As the Ancient One finished her explanation, I was really starting to understand why she came to me, why she came here asking for my help, and I also understood just how bad the situation truly was.
Mephisto was troublesome enough; he would no doubt spare no effort in trying to make deals with my subjects, with those who resisted my rule.
Yelena Belova, the sister of Black Widow and the leader of my Veiled Hand, had already reported that the old elite was getting support from outside my realm.
Despite that, they could do no real harm to my reign, because it wasn't backed purely by the support of my people nor by wealth; my rule was backed by strength, by power, and force.
It was, in the end, the ability to enforce my rule that ensured I was in power; the fact that my people loved me only ensured I didn't have to use that power.
So all those little schemes couldn't shake Albion at all… but it would be very different if those people scheming in the shadows could obtain power.
And Mephisto would likely offer them very generous terms, since he would use them to deal with me—or at least to distract me.
But once you add Dormammu into that mix, things became slightly more dangerous, though again, it was mainly to deal with the Ancient One that Mephisto involved him. After all, should the ruler of the Dark Dimension gain Earth, Mephisto, the ruler of Hell, would lose it all.
So no, Dormammu was merely a distraction, but he was also just a single piece on the board.
Because if it had indeed just been the two of them, it wouldn't have been hard to deal with for someone as experienced and wise as the Ancient One.
The real problem here was the others.
Mephisto had gone all out this time. Not hiding the loss he suffered at my hand, he used it to draw in others—beings who shared the same worry—as he used to make Dormammu cooperate with him.
That if one Hell dimension could be hurt, then so could all others as well.
So beings such as D'Spayre, Fear Lord, and Sovereign of Despair: a demon who mastered the art of causing fear and spreading despair, of breaking hope and bringing ruin. Or at least that was what the Ancient One claimed, and I had no reason to doubt her at all.
And because three powerful demonic beings weren't bad enough, Mephisto also drew in Nightmare, Sovereign of the Dreaming Realms: a demon who feasted on dreams and nightmares.
As well as another Dimension Lord named Satannish, the Lord of the Crimson Chaos: a demon who loved death and destruction, and was willing to give superstrength to his followers, and had them cause chaos and spread fear and terror in his name.
With such a lineup… Earth was heading towards its end, and people didn't even realize it. I, too, hadn't known about this threat if it wasn't for the Ancient One needing my help.
At times, it was good to have someone like her, because it meant I didn't have to worry about threats from other dimensions, but at other times… it didn't feel particularly good to be in the dark like this.
Still, now I knew about it, though that didn't do much for helping with dealing with it.
After all, these aren't just small-time demons, nor even demon princes like Blackheart; these are true cosmic powerhouses, each no less powerful than the Ancient One herself.
While knowing about them was good, it didn't do much to deal with their threat. I couldn't just storm into their realms and fight them; some of them might be possible, like Satannish, but Nightmare? He was more concept than being.
One didn't just fight against a nightmare, and I also had no way of stopping him from plaguing my subjects with them.
"This is greatly troubling news you have given me," I finally said.
The throne room felt heavier now. The weight of the coming darkness was weighing on us all, and the understanding of what we were facing was heavy indeed.
Until now, my conflicts had been earthly in nature. Nations. Mutants. Wakanda. Demons breaching through singular gates. Problems with borders, politics, power structures.
This was different.
This was not a war over land.
It was a war over reality.
The Ancient One watched me carefully, measuring my reaction. She did not press. She did not dramatize the situation further. She did not need to. The weight of the names she had spoken lingered like smoke.
Mephisto, architect of temptation.
Dormammu, devourer of dimensions.
D'Spayre, sovereign of despair.
Nightmare, tyrant of the dreaming mind.
Satannish, lord of crimson chaos.
Individually, each of them was a catastrophe.
Together, they were an extinction event.
"You understand now," she said quietly. Not a question. A confirmation.
"Yes," I answered.
And I did.
This was not merely about Albion.
It was not even merely about Earth.
It was about precedent.
If one realm of darkness could be wounded, then darkness itself was no longer eternal. That truth terrified them. And terrified beings are dangerous in ways the arrogant never are.
"They cannot be allowed to remain united," I continued, my thoughts moving from assessment to strategy. "A coalition built on fear is unstable. Fear turns quickly to betrayal."
"It would," the Ancient One agreed, "under normal circumstances."
I did not like the implication in her tone.
"They believe you are an existential threat," she said. "That fear overrides rivalry. It overrides pride. For now."
For now.
That meant their unity would not fracture on its own.
Which meant I would have to break it.
Mordred shifted beside me, restless, eager for battle. "So we invade them," she said bluntly. "Hit the biggest one first. Cut off the head."
