Xenomorphs were proving to be even more useful than anticipated—at least, that was what the Ancient One believed.
For one, they allowed for instantaneous message transmission. As long as an individual carried an Xenomorph within them, Duncan could perceive their presence in real-time and establish remote communication and control. That alone was an astonishing capability.
If one had to nitpick, the only downside was that, for now, Xenomorphs couldn't communicate with each other over extremely long distances.
"This is the Sanctum Sanctorum? Looks like it's fortified with a lot of powerful magic," Druid remarked, scrutinizing his surroundings with a critical gaze. Even so, he had to admit that the place was somewhat intimidating—every building was reinforced with formidable enchantments.
He couldn't even begin to imagine what would happen if all the magic formations were activated at once. The defensive capabilities on display would be truly terrifying.
Of course, the key to utilizing all these enchantments simultaneously lay with the Ancient One.
Every year, a number of mediocre sorcerers left Kamar-Taj, returning to the mundane world. However, this came with a downside: some of them ended up being swayed by Dormammu and Kaecilius.
"Magic? That's not something I'd ever bother learning."
Druid shook his head. "Don't think I didn't notice—Kaecilius, that dark sorcerer from earlier, was in terrible shape. If he had been at his peak, he wouldn't have been so easy to stop. Otherwise, you wouldn't have spent all these years chasing him down without managing to kill him."
The Ancient One removed her hood, glanced at Druid, and remained silent, her expression calm.
Hearing Druid's casual words, Mordo frowned in dissatisfaction. "Forget about asking the Sorcerer Supreme to intervene. Give me Professor X and Magneto, and I guarantee I can take down Kaecilius myself."
"You don't need to. Professor X and Magneto alone could handle Kaecilius—you're unnecessary," Druid replied coldly. "Besides, Reynolds and I are far stronger than either of them."
With every breath, he remained connected to the Xenomorph embedded in his chest. Every thought he had seemed to drift into that dark abyss—a sea of flowers blooming in the void. The stark contrast between the two created an overwhelming sense of security and belonging, an addictive sensation.
Mordo's face twisted with rage, and he let out a cold laugh. He was so furious that he turned to grab his weapon, ready to settle things with Druid right then and there.
Did Druid think he didn't know who he was dealing with? An Eternal with psychic abilities—but unlike Gilgamesh or Ikaris, he lacked a physically formidable body.
And more importantly, for some reason, the real threat—the Sentinels—had yet to appear. If one of them had shown up instead, Mordo wouldn't have been so quick to challenge him. Against a Sentinel, he'd need to unleash multiple powerful spells just to stand a chance.
Mordo was already devising a strategy in his mind to put Druid in his place. First, he would cast a spell to shield his mind. Then, using the traditional staff techniques of Kamar-Taj, he would beat Druid into submission.
After all, a sorcerer who hadn't mastered combat was an unqualified sorcerer—one who had learned nothing from Kamar-Taj.
The group stepped into the grand hall.
Various sorcerers moved about in haste, occasionally nodding in acknowledgment to the Ancient One before hurrying off, clutching thick tomes in their arms.
The place resembled an ancient university.
Wong approached them. "Kaecilius is dead. I heard about it from Erika and rushed over from the training grounds. This is fantastic news. Under the combined assault of us and Duncan, we've finally eliminated the dark sorcerer."
He then turned to Druid. "Are you looking for Erika and Murdock? They're in the training grounds, sparring with a vampire. Funny thing is, that vampire used to be their teacher. But hasn't Erika been hunting vampires all this time? The relationships here are too complicated—I still haven't figured them out."
Druid glanced at Wong without a word. He had no intention of seeking out Erika.
As long as the Xenomorphs existed, they were always together.
"But the soil that breeds dark sorcerers remains," he continued, "and it's about to resurge. What we need to do now is find a way to eradicate that soil entirely."
Wong nodded in understanding.
Dormammu—the ruler of the Dark Dimension, the undisputed overlord of dark magic in this universe, and, for now, the foremost avatar of Chthon. A cosmic-level entity of singular strength.
Even among cosmic-level beings, there were variations in power, but the truth was undeniable—anyone who faced Dormammu would have a headache dealing with him.
Even if they managed to defeat him, truly killing Dormammu was another matter entirely. Doing so would require venturing into the Dark Dimension and challenging him on his own turf.
That level of difficulty was astronomical. Killing Dormammu would necessitate destroying the Dark Dimension itself—essentially obliterating an entire pocket universe.
Moreover, Dormammu had an absurdly powerful backer. If pushed to the brink, he could beg Chthon for power, and who knew how much more dangerous he would become?
