The journey was surprisingly smooth—too smooth, in fact. Bella noticed that every time she passed through an area, the lesser undead and wandering demons either floated high into the sky or retreated to the shadows. It was as if the entire region instinctively feared her presence.
Whether it was her rising reputation, or simply the raw pressure of her growing magical aura, she couldn't be sure. Either way, it worked in her favor.
Her goal was clear: investigate the fog-covered town of Barcelona and identify the cause of the expanding mist. That was priority number one.
Boom! Boom!
The roar of Bella's signature motorcycle echoed like thunder through the silent town. The engine's aggressive snarl sounded far too loud in the still, oppressive atmosphere, drawing echoes off the nearby cliffs.
She parked just outside the town's perimeter, her expression hardening as she took in the view. The path ahead narrowed, flanked on both sides by rugged hills. The town of Barcelona—now more a cursed island than a settlement—lay ahead, seemingly cut off from the world.
What drew her attention most was the blood-red barrier that surrounded the entire area. It pulsed ominously, an eerie shimmer of malevolent energy flowing across its surface.
Her instincts screamed at her not to touch it.
"That's a high-level containment spell," she murmured, narrowing her eyes. "Definitely not something to mess with. I could brute-force it with full magical output, but then I'd be drained. That would leave me wide open."
She had already experienced the backlash of magic depletion once, and it wasn't something she cared to repeat. While her body's physical strength alone could rival ten thousand tons, against undead who ignored physical force altogether, she'd be hopelessly disadvantaged.
A scenario where she was cornered by hordes of undead, drained and unable to fight back, was one she wouldn't allow to become reality.
Still, she wasn't here to destroy the barrier—at least, not yet. Her objective was to slow the spread of the fog and weaken the source. So far, she had accomplished both.
The mist, she had observed, grew by feeding on the undead. The more they multiplied, the thicker and faster the fog expanded. But her rampage through the hordes had severely disrupted that cycle. Hundreds of undead had fallen, and though the fog still lingered, its aggressive expansion had clearly weakened.
Now, she would wait. No recklessness. Only precision.
With that thought, Bella drew her twin pistols from the saddle holsters on her bike.
"Let's have some fun, shall we?" she whispered with a smile. "Happy time has begun."
Forty minutes later, a S.H.I.E.L.D. transport aircraft roared through the sky and landed just outside the containment zone. Reinforcements had finally arrived.
Inside the aircraft were some of Earth's finest defenders—superheroes, elite agents, and specialized demon hunters. Each of them was here on a mission: to push back the fog, support Bella, and uncover whatever unholy force had taken hold of Barcelona.
They weren't empty-handed. In the cargo hold were newly developed weapons imbued with holy light—an experimental line of equipment designed specifically to combat undead and demonic forces.
As the cargo bay opened, the team wasted no time in suiting up. The armored trucks they would be using were crafted with layered composite materials and infused with defensive holy magic. Inside, they could withstand the constant mental assaults and environmental corruption of the fog—at least for a while.
The tension was high. No one knew exactly what they were driving into.
Tony Stark, for one, was still unconscious after barely surviving his earlier encounter in the mist. He'd lasted just a few minutes before collapsing. Bella had stayed in the same mist for over forty minutes, and no one had seen or heard from her since.
That fact alone weighed heavily on every heart present.
Frank Castle—the Punisher—took the wheel of the lead armored vehicle. It was his custom build, originally designed for warzones and later upgraded by Stark with an offline J.A.R.V.I.S interface. Even without a connection to the network, it retained its AI-powered functionality, tracking threats and operating weapons with deadly precision.
No one said much. They didn't have to. Instead, they focused on loading weapons and mentally preparing themselves. Everyone had the same thought—if Bella was still in there fighting, then they had to move quickly.
Bang.
The vehicle crossed the threshold into the fog.
Immediately, the world shifted.
Outside, it had been night. Inside the mist, it was neither day nor night—just a heavy gray void, like a perpetual thunderstorm sky with no light source. The atmosphere became frigid, their breaths instantly frosting on the inside of their visors.
Then came the whispers—low, hissing sounds crawling into their ears. The mental shock of the fog had begun. It was subtle at first, just barely noticeable, but it was persistent and corrosive.
Fortunately, the holy light blockers in their suits muffled most of it. Each one of them was no ordinary soldier; they were hardened warriors, many of whom had already stared into the abyss before. Whether it was agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., battle-tested superheroes, or demon hunters trained in the occult, none of them were easily shaken.
Still, through the windows of the armored truck, they could see them.
Ghostly figures floated in the air—souls twisted into nightmare forms, their eyes radiating malice and pain. Their presence chilled the blood, and their silence was worse than any scream.
Jessica Jones broke the silence with a scoff.
"A bunch of goddamn trash," she muttered.
That seemed to lighten the mood.
"You mean the kind of garbage even Satan kicks out of hell?" someone replied with a chuckle.
"Hell yeah. If I had to listen to them whisper nonsense all day, I'd be tossing heads too."
Laughter filled the carriage.
It was dark humor, yes—but it helped. It reminded them they were still human. Still in control.
As the convoy rolled forward, however, something felt… off.
Blade, gripping his modified shotgun, was the first to notice. He looked out the window and narrowed his eyes.
"Anyone else wondering why we're not seeing many hostiles?"
There was a moment of silence.
"Yeah," Jessica said. "Stark said he was swarmed just minutes after going in."
"Could they be hiding?" asked another.
"Doubt it," Barton said from the front vehicle, binoculars raised. "Seventy degrees to the left—look."
The group turned.
There, in the distance, were the craters. Shattered roads. Burned corpses of grotesque demons, their forms twisted in death, black and purple blood leaking from open wounds.
It didn't take a genius to guess what had happened.
"Bella…" someone whispered.
"She cleared them out. All of them."
A wave of awe passed through the group.
"She stayed in this hell for forty minutes, and she wasn't just hiding. She was fighting. Killing everything."
"And here we were worried she might need backup," Jessica muttered, shaking her head.
The weight of what they were witnessing hit them fully now.
Bella—known to some as the Goddess of Judgment—had survived alone in this cursed zone for nearly an hour and left a trail of devastation in her wake. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of undead and demons wiped out. The fog's expansion halted. The tides of darkness pushed back by a single person.
It was beyond belief.
Boom!
Suddenly, the sky in the distance split with a blinding white light.
All heads turned. From the fog ahead, a radiant pillar of energy shot into the air, piercing the gloom like a divine blade. The shockwave rocked the vehicle, and a low humming filled the air, the kind of sound that made your bones vibrate.
"Eyes up!" Punisher yelled. "That's either her... or something big."
The convoy increased speed.
Whatever was happening ahead, they were now officially in it.
And judgment had already begun.
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