"If only it were that simple," the Ancient One replied. "You cannot invade all of them at once. And if you strike one realm directly, the others will not sit idle. They will retaliate against Earth."
"And worse, it would prove to them that the threat is worse than they imagined; they would go all out after that, and breaking their alliance apart would be all but impossible," I added.
Which wasn't even to mention the problem that the Ancient One highlighted.
If I left Earth undefended to wage war in another dimension, I risked everything I sought to protect. If I remained on Earth, they would chip away at me through corruption, dreams, contracts, cults, and despair until the balance tipped.
It wasn't even a stalemate, because they could clearly hurt me, while my ability to hurt them back was limited.
Time was on their side in this conflict.
I rose slowly from the throne.
Without a word, I walked over to the window. I always found it calming to look over my city and my realm.
Out there, it was peaceful. Under my banner and the blessing of the Holy Grail, people didn't suffer; they found new meaning in their work, and in turn, the work was rewarding.
No more were they slaving away just to pay an ever-increasing rent. No more did they see their hard-earned money flow to distant shores while their roads filled with holes.
While the sick waited far too long for treatment, the rich got cured before the poor even got diagnosed.
In truth, the current Albion was a bad place for the Lords of Hell to try and spread their corruption; the people were too content with what they had. When they saw their lives improve day by day, why would they sell their souls?
Though in turn, the rest of the world was ripe for their touch; they would find no shortage of desperate people.
That didn't mean I could ignore them.
There were still people within my realm who would bow to dark masters, and with time, Nightmare could weaken the resolve of more, slowly letting D'Spayre spread his despair.
Not to mention it didn't take many people to open a portal, flooding my lands with demons. Sure, that could be stopped, but it would still help spread their influence.
After all, when demons murder your neighbours, you are far more willing to sell something as abstract as your soul for the power to protect yourself and your loved ones.
When the desperate pray for deliverance, they care not who answers.
Silence followed that thought.
The wind brushed against the stained glass windows of Camelot's highest tower, the city below bathed in late golden light. It was peaceful. Too peaceful for the storm gathering beyond sight.
Behind me, I could feel the presence of the others—Mordred's impatience, Bedivere's quiet steadiness, the Ancient One's measured stillness. They waited for my decision.
I did not turn immediately.
"If I remain," I said at last, still looking out over Albion, "they will scheme. They will whisper. They will tempt the desperate, frighten the weak, and undermine the strong. Slowly. Methodically. They will turn the world into a field of cracks."
I rested one hand against the cool stone of the window frame.
"If I leave recklessly," I continued, "they will strike in force. Not directly at me—but at what I protect. They will open gates. Spread nightmares. Infect minds. And the world will burn while I am away."
Neither option was acceptable.
So there would be a third.
I turned.
The throne room seemed smaller now. More focused.
"You did not come to me merely to warn me," I said to the Ancient One. "You came with a plan."
Her eyes met mine.
"Yes."
"Then speak it plainly."
She inclined her head once.
"I cannot prevent them from acting entirely," she said. "Not if all of them commit to interference at once. But I can change the battlefield."
The air around her shimmered faintly, not as a display, but as a pressure—restrained power, held carefully in place.
"If you choose to take the war to them," she continued, "I will enact a convergence barrier. A multi-layered dimensional interlock anchored to Earth's primary ley lines."
Bedivere frowned slightly. "In simpler terms?"
"I will seal Earth from direct dimensional incursion," she said. "Not perfectly; that can't be done. But I can pick one point that has no protections, forcing them to go through that spot if they want Earth, and at the same time… I can connect their realms and dimensions, which will allow them to better unite their powers."
"But also give them the chance to invade one another—that as long as they can't gain benefits from Earth… the other realms, and the fact that everyone is focused on one battlefield, will tempt them to go back to fighting one another," I finished for her.
Mordred's eyes lit up. "So we can take the fight to them and beat them up without worrying about anything, and eventually, they will go back to fighting among themselves."
I nodded; that did seem to be the plan, though it was also risky.
Because if we failed to stop them, they would have free access to Earth.
Still, I had no doubt the Ancient One was able to force the battlefield away from Earth, and away from their domains… a gap, a space between realms…
"They cannot sustain unity under pressure," I murmured.
"No," she agreed. "They cannot."
Silence settled again, but this time it was not heavy with dread.
It was sharp.
I reached into my soul and called out Excalibur; the brilliant blade shone in my hand, filling the throne room with light and hope.
"They believe I am an existential threat," I said slowly.
"Yes."
"Then let us not disappoint them."
Mordred grinned, sharp and eager.
Bedivere lowered his head in solemn acceptance.
"Under the light of promised victory, I shall lead my knights to victory!" I raised the sword high, its blade glowing like a second sun, casting away every shadow within the room—a prelude to what was coming.
(End of chapter)
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