For those present, their objective was simply to repel Dormammu's invasion—at best, to inflict some real pain on him. Strictly speaking, they didn't even need to "defeat" him outright. Even that alone would be a near-impossible task.
Mordo sighed, shaking his head. He was getting nowhere with Druid and his single-minded thinking. "Do you even understand who Dormammu is? Do you realize just how powerful he is? He's lived for billions of years! The Sorcerer Supreme is only a few hundred years old!"
Only then did Druid truly comprehend the scale of the situation.
From Ajak, he had learned the truth—that he was merely a tool created by the Celestials, having existed for millions of years. However, his memory only stretched back to his arrival on Earth.
But even if he counted every single year of his existence, millions of years still paled in comparison to Dormammu. More importantly, he lacked the accumulated power that should have come with those years. His abilities had always seemed innate, and in the 7,000 years he had spent on Earth, they had hardly grown stronger.
Thinking of this, Druid's thoughts immediately turned to Arishem—the being who had used him as nothing more than a tool.
Millions of years.
Millions of years of repeating the same cycle, over and over again, like a fool.
And as if that weren't enough, his memories were wiped clean each time, forcing him to start anew on every new planet.
The more he had once revered Arishem, the more he now wanted to destroy him.
He saw many things in Duncan's mind. Although he didn't have time to explore the entirety of that abyss-like consciousness, even the fragmented glimpses he caught were enough for Druid to understand what kind of person Duncan was and the vast and distant ambitions he harbored.
No one understands Duncan better than I do, Druid thought, proudly lifting his chin.
Ancient One, like a masterful tea connoisseur, lifted the teapot with long, fair fingers and poured the tea into an antique cup with impeccable precision, not spilling a single drop.
Even this tea set alone would be considered a priceless antique in the outside world.
Ancient One gestured toward the tea. "Try this. I'm sure it's been a few hundred years since you last had some."
"I don't drink this. I only drink plain water," Druid replied.
Ancient One's gaze shifted from Druid's face to his chest.
"I think it's time for a proper discussion. We can't always let Druid do as he pleases," Ancient One said.
Duncan stood by the window, gazing into the distance. In a calm tone, he said, "Don't mind me. That was just a courtesy. I imagine anyone would instinctively be on guard when suddenly faced with the Sorcerer Supreme—especially someone like me, who holds a weapon capable of dealing with the Sorcerer Supreme. I assume you've already guessed that, given that I deliberately reassigned Reynolds to reduce your chances of taking him down instantly."
Hearing this, Ancient One's expression remained unchanged, but Mordo and Wong exchanged looks of shock.
A weapon capable of dealing with the Sorcerer Supreme?
Was there such a thing on Earth? Was it S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Tesseract, or something else entirely?
"But you weren't prepared for me to personally go after Kaecilius," Ancient One continued. "You assumed it would be Mordo and Wong instead."
"So, the weapon you're referring to isn't an artifact or a spell," Ancient One deduced, "but the Sentinel. But a Sentinel alone won't be enough."
"Do you have the Time Stone? Can you see the future?"
Duncan scoffed at the thought of relying solely on Reynolds.
Reynolds was still Reynolds—cowardly, weak, and prone to bullying the weak while fearing the strong. And on top of that, there was something just a little off about his brain.
Right now, Reynolds carried himself as if he were invincible, eager to challenge anyone—especially those with great fame or high status. Even he had started to believe in his own near-invincibility.
But in reality? If Reynolds had faced Magneto as his very first opponent without Duncan constantly feeding him instructions, urging him on with words, and exploiting his addiction—his need to show off—he would have run the moment he realized how tough the fight was.
The only reason Reynolds barely managed to defeat Magneto was because of Duncan's guidance, the powerful combat instincts provided by the Xenomorph embryo within him, and the additional weapon of his highly corrosive blood.
Otherwise, there was no doubt—Reynolds would have fled without a second thought.
"Attributes are constantly shifting, changing at every moment. That makes predicting the future extremely difficult."
"Such as?"
"For example, in the countless futures I've seen, there are versions where Magneto destroys the world, where Professor X does, and even where Erika brings about destruction. If you were in my place, which future would you believe?"
"I wouldn't believe any of them. I only trust myself," Duncan said calmly.
Time, within a single universe, was a joke—unless it was an inevitability, an immutable "time point" woven into the very fabric of reality.
Ancient One sipped her tea. "It seems we share the same perspective on this. Time is just a weapon. Nothing more."
"But there's something else I'm very interested in—magic. If I had the chance to study magic, that would be ideal," Duncan said. "I assume you won't fault me for being honest. It's better than lying, after all."
