As the last wisp of hellfire vanished into his wand, the pocket dimension created by the Earth Demon collapsed, reverting to the ordinary alley.
The space was slightly messy but bore no trace of the magical battle, confirming it had all unfolded in the Earth Demon's subspace.
Sebastian pulled out his sling ring, opened a portal, and stepped onto the rooftop of his apartment building. Before the fight, he'd tucked Alisha's desserts into a protective cloth bag, sparing them from the battle's chaos.
Without that precaution, explaining ruined treats to his mom would've been a headache.
The portal closed behind him as he stepped through.
Minutes later, a flaming motorcycle screeched to a halt at the alley's entrance.
The Ghost Rider, ignoring the stares of passersby, dismounted and strode into the alley. He paused, sensing the faint magical residue, his skull tilting as if piecing together the fight.
After a long moment, he walked out, ignoring the police sirens approaching, and roared off into the night on his bike.
To ordinary people, the alley battle was invisible. But to those attuned to magic, it blazed like a lighthouse in the dark—especially Sebastian's use of hellfire, which he'd controlled, however shakily. That control hinted at a rare authority over Hell's power, a prize every mage coveted. In New York, mystics who understood "authority" turned their attention to the battle's magical echo.
Among them was the Ancient One, standing on the New York Sanctum's rooftop.
"Master Ancient One, what happened to Master Sebastian?" Daniel, the Sanctum's caretaker, asked, his voice tense.
"Not all mages can track a battle like Sebastian's across such distance," she replied, her tone calm yet warm, reflecting her growing respect for Sebastian. "He's safe now, Daniel. He defeated the Earth Demon and his minions alone."
Daniel's eyes widened—first in shock, then disbelief, and finally awe. He trusted the Ancient One's words completely, leaving no doubt about Sebastian's victory. "He did that on his own?"
She smiled faintly. "I underestimated Master Sebastian. I planned to intervene, but he handled the Earth Demon without our help. His strength is remarkable."
"Master Sebastian's the most gifted mage I've ever seen," Daniel said. "He's only seventeen, just past his birthday a few months ago, and he's this powerful."
"Indeed," the Ancient One agreed. "A seventeen-year-old mage, defeating a demon of Hell's elite, single-handedly. That strength proves he's worthy of the Contract of San Venganza."
"What's our next step, Master Ancient One?"
"Locate the Witch Heart Demon and end his threat for good. I'll reach out to Master Sebastian personally."
With that, the Ancient One turned, stepping through a portal from the Sanctum back to Kamar-Taj, her movements graceful yet purposeful.
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At home, Sebastian sat at his desk, his wand resting on a small stand. A tiny flame flickered in his left hand, cradling a fingernail-sized piece of silver.
The metal melted into a glowing liquid, guided by his magic into a thin silver thread. Carefully, he wove it into the wand's faint crack, repairing the damage.
His wand's material was subpar, barely adequate when crafted. Its light-aligned nature clashed with dark spells like Fiendfyre, especially when it summoned hellfire.
The spell's power had strained the wand, causing a nearly invisible but real crack.
With no spare wand, Sebastian had to fix this one.
From now on, using dark magic—or even neutral spells leaning dark, like Sectumsempra—would worsen the damage. Casting Fiendfyre again might shatter the wand entirely.
Once the silver thread filled the crack, Sebastian shaped the leftover liquid into a reinforcing ring around the wand's damaged section.
He etched ancient runes onto it, sealing the repair. As long as he stuck to light or neutral magic, the wand would hold—for now.
A new wand was a priority. Sebastian could cast many spells without one, especially Kamar-Taj's magic, but a wand was like Thor's hammer or Captain America's shield: it amplified his power.
His strongest spells, rooted in his past life's magic, needed a wand to shine. A seventeen-year-old facing demons head-on owed much to that boost.
He decided to ask the Ancient One for help after this ordeal—maybe to hunt a dragon for wand materials. With her aid, any dragon outside Kunlun's sacred grounds should be manageable.
A Kunlun dragon's heartstring would make an unbeatable wand, but their power rivaled the Ancient One's, guarding the Iron Fist's legacy. That was a daydream, not a plan—for now.
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Alisha, savoring her favorite dessert, looked both delighted and frustrated. "Sebastian, how do they make this? I've tried, but I can't figure it out!"
Sebastian grinned. "Even you can't master every recipe, Mom. Isn't it fun to love something you can't recreate? Keeps it special."
Alisha playfully flicked his forehead. "That's my son—always making sense with a twist."
Chuckling, Sebastian rubbed his forehead and moved to wash their plates. But a sudden, searing sensation flared within him, like a call pulling him elsewhere. His brow furrowed briefly before he masked it with a casual smile. "Mom, I just remembered—I need to swing by Sean's to return something. I'll be back soon."
"This late?" Alisha asked, concerned.
"No worries. I'm tall, tough, and Sean's place is close. Plus, our neighborhood's one of the safest in New York."
"Fine, but be careful. Call me or the police if anything happens."
Sebastian ducked into his room, slipped on his coat, and tucked his repaired wand into his waistband. "Mom, I'm just dropping something off. I'll be fine," he said, half-laughing at her worry.
"Just keep it in mind," Alisha insisted.
"Got it, got it."
He slipped on his shoes and left the apartment, his smile fading as he stepped outside. Across the street, Johnny Blaze sat on his motorcycle, watching. Without hesitation, Sebastian walked away from the building, heading toward a quieter area.
In a small, abandoned park, he sat on a swing and faced Johnny, who'd followed. "Alright, Johnny, what's this about?"
"I know you won't just hand over the Contract of San Venganza, so I'm not asking," Johnny said. "But it's not me who wants to talk—it's…"
Before he finished, flames erupted around Johnny, transforming him into the Ghost Rider in a blaze of hellfire. His control over the Spirit of Vengeance had clearly improved—no more slow, painful shifts.
"It's me who wants to talk," the Ghost Rider growled.
Oddly, Sebastian didn't feel threatened by the hellfire cloaking the Rider. Instead, it felt… familiar. He smirked. "What, you got a split personality or something?"
The Ghost Rider paused, thrown off by the quip, then pressed on. "Give me the Contract of San Venganza!"
"Why? So you can hand it to the Witch Heart Demon, beg for mercy, and be his lapdog? Too bad the Earth Demon and Air Demon are toast already"
"Mage, enough with the smart talk!" the Rider snapped. "I need the Contract of San Venganza to get close to the Witch Heart Demon and take him down!"
"I've got a better idea. Wanna hear it?"