Broly blinked in surprise.
The next instant he felt danger rushing up behind him and sprang aside.
A heavy fist ripped past, trailing wind-pressure strong enough to split stone.
When he saw the "sneak-attacker's" face, little Broly froze—and nearly ate the second punch.
The assailant could have been his twin; at a glance they were indistinguishable.
"Heh-heh-heh…"
Dracula laughed wildly.
"…I never wanted to use a spell this strong; you forced my hand."
He had just woven a perfect duplicate of Broly, equal in every power.
It was a forbidding art from the Darkhold, one of Dracula's ace weapons.
Until now he had feared to use it.
Every spell he knew ultimately borrowed strength from Chthon, god of black magic, lord of the underworld, master of dimensions.
What is borrowed must be repaid—especially when the lender is a demon-god.
Each casting cost him dearly.
Worse, every spell was sure to draw the attention of the Sorcerer Supreme, Ancient One.
If the working bore Chthon's taint, a circle of sparks would open and the bald woman would step through to his doorstep.
He still remembered being trapped in a time-loop, lashed by her whip for a full year; the memory kept his magic sealed.
Only desperation had driven him to risk another thrashing from Sorcerer Ancient One.
He was incensed.
Heaven knew he had come to North America with no mischief in mind.
Rumour spoke of a day-walking, silver-proof, garlic-immune dhampir called Blade who hunted Vampires.
As progenitor of the line, Dracula wished merely to observe this curious offspring.
Yet he had barely landed in New York, first meal untouched, when a child beat him senseless.
A child.
"Wretched brat, you're dead!" Dracula snarled, then turned on Koz. "You as well!"
"Why?" Li Pu demanded of the bald woman, tone sharp. "Why yank me here?"
The moment Broly began pounding Dracula, he and Koz had dropped out of their strange invisibility.
Their Auras flared anew.
Li Pu had locked on to his sons and raced over at top speed.
A sparking portal opened in mid-air just as he arrived.
Going too fast to stop, he plunged through.
He landed on a snow-capped Himalayan peak facing a thin-robed, bald woman.
He knew her at once.
The actress's unique presence in the films had left a deep mark on him.
But he had just located his boys—only for Sorcerer Ancient One to drag him from Manhattan to the Himalayas; the move stoked his temper.
Ancient One clasped her hands behind her back.
"Greetings, outlander with two sons. I am this Earth's Guardian, Sorcerer Supreme Gu Yi."
She laid bare his identity and introduced herself.
"Fear no harm from me. If you pose no threat to Earth or Universe, we need never meet again."
Li Pu, now awakened to psionic senses, felt the truth in her words.
She showed none of the native's usual hostility toward outsiders like him, Koz and Broly.
"Travelers slipping from one parallel World to another are common across the multiverse. I have visited many selves, and in every Universe I am Sorcerer Supreme. From your tone, you knew my counterpart in your World, so you know my charge: protect Earth and Universe from dire sorcery and supernatural ruin."
Li Pu realised she mistook him for a migrant from some parallel Marvel Universe.
He let the misbelief stand.
"So I nearly destroyed the World? I only wanted my two little sons—how does that become apocalyptic?"
As he spoke he stepped closer, Aura rising with every stride.
Ancient One remained unmoved, meeting his gaze.
"Stubborn indeed," she murmured, eyes seeming to glance down time itself.
"For such nature, proof beats persuasion—your people say one turns back only after hitting the southern wall. Yet heed this: you were about to slay one you cannot kill. I have seen nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine futures; your repeated attempts end in universal ruin. I will give you one test, then return you here with the Eye of Agamotto. After that—"
Before she finished, Li Pu shot skyward.
His senses had stayed locked on New York; he had just felt little Broly's ki falter.
Broly was hurt.
A father fearing for his son has no time for lectures, Sorcerer Supreme or not.
He streaked north over the pole, the shortest line from Himalaya to New York, fast enough to graze the edge of space.
Ancient One stared after him, startled he had simply flown off—and so quickly.
Without a portal she had no spell swift enough to overtake him in atmosphere.
"You could have asked for a portal; it would have been faster."