"Humans are inherently selfish," the devil's avatar began, its voice dripping with contempt. "In all the cosmos, I have never encountered a race more passionate about infighting and deceit than humanity. The Ancient One believes that if she lets humans develop freely, they will achieve great civilization. I can only say such thoughts are overly naive. As it has always been—just as Camelot fell due to its internal strife—so too will humanity destroy itself from within. The only difference is that, when stretched across the timescale of an entire species, this self-destruction appears slow. Earth has always been fortunate, blessed with the Sorcerer Supreme's protection. But this safeguard has only stunted humanity, keeping it from truly understanding what real threats are. Even as technology advances, their souls remain infantile."
Gunshots rang out behind Solomon, louder even than the alarms blaring from the airborne bus. Yet Solomon did not turn around. His eyes stayed fixed on the devil's avatar in front of him, which continued to speak with unbridled arrogance.
He would never turn his back on an enemy.
"In truth, they sought me out first," the devil continued, raising a knowing eyebrow. "Though it was only a small group, I was impressed. Mere mortals, yet they managed to piece together enough fragments of myth to find a way to contact me. Perhaps, from the day I guided Faust through hell, I have been waiting for such an occurrence. Still, I did not expect it to happen so quickly. The decisiveness with which humans betray their own kind truly astounds me." The old devil smirked. "Of course, you and I call such acts by different names. You might recoil at such behavior, labeling it treachery or sin. But everything that comes into existence must inevitably be destroyed—societies, species, even entire worlds. You call this destruction, this inevitability, evil. But for me, this is my very nature: the end of all things, the natural conclusion of all existence."
Solomon made a subtle gesture, summoning a gentle breeze that pushed the mist behind him forward. The shifting fog obscured both him and the artificial human. Taking advantage of the cover, the artificial human turned and darted into the bus, while Solomon stayed behind to hold the devil's attention. The artificial human's task was to protect the boy. But if the devil's servants managed to capture him, her job was to either retrieve him—or ensure his death. Should the boy be taken, Solomon knew his only option would be to kill the devil's avatar on the spot. But he wasn't confident in his ability to do so, as the devil's mastery of magic far surpassed his own.
The devil, apparently satisfied, nodded approvingly. "Nick Fury," he said, raising his voice, "I'd advise against firing any more shots. My servants have already taken control of your little plane. Oh, but you are an interesting one, aren't you? You dream of greatness and are willing to dirty your hands to achieve it. You fight in the name of justice, yet you commit countless atrocities. You understand morality, but neither regret your sins nor rejoice in your virtues. You are a walking contradiction, and I look forward to seeing how you fare in hell."
"I know I won't be going to heaven," Nick Fury said as he stepped out from his cover, his pistol still in hand. He cast a quick glance at the bus, from which occasional gunfire and screams could still be heard. Thanks to his vantage point, he could track the artificial human's movements. Hoping to maintain the illusion, he deliberately said something provocative. "But you've miscalculated, Lord of Lies. You're not as clever as you think. The strike team on that plane consists of battle-hardened agents, each one loyal to me. I don't know who your servants are, but I trust my people far more than your lackeys. And don't forget—Johnny Blaze, the Ghost Rider, is still on the plane. You won't accomplish anything."
"They lack resolve," the devil's avatar replied with a dismissive shake of his head. "They aren't willing to sacrifice others, Fury. They are not like you. As for Johnny Blaze, I know him better than anyone. His heart is weak—that's why I chose him to be the Ghost Rider. Even if he transforms now, as long as my servants take the boy, your agents and your Ghost Rider will yield."
Suddenly, two figures descended from the sky, landing heavily beside Solomon. Nick Fury instinctively stepped back, increasing the distance between himself and the witches. He wasn't sure if Bayonetta or Jeanne had noticed his earlier surveillance, but now was not the time to test their temper.
"The demons bound to the witches have already been distracted by Lilith," the devil's avatar said, smiling as he raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. "The witches can't summon them now. I might even consider surrendering myself, but I sincerely suggest you think over my offer."
