The battle raged across the barren, cracked earth of the Wasteland.
"An alien invasion. A symbiote god. And now we're fighting literal demons!"
Hank Pym hated this. He hated the noise, the gore, and the endless cycle of blunt-force trauma. As a scientist and a pacifist, he despised the idea that the universe was so heavily populated by beings who only communicated through mass violence. They never wanted to talk until you punched them hard enough to make them listen.
He grew to his sixty-foot Giant-Man height, sweeping a massive arm to knock a dozen demons out of the sky like flies.
"I'm exhausted, Janet," Hank broadcasted over the comms. "Half the time, I just want to quit the Avengers. Lock myself in the lab and actually build something that helps people instead of hitting them."
Janet van Dyne darted past his ear, a blur of black and gold. She fired a rapid staccato of bio-electric stings, blasting holes through a demonic Iceman variant. "Are you kidding, Hank? We're protecting the whole multiverse right now! This is what we do!"
Hank let out a long, heavy sigh. He crushed a demon beneath his boot. Maybe one day the world would have enough heroes. Maybe then he wouldn't need to wear the suit. He wouldn't even need to finish his Ultron peace-keeping project. He just kept fighting.
Across the dirt, 616-Logan gutted a Limbo demon, only to hear the heavy, metallic thud of a demonic Colossus dropping in right behind him. Before Logan could turn, three adamantium claws burst through the metal demon's chest from behind.
The demon slumped. Old Man Logan stood over the body, ripping his claws free.
616-Logan stared at the grizzled, white-haired variant. He had never expected to see himself get old. Or rather, he had never expected his healing factor to let him age like that.
"So," 616-Logan grunted. "You're from the future."
"It's best you don't ask any questions, kid," Old Man Logan rumbled.
616-Logan didn't push it. He just nodded, his eyes tracking the chaos. A few yards away, Laura—wearing her black-and-grey Wolverine suit—was carving a bloody path through the horde right alongside a roaring 616-Hulk. She was an absolute blur of feral, hyper-violent motion, completely lost in the slaughter.
"Is she always like this?" 616-Logan asked.
"Hard to say," Old Man Logan muttered, watching her sever a demon's head. "Your Spider-Man pulled her out of a universe where Wade slaughtered everyone on the planet. She's a lot younger here than my Laura was when..." He trailed off, his jaw tightening. "Just let her work."
Not too far away, Piotr Rasputin stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his little sister.
Colossus was still reeling. Just minutes ago, Illyana had transformed into a towering, horned demon right in front of him. Now she was back in her human skin, but she wasn't the innocent child he remembered. She had aged years in the span of an afternoon. Currently, she was gripping a heavy broadsword enchanted with basic black magic, slicing demons in half with cold, mechanical efficiency.
"Watch your left, little snowflake!" Colossus roared. He swung a steel fist, shattering the jaw of a demon trying to flank her.
Illyana didn't even flinch. She nearly clipped his arm with her backswing. "I can handle this, Piotr! Stop hovering!"
"You don't have an active mutation right now, Illyana! You're just a kid with a sword!"
Illyana pivoted, her face completely deadpan. She drove her blade cleanly through the chest of a demonic Colossus variant, twisting the hilt to snap its metallic spine.
"I've been fighting these bastards for three years, okay?" Illyana snapped, kicking the body off her blade. "I know how to kill these monsters better than you do, brother!"
Piotr blinked, thoroughly distressed. My little sister is swearing. Frustrated, he grabbed a demonic Wolverine by the throat and smashed its head against a boulder.
Overhead, Storm blasted a cluster of gargoyles with chain lightning. She was pulling double duty, maintaining a defensive perimeter around the New Mutants and Hellions while actively suppressing the horde. She did a quick headcount of the younger kids.
Someone was missing.
Kitty Pryde was already gone.