"Kamar-Taj has always been a relatively open place. If you wish to learn magic and have an aptitude for it, you can study some introductory knowledge and minor spells. However, true magical talent…"
That likely referred to one's ability to serve as a vessel for magical particles—and, more importantly, the ability to successfully borrow power from higher-dimensional entities.
The latter was far more crucial than the former.
"I don't need to learn advanced magic. The more you learn, the more you owe," Duncan remarked. "Though I haven't personally experienced it, I can roughly guess—using more power means becoming more entangled with some being lurking in the background."
Controlling Druid, Duncan casually found a seat and sat down. "I'll keep sending Xenomorphs to speed up the learning process."
Wong and Mordo listened to their conversation, exchanging uneasy glances.
Wong muttered to Mordo, "Just picture it—a group of sorcerers, and in the middle of them, a three-meter-tall monster flicking its tail around, accidentally slicing a few unfortunate apprentices in half."
That was a mental image that just felt... utterly wrong.
"I'm suddenly reminded of Krug…"
"Shut up, Wong. Krug is not a fish! He has nothing to do with fish!"
"Maybe a red-skinned lizard, then?"
Mordo had no interest in entertaining Wong's nonsense. Sometimes, he wondered—if Krug, who had long since joined the Ravagers, ever heard the things Wong said about him, would he travel across the galaxy just to settle the score?
With a flick of his sleeves, Mordo walked off. Wong, still muttering, followed after him.
They both knew that whatever was coming next in the conversation was something they probably shouldn't be involved in.
Duncan continued, "Let's get back to our discussion. I have no use for advanced magic, but I am very interested in the knowledge of deconstructing magic. Don't doubt my ability to learn—so long as I have enough Xenomorphs, my learning speed will only increase."
By linking his mind to all the Xenomorphs, everything they learned would naturally become his.
"And then what?" Ancient One asked. "Once you learn magic, do you plan to borrow power from Vishanti to cast spells?"
"An Ancient God of Righteousness. Compared to borrowing power, I am more interested in developing my own magical path."
The Ancient One's expression shifted slightly, a hint of surprise appearing on her face. Even she had never considered such a possibility—no, in theory, it should have been impossible.
Entities capable of lending magic as an external force were exceedingly rare across the entire multiverse.
But Duncan? He wasn't even a god. What gave him the audacity to think this way?
"That's bold… but also utterly insane. While the future holds infinite possibilities, your path is still nearly impossible."
"You said 'nearly'—then I am that 'nearly.'" Duncan's voice was calm, as if he were discussing something entirely unrelated to himself.
The Ancient One's interest in Duncan deepened. "And if you succeed? If you establish your own magical system and can grant power to others—what then? Will you continue developing new magic? That would be even more difficult."
Yes. It wasn't just about lending magic; it also required a structured system of spells that sorcerers could quickly learn and master.
Duncan looked at the Ancient One with a puzzled expression—Druid mimicked the same reaction.
"Why would I create a complete magical system? Why would I develop so many different levels of spells? If I really had to develop magic, I would only need one spell."
Druid pointed at his own chest.
Duncan said, "Within my reach—whoever chants my true name shall receive a Xenomorph."
After a moment of thought, he added, "Of course, it would be best if the spell included both a successful summoning and a successful parasitic implantation."
The Ancient One was so stunned that she froze mid-motion, teacup suspended in her hand. She looked up, staring at the man before her.
Was this really a spell a human could conceive?
Just by calling his name, he would send a dangerous Xenomorph across endless space—one that would not only arrive instantly but would also successfully parasitize its host?
It sounded utterly ridiculous.
"Xenomorphs… if you truly become their master, you might actually reshape this universe beyond recognition."
"Perhaps. No one can predict the future. But even if I succeed, it wouldn't necessarily be a bad future for Earth and humanity. At the very least, it would provide an entirely new possibility in times of crisis." Duncan diverted the conversation.
Mastering both divine power and magic—whichever path led to success, he would take it.
His Xenomorphs should not remain mere planetary creatures; they should be capable of freely traversing the cosmic void, even executing faster-than-light space travel.
If that future became reality, they would roam the universe, autonomously seeking the best possible hosts.
Just imagining it satisfied Duncan.
Of course, there would be those who weren't pleased—this path would inevitably spark countless wars.
The Ancient One hesitated. In the past, she might have tried to stop this madman before her—such a change would inevitably have a massive impact on Earth. But now, it wasn't necessary.
Even this 'correct' path could still lead the universe to an extremely terrible future.
The future was unpredictable.
The Ancient One remained silent, lost in thought.
