Chapter 229 – Allen Drives Quicksilver Hysterical
Upon hearing of Allen's exploits, Wanda's eyes were filled with doubt.
No matter how she looked at him, she just couldn't imagine Allen as the Sorcerer Supreme.
But after witnessing with her own eyes how Allen wielded chaotic magic, she couldn't deny his magical talent.
The reason was simple—Wanda had spent years studying the Darkhold to grasp such advanced chaotic magic. It was far from something that could be mastered overnight.
Given that, it wasn't hard to understand why Kamar-Taj would choose someone so obviously unhinged as a successor.
It was just unfortunate that Allen had no interest in the title of Sorcerer Supreme—otherwise, the Ancient One wouldn't have stood a chance.
"I need to call my mom in the Underworld to help find Fast Boy."
As he spoke, swirling streams of chaotic magic formed around Allen's hands. He activated the magical runes on the basement wall, reshaping them into a different spell entirely.
"Summoning magic!?"
Seeing the runes shift slightly, Wanda couldn't be sure what spell it was.
"Close enough—it's dimensional communication magic, derived from summoning magic."
It wasn't hard to understand. Summoning magic essentially connects to other dimensions to sense and contract with targets.
Allen had simply skipped the sensing and contracting steps, focusing solely on enhancing the communication part.
What's more, the frequency to connect with the Underworld wasn't exactly a secret—it was part of any beginner necromancer's curriculum.
Ordinary mages, even if they knew the frequency coordinates of the Underworld, wouldn't dare connect carelessly. A single misstep could provoke a death god lord to strike across dimensions.
After all, the Underworld is the realm of the dead—how could the living disturb it so freely?
"Death God Lord, Goddess of Death, Fenrir's master… true name: Hela…"
Wanda glanced at the altered runes and immediately realized Allen wasn't lying. Still, she asked in disbelief, "She's your mother? Are you saying you're one of the gods of Asgard?"
This was a directional magic array—meant for direct communication with the Goddess of Death Hela, like dialing a phone number—unlike a summoning array, which is more random in nature.
Besides, there were countless death gods in the Underworld. Reaching out to an unknown and malevolent lord could easily invite a curse from across the veil.
Necromantic curses were notorious for being the most insidious and vicious kind.
And they might not even land on you directly, but take effect on your descendants, catching people off guard.
"What's so strange about that?"
Allen calmly pointed to Agatha and said, "She's my grandma."
Agatha gave a stiff smile, pointed at Allen, then tapped her own head—signaling that this guy was clearly nuts.
Wanda understood and stopped asking pointless questions.
Thinking back to their first meeting, when Allen had tried to pretend to be her brother Pietro…
At that moment, a water-like mirror surface rose into the air, rippling continuously as if establishing a connection.
"Moshi moshi, mama, are you home?"
Allen called out to the mirror, "It's me—your poor, helpless eldest son, stranded in the human world."
"Allen, stop calling me mama."
In the mirror, a regal and imposing female figure appeared—her surroundings a replica of the Asgardian royal palace.
"You're so heartless! I don't want you as my mama anymore."
Allen turned away in mock anger, pouting. "Beg me for forgiveness."
After so many decades apart, Hela was clearly happy to see an old friend again and couldn't resist teasing, "Get on your knees and beg me…"
Thud!
Before she could finish, Allen dropped to his knees without hesitation, still maintaining an air of pride. "Beg me," he said.
Cough cough…
When it came to shamelessness, even Hela couldn't guess Allen's limits. Truly, this guy had no shame.
"Get up first. Just tell me what you want," Hela said helplessly.
"You have to say, 'Please rise, my prince.'"
Allen looked up with his chin tilted, refusing to meet her eyes directly.
Hela's face darkened, and she exhaled through her nose heavily before saying, "Please rise, my prince."
"Much obliged!"
With a leap, Allen sprang to his feet and, without a hint of embarrassment, proudly showed off to the two women beside him, "I've got connections in the Underworld—that's my rebellious, disappointing mama."
Wanda and Agatha were too stunned to speak.
It was hard to imagine how Allen and Hela ever got acquainted, much less built a relationship strong enough to joke about being mother and son.
In fact, while it seemed like Allen was the one being mocked, there was a strange sense that Hela was the one losing face.
"Who are they?"
Hela looked at Wanda and Agatha with suspicion. It had been thirty or forty years since they last met, and now there was a new batch of women at Allen's side. She couldn't help but wonder—what is it about this lunatic that keeps attracting women? It made no sense.
"They're your daughters-in-law. I brought them to show you, Mama," Allen said smugly, flipping his hair.
The three women reacted in very different ways.
Hela looked disgusted, clearly thinking only a crazy person would throw themselves into that fire. She suspected Allen was full of it.
Wanda's face darkened, her eyes flashing with anger.
Agatha, on the other hand, blushed—feeling that, at her age, she should've been past this kind of embarrassment.
"Let's get to the point or I'm hanging up," Hela said, pretending she was about to cut the connection, forcing Allen to speak up.
"Tri-priest."
Allen shifted the mirror's view toward Quicksilver's corpse. His tone turned serious for the first time. "Help me find his soul in the Underworld—I want to bring him back."
"Him…"
Hela took a good look at Quicksilver's body, and her expression immediately grew odd. She glanced to the side.
She then shifted the mirror's view again.
Now the image showed an oily man working hard at a spit roast. A massive, cow-sized beast of unknown origin was slowly roasting over the coals.
A giant wolf squatting nearby drooled constantly onto the floor, clearly impatient to try the meal.
"Pietro!"
Wanda could no longer contain her emotions and cried out to the brother she hadn't seen in so long.
Quicksilver—Pietro—looked up from his work, confused as if he were hearing things. Could that really be Wanda's voice, even in the Underworld?
As the mirror came into full view, Pietro's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Wanda and Allen—two familiar faces.
"Wanda!"
Tears welled up in Pietro's eyes as sorrow overwhelmed him.
"Fast Boy, I can't believe you clung to my mama's leg."
Allen looked at him with disappointment and sighed, "We used to be roommates. I really thought you'd make something of yourself in the Underworld… Guess the greater the expectations, the greater the letdown."
"Allen!?"
Pietro stared blankly. "What's going on?"
When he died, his soul was drawn into Hela's domain by the Underworld's summons.
Luckily, Hela had a structured system for her realm—everything was orderly, unlike the other death god lords who thrived on killing.
Truthfully, during her time in Asgard, she had fought countless battles and grown tired of war. That's why she banned all forms of killing in her realm. If anyone had unresolved grudges, they'd be expelled to fight elsewhere.
Thanks to that policy, Pietro didn't become cannon fodder and had been wandering around the realm safely.
One day, the palace put out a job posting—for a chef to cook for Fenrir.
With Allen's recipes and his own years of cooking experience, Pietro landed the job and became the wolf's personal chef.
"It's nothing, bro-in-law."
Allen said with a slightly bashful tone, "Wanda and I are getting married. Just wanted to let you know so you can attend the wedding."
"What!?"
The joy on Pietro's face vanished in an instant, replaced by burning rage.
"You're marrying my sister!? How dare you—how could you? I don't approve of this wedding, not even in death!"
"C'mon… your sister's already pregnant. You don't want your nephew to be born fatherless like you, right?"
Pietro screamed in hysterical despair, "AAAAHHHHHH—!!!"