While the heavy hitters kept the horde occupied, Shadowcat remembered Stephen Strange's tactical briefing. Belasco didn't care about the army. He only cared about the Bloodstone Amulet resting on his chest. It was the key to bringing an Elder God into reality. If they took the amulet, Belasco's entire multiversal invasion fell apart.
Kitty sprinted through the chaos, phasing her molecules through stray energy blasts, flying debris, and demonic claws. She locked her eyes on Belasco. The demon lord was currently locked in a brutal magical duel with Thor, who was furiously juggling his three Mjolnirs.
Kitty slid right through a wall of hellfire. She reached her hand out, aiming straight for the heavy amulet hanging from Belasco's neck.
Her shoulder jerked. She stumbled, her boots scraping the dirt.
Kitty spun around. Someone had just physically shoved her. While she was phased. She stared at the culprit. It was the feral, physically mutated Limbo variant of Shadowcat. The ugly, feline survivor Peter had dragged out of the timeline. The variant had matched her phasing frequency perfectly just to bump her out of the way.
Before Kitty could ask why, the Limbo variant lunged.
Belasco didn't even notice the phased approach. He was too busy deflecting a hammer strike from Thor. The Limbo Shadowcat phased her hand directly through Belasco's ribcage, materialized her fingers just enough to snag the chain, and violently ripped the Bloodstone Amulet from his chest.
Belasco froze. He looked down.
Then, the Lord of Limbo finally stopped playing games.
A tidal wave of boundless, apocalyptic hellfire erupted from his body. It didn't just burn; it consumed the very air, painting the Wasteland in blinding, roaring crimson.
"Shield of the Seraphim!" Strange shouted, throwing his hands up to cast a golden, multi-layered barrier over the closest heroes. Thor spun his remaining Mjolnirs at blinding speed, creating a localized hurricane to deflect the flames.
The heat was agonizing. When the roaring hellfire finally dissipated, the ground around Belasco was reduced to smooth, glowing glass.
Kitty dropped to her knees. The Limbo Shadowcat was gone. All that remained of the feral variant was a charred, smoking husk of bone. Beside the corpse lay the shattered, molten fragments of the Deadpool-universe Mjolnir. The magic of the hammer had been entirely overridden and crushed by raw demonic fury.
"Foolish mortals!" Belasco's voice vibrated with genuine, terrifying power. "Did you truly believe your parlor tricks could outmaneuver me?!"
He casually stepped over the broken Asgardian metal, reaching down to pick up the dropped Bloodstone Amulet.
A shower of golden sparks hissed in the air right above his hand.
A Sling Ring portal snapped open. A towering, 1.9-meter-tall crimson demon dropped directly in front of him. Illyana. The Darkchylde had returned. She swung a heavy broadsword directly at Belasco's neck.
Belasco barely flinched. The steel blade instantly melted into glowing slag the second it touched his skin.
But it was a distraction. While Belasco watched the sword melt, Illyana's spiked, prehensile tail whipped out. It hooked the amulet right off the glass floor. She snatched it out of the air with her clawed hand.
Belasco straightened up. He didn't look angry anymore. He just looked amused. "You really don't know when to quit, Illyana."
He gestured to the amulet in her claws. "You've already surrendered half your soul to the dark. You can't use those Bloodstones unless you tear your soul in half again to cast the spell. And you don't even know how."
"You're right," Illyana growled, her demonic voice echoing off the scorched earth. "I haven't learned much magic, Belasco."
She dropped the melted blade. She kept her grip tight on the ruined hilt.
"But I can do this!"
She didn't cast a spell. She didn't draw on ambient energy. She closed her glowing eyes, reached deep into the darkest, most fractured part of her own soul, and pulled.
Blinding, pure-white energy erupted from the hilt. She forged her own life force, her trauma, and her raw magical potential into a massive, glowing blade of hard-light.
Belasco's eyes widened. He threw his head back and laughed.
"Well, my dear," Belasco chuckled, staring at the blazing weapon. "You really do love to surprise me."
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