"Deathstroke? Won't you vouch for me? Maybe ask your ruthless dictator friend to give me a chance?" Loki said, sitting on the ground, showing no intent to leave. Instead, he turned to Su Ming, who'd been watching the spectacle.
Su Ming had been admiring the afterglow of Doom's magic. Doom fought like a human turret, unleashing relentless offensive spells without restraint or defense, his armor bearing the cost effortlessly.
"None of my business. We're not buddies," Su Ming replied. Loki's silver tongue could sway others, but not him.
"I'm tight with the Wilson clan. Can't prove it now, but you're a tactical genius. Think about it—want to take down past me? I'm your best bet. Whatever prep you've got, let's not repeat history," Loki pressed.
Su Ming's interest piqued. "Repeat history? You're saying Doom defeated your past self, and that's why you're like this?"
Loki sighed, standing to dust off his pants, clutching the flaming skull. "In my memory, Doom beat me, you took down Odin, Magik ambushed Mephisto, and Hamir held off Master Kaluu. Odin and the Ancient One made a deal, sealed my memories, and molded me into the original Loki."
"Lies! If your memories were sealed, Doom doubts you could break free from Odin and the Ancient One's power. You'd know nothing," Doom snapped, spotting the flaw in Loki's tale.
Loki remained unfazed, biting his finger to draw blood and sketching vertical lines on the wall. "I had a backup in the underworld. As the God of Stories, I struck a deal with Hela—an auto-observing record sent to the time stream's source. It logs events into a book, returned to me at specific moments, restoring my memories."
"Interesting. Do you trust your future or past selves? If I were you, I wouldn't trust myself," Su Ming said, standing beside Doom, watching Loki's lines.
The five jagged lines suggested Loki saw himself as five distinct entities, his finger tracing their disjointed paths, all trending in one direction. Time, no matter how you leap through it, flows inexorably downstream.
"Can't fully trust or distrust them. Makes it fun, doesn't it?" Loki grinned, turning.
"Then tell me, how did I beat Odin? If your past matches my plan, I might believe a tenth of your words," Su Ming challenged.
"Just a tenth? I thought we were pals. Your cousin loves me," Loki said, pausing his wall-drawing, frowning.
"I don't like him. Spill it or shut it," Su Ming replied, arms crossed, unfazed.
"You're lying. You bought him Saudi citizenship so he could marry multiple wives," Loki shot back, pointing out a flaw.
"His pelvis cycles between shattering and healing, tugged like a doll by his wives, buried under insane bills. If you call that happiness, not a curse, then sure, I treated him well," Su Ming countered.
So this was the fallout from their WWII trip. The Wade Cup Grand Prix never crowned a winner—did future Su Ming declare them all co-champions?
Loki opened his mouth, but Su Ming cut him off, yanking his greatsword from the ground. "Last chance." Whether Loki was stalling or cozying up, Su Ming was done listening.
Loki took a deep breath, rubbing his face. "You became the Sorcerer Supreme. That's how you won."
"Details," Su Ming pressed, frowning. He'd avoid that path if he could. What went wrong?
"You used your bones and an otherworldly gem to wield the Eye of Agamotto, threatening to revive 40 million Asgardian einherjar and 2 billion underworld souls to force Odin's surrender."
Doom interjected calmly, "It's recorded. The second Sorcerer Supreme's first battle was against Odin, a top-tier Allfather, and he won decisively." Doom admired the ruthlessness, caring only for the victor's perspective, not the loser's complaints.
Reviving millions of Asgardians sounds like a boon for Odin, right? Wrong. The 40 million einherjar were part of Odin's pact with Death—a temporary loan. Ragnarok was inevitable, and the einherjar were fated to perish in that final war, returning to the cycle.
Odin kept them in Valhalla for that last stand. Death agreed, knowing Ragnarok would bring a massive death toll—an investment with exponential returns. The einherjar would slay demons, humans, anything in their path, until they fell again. All souls would return to Death.
Hela's souls were similar—cowards in life, but their numbers compensated for their lack of valor. In Ragnarok, they'd form an undead army to purge the Nine Realms, tools of Death to erase all life.
If Su Ming revived all those souls, Death's future gains would vanish, along with her capital. Those 2.04 billion souls might be trivial to her, but they were the lever to tip the universe toward death.
The kicker? Odin would benefit—revived souls would bolster Asgard's population, a clear asset. He'd become Death's prime suspect. Even if Odin protested, claiming he was framed, would Death believe him? Cake crumbs on your face, a bloated belly, and you say someone else ate it? Good luck.
Odin could overpower the Time Stone, but how do you defend against someone forcing benefits on you? No magic or tech counters that.
Breaking Death's pact meant inviting her wrath. Defeating Death might stop all death in the universe, disrupting cosmic order and summoning the Living Tribunal, Eternity, and Oblivion. Could Odin survive? Could Asgard?
Killing billions to appease Death wouldn't work either—they wouldn't stand still to be slaughtered. Losing even one soul would enrage Death, demanding compensation for her lost future—a bottomless debt she'd never forgive.
If Su Ming pulled this off, Odin's best move would be to kill him and then himself, settling the score in Death's court. But Su Ming wasn't afraid of Death. He'd send her a gift: cousin Wade, eager to charm her with his… lower half, clearing Su Ming's name. Death would love the chatterbox.
But Odin? No escape. Without him, Asgard would crumble. If Deadpool entangled with Death, Odin, the root of it all, would face Thanos' wrath, sparking an Infinity War.
Su Ming's threat would force Odin's surrender—exactly his plan.
As for the Sorcerer Supreme title, Su Ming realized the Ancient One would keep pushing it on him. This time, it was Odin; next, who knows? He couldn't touch her—she'd helped him too much. But their views clashed: she insisted on giving, he refused.
She orchestrated time-related crises, showcasing the Time Stone's power to nudge him. Infuriating.
Ignore her, and she'd keep scheming. Kill her? The one who defeats the Sorcerer Supreme becomes the next—ironic trap.
So, Su Ming relented. He'd take the title, delegate to Hamir, and redirect the dimensional defense array's cost elsewhere.
"At this point, am I still Sorcerer Supreme?" Su Ming asked Doom.
"You were, until you took your planet out of the multiverse to dodge this collision. The magical community no longer recognizes you. Doctor Strange holds the title now," Doom replied.
"How did I bear the dimensional array's cost?"
Loki answered calmly, "You endured it with your bones. You never learned a single spell, let alone shifted the cost. It eroded you—inside out—reducing you to a boneless, thinking heap. Your followers crafted a golden throne, elevating you to godhood."
Loki's eyes gleamed with a 'you're standing now, but not for long' look, counting on his fingers: "They called you 'Emperor,' renamed Vanaheim 'Holy Terra.' A group dubbed the 'Mechanicus' used subspace tech to pull your planet from the multiverse."
Su Ming fell silent, gripping and releasing Night's Veil. Ciri and Magik watched him with concern. After a long pause, he muttered, "Who the hell wrote that story?"
Loki shrugged, his face lit red by the skull's flames, feigning helplessness. "If you don't want that future, can I join you now?"
"If that's the future you describe, I'd let you in. But you're lying. Magik, move."