Even this sudden shift from joy to despair also applied to Blackheart, the Demon Lord.
He could not understand why his carefully laid plans had failed so miserably.
As a lord of demons, he knew well that the infernal creatures invading the human world were terrifyingly strong compared to mortals. Yet, in Hell, such demons were nothing more than expendable foot soldiers at the very bottom.
A few were stronger than average, but the grand scene he had envisioned—the demon lords leading their armies to storm Earth, seize its resources, and carve out new domains—never came to pass.
And the angels? There was no sign of them at all. Heaven remained eerily silent.
Why?
Hadn't Hell and Heaven both coveted Earth and humanity since ancient times?
Hadn't they even gone to war over faith?
Now that the opportunity to descend had arrived, why were they hesitating, hiding, refusing to appear?
"Why is this happening?"
Blackheart staggered backward, disbelief written all over his pale face. Everything before him made a mockery of his intricate schemes—plans he once thought flawless. He looked like a jester in his own tragedy.
Still, he waited.
Even as the cracks between worlds spread wider and the demons poured forth, the human warriors—those crowned with starlight—blocked their advance. Song Ji's immense power held the infernal tide at bay.
He, too, seemed to be waiting for the grand battle Blackheart had hoped for.
But as time dragged on, only lesser demons—Trasks—appeared. And with every passing moment, Blackheart's heart sank deeper.
From behind him came Wanda's calm, unhurried voice.
"It seems your plan was misguided, Blackheart."
He turned sharply. His black pupils flared crimson, blazing with rage and unwillingness. "Why? Why did it turn out like this?"
His failure to understand gnawed at him. For a proud demon like him, the collapse of his plan was a humiliating blow.
Wanda stepped forward lightly, golden boots tapping crisply against the ground. Under the watchful eyes of Natasha Romanoff, Hulk, Professor X, and the others, she walked straight toward him. None of them interfered.
Her voice, soft yet commanding, rippled through the air.
"You thought that by forcing the Apocalypse to awaken, you could drag the Sanctuary into a three-way war. You planned to profit from the chaos… but—"
She stopped before him, her eyes cold as she continued,
"—you overlooked one thing."
"You never understood my God, nor the Sanctuary. Your narrow mind made you believe those demon lords and angels would dance to your tune."
"Did it ever occur to you that the reason they haven't descended… is because they don't dare to?"
The words struck him like thunder. Blackheart froze, disbelief twisting his handsome features.
"Don't… dare?"
He couldn't believe it. The demon lords and the angels—afraid? Of what?
Then he met Wanda's eyes—calm, sharp, and suffused with crushing pressure. Understanding dawned, cold and heavy.
"Yes…" he murmured bitterly. "Why would they dare?"
"The human world has the God-King himself—and you, his chosen guardians. You're a Gold Saint, stronger than most demon lords or angels."
"And within the Sanctuary… there are eleven others like you. Perhaps even more."
The stories spoke of the twelve Zodiac Gold Saints, but what Blackheart saw spreading across the globe were countless Saints—some clad only in Bronze or Silver Cloths, yet their presence carried an unfathomable depth.
Who could say how many among them were already at the level of Gold—or even higher, approaching that of a Saint King?
Only Wanda had appeared so far. But what of the God-King himself? The other eleven Gold Saints?
And what of the legions of Saints who had yet to show themselves?
Could it be that they were merely waiting—for the Demon Lords and Angels to take the bait, descend to Earth, and fall right into the Sanctuary's hands?
The realization made his heart sink like a stone.
No wonder Heaven and Hell had gone quiet. The unknown was the greatest terror of all.
Even with the gates to Hell pried open, neither side dared to move first. Each was waiting for the other to make a mistake.
If you won't act, neither will I.
So time wasted away, and Blackheart finally understood—his fatal flaw had been his own arrogance.
"A pity," Wanda sighed softly. "I had hoped they'd give us a bit of excitement… but they've only disappointed me."
Her tone carried a trace of regret.
Leon's will was her will. If Leon wished to wage war against Heaven and Hell, she would follow without hesitation—becoming the fiercest butcher to cut down angels and demons alike.
Ever since Ophelia and Kaecilius had pulled her and Pietro from the abyss of Hell—helping her avenge and heal—Wanda had known one thing:
She lived now only to think as Leon thought, to fight as he fought.
Hearing her regret, the corners of Blackheart's mouth twitched. What kind of war maniac is this woman? he thought bitterly. Always eager for battle.
From their brief encounter, he understood—this beautiful woman before him was a true warrior, one who did not fear war but embraced it.
He coughed lightly, masking his unease. "So… are you going to kill me?"
Even as he spoke, his mind raced. As a demon lord, he knew he was no match for her—but surely, there must be some way to escape…
Uncertain but desperate, he decided he had to try. Waiting meekly for death was not in his nature.
"If you want to try escaping," Wanda said with a faint smile, "you're welcome to try."
But Blackheart instantly saw through her—she was toying with him. Her eyes gleamed with amusement.
What a terrible, dangerous woman.
End of Chapter)
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