit. If Lockhart continued to withhold crucial information at this juncture, Thor might grudgingly accept it, but their alliance would suffer irreparable damage.
Recognizing the gravity in Thor's demeanor, Lockhart abandoned further secrecy. He knew the God of Thunder's legendary temper would not tolerate additional evasion.
"Thor," Lockhart began, his voice measured yet urgent, "I informed you previously that I possessed a solution beneficial to both our causes."
He gestured toward the corrupted divine soul as he continued to explain while simultaneously studying the enormous true spirit taking form before them.
"Your father tasked you with safeguarding the god's true spirit, while our Supreme Sorcerer demands its destruction. These directives appear fundamentally opposed, leading many to conclude that conflict between Asgard and Kamar-Taj is inevitable."
Lockhart's eyes never left the transforming entity as he spoke. "Yet a third path exists—one that achieves equilibrium between these seemingly incompatible objectives."
He turned to face Thor directly. "Consider why your father directed Asgardian forces to guard the dormant deity. Based on the intelligence you provided and my independent research, the critical concern is avoiding the attention of the Celestials at this delicate juncture—attention that would potentially bring devastating consequences to Asgard."
"Therefore," Lockhart continued, "maintaining the god in its dormant state represents the optimal strategy for Asgard's interests."
"Conversely, the Supreme Sorcerer's directive to destroy the god stems from Kamar-Taj's sacred duty to protect Earth from supernatural threats."
At this point, Lockhart paused briefly, conspicuously omitting mention of some secondary motivation.
Resuming his analysis, he addressed Thor: "The requirements of the Supreme Sorcerer and All-Father Odin appear irreconcilable on the surface."
"However," Lockhart's voice took on a subtly triumphant quality, "there exists a nexus point where the interests of both parties achieve perfect alignment."
He held up a finger for emphasis. "That nexus is absolute control over the deity."
"If we establish total dominion over this god, we can command its continued slumber or its destruction according to changing circumstances. For both your father and the Sorcerer Supreme, the existential threat posed by this being would be neutralized entirely."
As comprehension dawned across Thor's features, it was swiftly followed by renewed skepticism.
"Lockhart," Thor pressed, "why did you withhold this reasoning from me until now?"
"I required a convincing trap for Mephisto and his allies," Lockhart explained rapidly, glancing toward the distant figures of Mephisto and Dormammu. "Only genuine opposition between us would motivate them to intercede in this conflict, effectively eliminating the god on our behalf."
He placed a hand on Thor's armored shoulder. "I withheld information because knowledge itself can betray us. The more you knew, the greater the risk of inadvertent disclosure."
"I needed your authentic anger, your unfeigned rage."
"Mephisto's perceptiveness is legendary—any prepared deception would have been transparent to him."
Thor considered this explanation before nodding slowly. "Very well, let us set aside past misunderstandings."
His grip on Mjölnir tightened as he posed his next question: "But how confident are you in your ability to establish absolute control over this entity?"
Thor's voice resonated with genuine curiosity, having rapidly identified the critical element in Lockhart's strategy:
Absolute control was the linchpin upon which everything depended.
Without it, their efforts were meaningless, potentially catastrophic.
Rather than answering directly, Lockhart's gaze fixed on the god's soul, where the twisted true spirit imprint had manifested between its metaphysical eyebrows.
"Thor," he stated with quiet determination, "the moment has arrived."
"I require your assistance for what comes next."
"Protect my physical form."
"Beyond that, take no additional action."
Hearing Lockhart's decisive tone, Thor's expression cleared momentarily before clouding again with questions that demanded voice.
Before he could articulate his concerns, Lockhart cut him off: "Thor, follow my instructions precisely—that will constitute your greatest contribution."
"What follows concerns Mephisto and Dormammu directly."
The instant these words left his lips, Lockhart's soul separated from his physical vessel. His spiritual essence manifested as a stream of crimson flame-colored light that streaked toward the god's metaphysical brow.
With characteristic Asgardian reflexes, Thor caught Lockhart's collapsing body before it could strike the dimensional floor.
Simultaneously, Mephisto and Dormammu—evidently anticipating Lockhart's strategy—initiated their own spiritual projections. Their physical forms began to radiate intense energy as they channeled their consciousness into their souls.
These essence-projections transformed into streams of smoky gray and midnight black light respectively, pursuing Lockhart's crimson soul-light into the god's brow.
The contest for divine control had begun in earnest—three immensely powerful beings racing to claim dominion over a nascent god whose awakening threatened reality itself.
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