The Wizard: Ascending Beyond Marvel

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Carter lowered his head slightly, pressing the brim of his hat down as he sighed softly. His expression remained calm, though the weight of the situation was evident in his eyes—firm, steady, reliable.

"Kazakhstan… Kazakh… Kazakhstan… sin… evil… get… to… judge…"

Johnny muttered the fragmented words under his breath, his voice carrying an eerie weight. His slightly dazed eyes drifted, unfocused, before locking onto Wes.

A strange chill ran down Wes's spine, and he instinctively averted his gaze, frowning in irritation. His voice came out sharper than he intended.

"Bastard, don't look at me like that!"

Carter smirked, the corners of his mouth lifting as he cast a knowing glance toward Wes. His voice dripped with mockery.

"It seems that Mr. Wizard isn't such a good person after all."

"Yes… the wizards are cruel…"

Wes froze. His breath hitched.

That voice—

There were only three of them in the room. So where had the fourth voice come from?

A cold, creeping sensation crawled up his back as he gripped his wand tighter. His instincts screamed danger. Without hesitation, he flicked his wand toward the source of the voice.

In the dim light, a figure emerged from the shadows.

A man stood there, his pale, silver-white hair glistening under the flickering flames. He exuded an air of unnatural stillness, his sharp features accentuated by the faint glow of a streetlamp outside. He wore a finely tailored black suit, sleek and pristine, and in his gloved hand rested a delicate cane, carved with intricate, ancient symbols. Despite his poised demeanor, an unmistakable aura of menace surrounded him, a force that pressed down on the air itself.

Wes felt his throat tighten.

"…Mephisto."

Carter's eyes widened in shock before his instincts kicked in. Without hesitation, he raised his revolver and fired two shots.

Bang! Bang!

The bullets cut through the air—

—And passed straight through Mephisto as if he were made of mist.

The demon remained motionless, unbothered. The corners of his lips curled ever so slightly.

Johnny reacted next, launching forward at breakneck speed, his fist clenched tight, ready to strike.

Mephisto merely glanced at him.

And just like that, Johnny froze in place. His entire body stiffened as if an invisible force had shackled him mid-air, rendering him utterly immobile. His fists trembled with the lingering momentum of his punch, yet he could not move an inch.

Mephisto sighed dramatically, pulling a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at the corners of his eyes—though no tears had ever fallen.

"It's so sad…" he murmured, voice dripping with mock sympathy. "My own knight, so ungrateful… so rude."

He let out another exaggerated sigh before offering a pitiful shake of his head.

Wes, meanwhile, took a slow step backward. His heartbeat thundered in his chest as he edged away from Mephisto's looming presence. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to escape, to Apparate out of this place now.

But—

His eyes flickered to Johnny and Carter.

Johnny and Carter had both signed contracts with Mephisto. In essence, they belonged to him. That made them valuable. Mephisto wouldn't discard them easily.

But Wes?

Wes was an outsider.

Mephisto had no ties to him. If anyone was going to be ripped apart here, it would be him.

"Also you, little wizard," Mephisto said suddenly. His deep, golden eyes settled on Wes with an eerie amusement, studying him as though he were a fascinating new toy.

"In the future I predicted…" he mused, his voice smooth yet chilling, "you were never supposed to exist."

Wes's breath caught. His pulse quickened.

That was his cue.

Without hesitation, he reached for the panel—

Before he could even react, a ghostly hand clamped onto his shoulder.

A shiver ran through his entire body. His blood ran ice-cold.

When?!

Wes hadn't even seen him move.

His body tensed, muscles locking up as he fought the instinct to bolt.

Mephisto's grip was deceptively gentle, yet it held the force of something inescapable. His fingers, gloved in soft leather, felt like iron shackles.

"You destroyed my plans," Mephisto murmured, his voice low and velvety, but there was no mistaking the malice underneath. His golden eyes narrowed slightly. "How should I compensate for such a loss?"

His lips curled into a mockery of sadness. "My beloved child was brutally killed by you… Can you understand the depth of my grief?"

He sniffled for dramatic effect, dabbing at nonexistent tears with his handkerchief once again.

But as he saw the three of them standing in stony silence, refusing to play along, his theatrical act crumbled. His expression shifted—bored, uninterested.

"Tch. No appreciation for the arts," he muttered. "That was an Oscar-worthy performance."

He suddenly lifted his hand.

A surge of energy pulsed through the air.

From Wes's chest, a glowing contract—the Saint Van Gonza Contract—ripped itself free as if drawn by an unseen force. It floated toward Mephisto's open palm, settling neatly into his grasp.

"Aah… years of patience… and now, finally, the harvest."

Mephisto's lips curled into a victorious grin as he began to chant.

The contract trembled in his grip. A brilliant light erupted from the parchment, growing so intense that the entire room was bathed in its blinding glow.

Then—

The light faded.

And in its place, 3,000 holy souls emerged, floating in the air, their ghostly figures shifting uneasily.

The moment they saw Mephisto—

They tried to flee.

A cacophony of desperate whispers and ghostly wails filled the room. The spirits darted in all directions, clawing at the empty space, trying to escape the demon's grasp.

Mephisto clicked his tongue.

"Tsk. That's not allowed. The God you so devotedly worship forbids breaking contracts."

He raised a hand.

A powerful suction force erupted from his palm, drawing the 3,000 souls back toward him, imprisoning them in an invisible cage.

Carter cursed under his breath. His face was grim, voice urgent.

