Back at the countryside safehouse, Tony Stark let out a quiet sigh and gave a nonchalant shrug, saying nothing.
But deep inside, a strange feeling lingered—an unspoken thought shared quietly among the Avengers.
In moments of true crisis, they always seemed to think of her.
That cold, distant girl.
The Goddess of Judgment.
No one said it aloud, but her presence brought reassurance. A symbol of raw strength and untouchable resolve. With her around, the odds always felt a little better.
Tony and the others were no strangers to sacrifice—they had all stood on the edge of death before. But let's be honest—if you could avoid dying while still saving the world, wouldn't you take that route?
"Alright," Tony finally said, his voice steady. "Stick to the plan. Everyone get moving."
---
Outside, rain fell gently over Weybridge, turning the small British town's cobbled roads into slick, muddy paths. A low thunder growled overhead.
CRACK!
A lightning bolt split the sky just as the windows of a nearby building exploded outward, glass scattering like crystal shrapnel. Figures were hurled through the air like ragdolls, crashing into the lawn below.
And then—they began to burn.
Their bodies lit up in bursts of blue flame, turning to ash within seconds, the last traces of their forms dissolving in the rain.
Thor landed with a crash atop the ten-meter-high building, Mjolnir spinning in his grip.
His eyes glowed with lightning.
"The first nest is cleared," Thor growled. "No sign of Mephisto yet."
From the comms, Steve Rogers' voice cut through the static: "Thor, get to Swain Street. Natasha needs backup."
Before he could respond, a roar thundered in the background—a familiar, chaotic one.
"HULK, no! Don't smash the building—just move!"
"HULK... SMASH!"
Thor grinned and rocketed back into the storm, Mjolnir guiding his flight.
Above them, drones scanned the town, mapping the chaos in real time. The town of Weybridge was no longer a quiet retreat—it was a warzone. The screen lit up with red markers.
Each red dot was an enemy.
"That bastard turned the entire town," muttered Wong, watching from a control center. "He converted nearly all the residents."
Tens of thousands of people lived in this town. Now, tens of thousands of Blood Clan thralls roamed the streets.
Whether the Avengers had arrived or not, the town was already doomed.
The higher-ups in the UK government would never allow this infestation to spread beyond its borders. A purge was inevitable.
---
While battles raged across town, Sanjid stood alone beside a lake at the edge of the settlement.
Rain whispered on the water's surface, ripples spreading with every drop. Nearby, dry grass rustled. The occasional flutter of distant wings only deepened the eerie stillness.
The lake was beautiful under the moonlight, but Sanjid didn't admire it.
He gripped a silver cross-shaped sword tightly, his stance firm. His instincts screamed at him—something was here.
His sharp eyes scanned the shoreline, then narrowed on the water.
The lake was too still. Too perfect.
Suddenly—
SPLASH.
The surface split.
As if sliced by an invisible blade, the lake parted, and from the depths, a dark figure rose.
Pitch black from head to toe, the figure had no visible face—only two glowing blood-red eyes, like hellfire in the mist.
Its rotting skin clung loosely to its bones, and despite the rain, a stench of decay filled the air.
Sanjid's eyes widened. He recognized the twisted features hidden beneath the rot.
"Wesley…"
Or rather—what was left of him.
The demonic creature floated a few inches above the water, a corpse puppet guided by something deeper, older, darker.
Mephisto had arrived.
"Thanks to you, child," the creature rasped, "this vessel was fatally wounded. Even with stolen souls, he can't hold me together for long. The ritual is incomplete."
Mephisto raised his withered arm, examining the necrotic skin. His face twisted into a grotesque smile.
"But lucky for me… you came."
Sanjid's grip tightened around the hilt of his sword.
He tapped his comm. "Thor—Mephisto is at the lake. Repeat, I found Mephisto."
No response.
His face darkened. No signal.
"Clever bastard."
His mind raced. The area had been sealed with some kind of magical barrier. He was alone. Completely cut off.
And then the voice came again.
"Yes," Mephisto hissed, "this is a trap. One I built just for you. Your body and soul… remind me of her. Not as powerful, no. But rare enough."
He chuckled, the sound like metal scraping bone.
"Your friends are busy fighting those rabid Blood Clan. You're isolated. And even if that woman sensed this place, my enchantment would block her."
He stepped closer. "She can't save you."
Sanjid's heart pounded, but he didn't move.
"Your mentor, your so-called 'king,'" Mephisto spat, "she sent you here. To die. Doesn't that make you wonder?"
His voice slithered like a serpent, tempting, probing.
"Why not surrender? Give me your soul. I'll grant you eternal life, unshakable power. Together, we'll crush her. You'll humiliate her, break her… punish her."
The offer dripped with darkness.
But Mephisto underestimated Sanjid's will.
He didn't flinch. His shoulders were tense, but not in fear—in resolve.
"I serve my king," he said coldly. "Your filth won't sway me."
A brilliant blue light erupted from Sanjid's eyes, cutting through the gloom. A holy aura burst from his body, burning away the fear, the lies, and the corruption trying to dig into his mind.
BOOM!
The lake trembled.
The wind roared.
Sanjid moved.
In the blink of an eye, he crossed the surface of the lake, his figure tearing through rain and darkness.
Water exploded behind him, parting like curtains as he charged.
The silver cross sword glowed with brilliant blue light, etched with holy runes. Moonlight struck the blade, and for a heartbeat, the scene looked like something from legend—a lone knight charging at a demon.
One wielded faith.
The other, corruption.
CLASH!
Sanjid's blade collided with Mephisto's rotting hand. A shockwave rippled outward, flattening the grass, blasting water in every direction.
The lake screamed under the impact, waves soaring and slamming into the muddy banks.
Blue light versus abyssal black.
Faith versus despair.
---
End of Chapter 153
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