The avatar's smug confidence evaporated the moment several severed heads were tossed out of the mist by the artificial human. His expression darkened immediately. Among the grisly trophies were tattooed monks and masked strike team members, their helmets still on. Fury observed the scene in silence, clearly deep in thought. The artificial human's unrelenting ferocity had exposed the devil's greatest weakness: she would attack anyone who threatened her mission, regardless of whether they were servants of the devil or not. To her, there was no distinction—only slaughter.
"I made the same mistake as my true self," the devil's avatar muttered as his form began to dissipate, thinning like the evaporating mist. "The true Mephisto is too stingy with his avatars, and I, in turn, was too stingy with my servants. But the Winter Solstice hasn't arrived yet. We still have time to play this game. Don't bother trying to catch me. No one can—"
The avatar froze mid-sentence, its form suddenly locking in place. Its spellcasting had been interrupted—not by Solomon, nor by Kamar-Taj, nor by the witches. Strangely, the interruption seemed to have come from the avatar itself.
"Ah, even as an avatar, I am painfully self-aware," came a mocking voice from behind him, accompanied by a sinister chuckle. Magic began to coalesce behind the devil's avatar. "Of course, I am always the winner. I am always the winner."
A surge of dark red energy erupted behind the avatar as a massive crimson gate materialized, expanding rapidly. It bulldozed through shattered trees and licked at the remaining flames, soon towering as high as the coniferous forest. The moment the gate fully formed, it began to pull the frozen avatar toward it. Solomon caught a glimpse of utter shock on the avatar's face as it was absorbed into the gate. From within the portal came the eerie sound of laughter, and an enormous flood of crimson energy continued to pour into the gate, feeding its sinister glow.
Just as the hellish gate opened, orange-red sparks lit up around the airborne bus. Circular portals sprang to life, and Kamar-Taj sorcerers, led by Kaecilius, stepped out, each armed and prepared for battle. The sight of the sorcerers bolstered Solomon's spirits, which had been sinking ever since the gate appeared.
"The scent of the mortal world," Mephisto's true form murmured, his blood-red face lighting up with a perverse joy as he took a deep breath. "Ah, how many centuries has it been since I last breathed this fresh air? No matter how much I try to preserve the environment in hell, the air quality is always atrocious." He seemed utterly indifferent to the presence of the Kamar-Taj sorcerers. "The Ancient One is so biased," he continued. "She's this dimension's Sorcerer Supreme, yet she only cares about her precious little garden. Even if she stops me, what can she truly achieve? By choosing Earth over the other civilizations, she's already ensured I'll never lose."
"What do you want, Mephisto?" Kaecilius demanded, stepping protectively in front of Solomon. "You've already signed a contract with the Ancient One. Are you planning to break it?"
"Break it?" Mephisto feigned outrage, his expression a parody of insult. "How dare you impugn the honor of a devil! Everything I've done is within the bounds of that contract. The agreement only pertains to my avatars rebelling against me. Nowhere does it forbid mortals from willingly sacrificing themselves to summon my true form."
The devil gave a mocking bow and gestured toward the massive gate behind him, from which grotesque limbs began to emerge. It was clear to everyone present that countless creatures, eager to wreak havoc, awaited on the other side. "The Ancient One's restrictions on the actions of her sorcerers may have hampered my avatar's plans," Mephisto admitted, straightening up, "but two consecutive blood sacrifices were more than enough for me to bring some help from hell. And thanks to the contract, she can't intervene directly. This round goes to me, Solomon Damonet. My earlier offer still stands—think it over."
The summoning was beyond Solomon's power to halt. A 3rd-level Dimensional Anchor spell could only target creatures, and a 4th-level Wall of Good, limited to a 10-square-foot area, was laughably inadequate against the colossal gate. Only an 8th-level Dimensional Lock could stop this, but such a spell was beyond Solomon's ability to cast. The Mirror Dimension, too, could do nothing to swallow the gate.
With no other options, Solomon resolved to launch
a direct attack on Mephisto's true form, which showed no intention of fleeing.
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