"We need to stop him now! If he absorbs those souls and opens the Gates of Hell, we're screwed!"

"What do you expect me to do?!" Wes snapped, his voice strained. His mind was racing. Could he run? Could he fight?

He knew one thing for sure: If he tried to escape, he'd die instantly.

Just then—

A fourth figure stepped forward.

A man in priestly robes, his presence commanding yet calm. The wild wind around them seemed to part for him, as if the very elements recognized his power.

Mephisto's expression immediately shifted.

"Damn it…!" His face contorted in frustration. Dormamu, that idiot didn't trap you?!"

Behind the priest, a shadow flickered—

A woman emerged.

Her robes were gold and green, her aura radiant and overwhelming. Her presence alone silenced the chaos.

Mephisto's entire demeanor changed the instant he saw her.

His face darkened.

"…Gu Yi."

The Ancient One smiled softly.

"It's been a long time, Mephisto."

And just like that, the balance of power shifted.

The battle for the souls had begun.

"Are you here to expel me?" Murphisto hesitated for a moment before his expression shifted to one of feigned realization. His lips curled into an insincere smile.

"This is merely an avatar," he continued nonchalantly. "Even if it's abandoned, it means nothing to me—no loss at all."

His voice carried an air of indifference, yet a sharp glint flickered in his eyes, betraying his true thoughts.

And then, for a brief moment, his mind seemed to glitch—fragmented thoughts overlapping in chaotic repetition:

There is no mistake, one, one, one, one, one, one, one, one… 619… one book… one, one, one, one… a book!

Snapping back to focus, his gaze fell upon what had drawn their attention.

"Oh, so this is about the contract."

Murphisto smirked, lifting his hand and producing an aged parchment with an exaggerated flourish. The dark aura surrounding it pulsed ominously.

With a sense of pride, he presented it.

"This—" he declared, shaking the contract slightly in his grip, "is the San Venganza Contract! They signed it willingly. I am merely here to fulfill the terms of an agreement long overdue. Even you, Supreme Sorcerer, cannot deny the legitimacy of a contract sealed by free will."

Gu Yi nodded, her expression calm and unreadable.

"You are right."

Murphisto's smirk deepened, but beneath his outward confidence, a shadow of unease flickered.

"Then why are you here?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "To witness me opening the Gates of Hell?"

The air grew dense with tension.

Then, without a word, a spear appeared in Gu Yi's hands.

It was old, its shaft weathered by time. At first glance, it seemed almost unremarkable—quaint, even. But the tip of the spear told another story.

It gleamed with an eerie brilliance, stained deep red with the Blood of Christ.

Murphisto's expression instantly darkened. His casual arrogance crumbled as realization dawned upon him.

"The Lance of Longinus!"

His voice was low, almost a growl, yet laced with undeniable dread.

Panic flashed across his face before he quickly forced himself to appear calm.

"He… He has joined forces with you?" Murphisto's voice faltered slightly, though he masked it with a forced scoff.

Gu Yi gave a small shrug, her voice as steady as ever.

"It is merely a temporary alliance. I seek the stability of this world—He needs these 3,000 Holy Spirits."

Her words were light, almost conversational, yet they carried an undeniable weight.

"You see," she added, her eyes gleaming with subtle amusement, "when I banished Him last time, His losses were... significant. Naturally, He needs to replenish His forces."

Murphisto's eyes widened in sheer disbelief.

"Damn it!"

"Shameless!"

His anger boiled over, his composure cracking.

"How could He do this?! This is beyond hypocrisy! Worse than the Devil himself!"

But his outburst meant nothing.

Gu Yi remained still, unfazed.

With a simple flick of her wrist, she thrust the Lance of Longinus forward.

The tip of the ancient spear pierced the San Venganza Contract.

A brilliant light erupted from the parchment as its dark magic unraveled.

Murphisto could only watch, his eyes narrowing with barely concealed rage, as the contract crumbled into dust, disintegrating bit by bit under the overwhelming power of the sacred weapon.

A cold silence followed.

Murphisto's face went completely blank. But then, in the span of a heartbeat, his expression shifted—the anger drained away, replaced by something calmer, colder.

"Fine," he said, his tone eerily composed.

"It's just one of many countless plans."

He adjusted his hat, then performed a slight bow, his movements slow and deliberate.

"Then, farewell… Supreme Sorcerer," he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I look forward to our next meeting."

With that, his form began to fade—his very presence dissolving into the shadows.

But in the final moment before his disappearance, he turned his gaze toward Wes.

There was something in that look—a flicker of curiosity, of knowing. A silent message only Wes could perceive.

Then, Murphisto was gone.

Suddenly, a gorgeous door appeared in the sky.

Its frame shimmered with divine light, its surface adorned with celestial symbols beyond mortal comprehension.

Angels surrounded the entrance, their wings unfurling with a brilliance that bathed the world below in a soft, golden glow.

They sang.

Their voices, gentle yet commanding, wove a sacred melody that resonated deep within the souls of those who heard it.

Gu Yi, without hesitation, lifted a single hand and waved her sleeve.

Instantly, the radiant door vanished, along with the celestial beings.

The 3,000 Holy Spirits, now freed from the contract's hold, bowed toward her in silent gratitude before merging into a single, pulsating orb of light.

Then, like a falling star, the orb ascended into the heavens.

All that remained was a crystal ball, no larger than a clenched fist, suspended in the air.

It hung there, perfectly still, humming with an energy unlike anything Wes had ever encountered before.