Bab 11: Chapter 10 Heart of All existence
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Tony Stark sat at a workbench, the soft blue glow of holograms casting his face in an ethereal light. His fingers moved over the displays, but without their usual frenetic energy. He was rebuilding his armor, piece by virtual piece, but each component felt heavier now, weighed down by the knowledge of their cosmic insignificance.
"FRIDAY," he murmured, his voice lacking its customary bravado, "run another diagnostic on the suit's energy signature. If we're going up against multiverse-level threats, I need to know we can at least register on their radar."
"On it, boss," the AI replied, her tone softer, almost sympathetic. "But I have to warn you, after what we saw... it's like trying to fight the ocean with a water pistol."
Tony's hands stilled. He glanced across the room to where Lucifer reclined in an antique chaise longue, idly flipping through a 15th-century grimoire as if it were a mildly interesting magazine. The fallen angel's presence was a silent reminder of the power that now walked among them, a power that made their greatest triumphs seem like children's games.
Across the room, Steve Rogers sat on the edge of a sturdy oak table, his shield propped against his leg. The vibranium disc, a symbol of unwavering heroism, now seemed a quaint trinket in the face of cosmic forces. He watched Tony work, his brow furrowed with a concern that went beyond their current crisis.
"Tony," he said softly, moving to join his fellow Avenger, "maybe we need to take a step back. We've been running on adrenaline and shock since... since we saw what we saw. But charging headlong into this, with our minds still reeling? That's a good way to get ourselves killed."
Tony let out a bitter chuckle. "As opposed to what, Cap? Sitting on our hands while reality itself unravels? You heard Strange. These 'incursions' are getting worse. Next one could turn New York into a cosmic blender."
"I'm not saying we do nothing," Steve countered, his voice firm but empathetic. "I'm saying we need to understand what we're dealing with. Really understand, not just react. We've faced gods before, but this... this is different."
Their hushed conversation was interrupted by the soft rustling of pages. Lucifer had set aside his book and was regarding them with eyes that had witnessed the birth and death of galaxies. "My, my," he drawled, his voice a silken purr that nonetheless sent a chill down their spines, "it seems the good Captain has a grasp of strategy after all. Bravo."
Steve turned to face the Devil, his jaw set. The terror of their first encounter had ebbed, replaced by a wary respect tinged with resentment. "You've made your point about our... limitations, Lucifer. But if we're in this fight together, we need more than just displays of power. We need understanding."
Lucifer's eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "Understanding? Oh, my dear mortal, you ask for the moon. The intricacies of cosmic warfare, the labyrinthine politics of the infernal realms - these are concepts that would turn your quaint little minds into pudding."
"Try us," Natasha interjected. She had been silent until now, perched in the shadows like the spy she was. But now she stepped forward, her green eyes boring into Lucifer's. "You need us, Devil. Not just as shields or distractions, but as allies. And allies don't work in the dark."
The room fell silent, the only sound the soft crackle of mystical energies and the distant hum of the awakening city. Lucifer held Natasha's gaze, and for a moment, there was a flicker of... something in those ageless eyes. Not respect, not quite, but perhaps a glimmer of intrigue.
"Very well," he sighed, as if indulging a child's whim. "A primer on the cosmic chessboard, then. But do try to keep up. I'd hate for your brains to start leaking from your ears mid-explanation."
He rose with fluid grace, pacing the room. The Avengers watched, transfixed, as he began to weave a tale that spanned eons and realities.
"In the beginning," Lucifer started, his voice taking on the resonance of ancient legend, "there was not one universe, but many. A multiverse, an infinite tapestry of realities, each thread a world with its own laws, its own gods, its own Hells. And in many of these Hells, in many of these realities, there was a being known as Mephisto."
He paused, and the room seemed to darken, the shadows lengthening as if in fear of the name. "Mephisto is not just a demon, not just a devil. He is an idea given form, the embodiment of corruption, of the rot that seeps into the cracks of every reality. In some worlds, he's a trickster. In others, a cosmic horror. But in all, he is patient, and he is hungry."
"Hungry for what?" Bruce Banner asked. He had been silent until now, the Hulk a restless presence just beneath his skin, stirring at the talk of cosmic forces.
"Everything," Lucifer replied, his eyes momentarily flashing with that cold, cosmic fire. "Souls, power, realities - it's all the same to Mephisto. He doesn't just want to rule; he wants to consume, to become the singularity at the heart of all existence."
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