Duncan spoke, "Forget about how I study magic. Let's talk about Dormammu instead. That guy is probably furious right now—he might already have his sights set on Earth and could attack at any moment."
Dormammu was a petty and vindictive being. He hadn't become the ruler of the Dark Dimension through kindness or mercy.
"How much do you know about Dormammu?" the Ancient One asked.
"A little. He was born into the ancient Faltine race, wasn't he? But that race is nearly extinct now." Duncan replied. "I also had the 'pleasure' of experiencing Kaecilius's 'Mouth of Faltine' spell firsthand."
"Then you should understand just how dangerous a demon god like him is. That's why we absolutely cannot allow a battle—"
"Haven't you already set up powerful magical wards to protect Earth? Why not use them?"
"Those wards can only provide support; they can't truly stop a cosmic demon god. What I mean is, you should bring out the weapon you've been keeping in reserve against me—use it to fight Dormammu instead."
The Ancient One spoke slowly. "It is my duty to protect Earth, yes. But if Earth is destroyed, you won't survive either."
"Oh, I'll survive just fine. I'll just pack up and flee to Asgard." Duncan said matter-of-factly. "Even though they're in the middle of a war, things are chaotic, and Odin is either dead or close to it—I think they'd welcome me. In fact, they'd probably beg me to bring my Xenomorphs and join Asgard for good."
"…."
The Ancient One fell silent, deep in thought.
"When did you come up with this plan?"
"Always had it in mind. The fact that Xenomorphs are appearing in more and more places proves that I'm safe. At the very least, I don't think Dormammu has the power to destroy this entire universe in one go—he can't just wipe out all the Xenomorphs at once."
The Ancient One took a deep breath. "Then assist me. Help me deal with him. In exchange, I will grant you access to all of Kamar-Taj's magical knowledge."
"Ah, so we've come full circle." Duncan smirked. "In return, you will assist me in my research on magic."
To become a magical entity was no small task.
Even if the 'entity' Duncan sought to become was vastly inferior to the true gods, as long as he could hear prayers and grant Xenomorphs in response, that would be enough.
With the Ancient One involved from the start to clear some of the theoretical roadblocks, his progress would accelerate significantly.
"You trust me this much? Aren't you afraid I'll leave backdoors in the magic I help you develop?"
"Of course I'm afraid. That's why, once the research is on track, I plan to kick you out." Duncan said, his voice steady and composed.
Once again, the Ancient One fell into silence.
The two finally reached an agreement and slowly walked out of the grand hall.
With a casual sense, Duncan immediately knew that Erica was battling vampires within the sanctuary.
"That guy has already turned into a vampire. Why are you keeping him around? Shouldn't you have taken him out long ago?" Duncan asked.
"Wong has not truly fallen into villainy—at least, not yet. My help might rekindle his sense of justice. Of course, the chances are slim, but as long as there's a possibility, I will try."
Duncan pondered this response.
A gamble? No, it was more complex than that. At the very least, it wasn't something Duncan would do.
As they walked, Duncan noticed many hurriedly moving sorcerers.
He also saw numerous clones of Dum Dum.
Watching these figures gathered in groups, tirelessly practicing magic, Duncan finally understood what these clones were busy with.
"So the elites have all been sent here," he muttered.
Duncan nodded repeatedly, impressed by Ancient One's ingenuity. He had already guessed the purpose of these clones—they were undoubtedly being trained as ascetics.
Cheap, mass-produced, highly disciplined—what could be more cost-effective than recruiting a large number of Dum Dum clones?
However, on a deeper level, this move carried significant implications. It suggested that the Ancient One had been meticulously preparing, deliberately stockpiling these ascetics to share the burden of some greater cost.
But were all these ascetics solely for the Ancient One's use? Or were they being prepared for Strange?
And Strange wasn't necessarily destined to become the Sorcerer Supreme. In other universes, there were Spider-Man Sorcerer Supremes, Iron Man Sorcerer Supremes, and even Krug Sorcerer Supremes—these were all real possibilities.
"Does our universe have a designation?" Duncan suddenly asked.
"No, only a very select few universes are given specific numbers—those watched by the gods. Unfortunately, ours is just one of the countless ordinary universes."
"In a way, that's lucky. It means those troublesome beings—"
He trailed off, but the implication was clear.
If the Ancient One were to die, where would her soul go? Would it be claimed by Eternity or Vishanti? That was an interesting question.
"If you ever find yourself with nowhere to go, you can come to me," Duncan suddenly said. "Don't worry, I'm reliable. I'd be more than happy to have a Father-level Xenomorph in my ranks."
The Ancient One was caught off guard once again, staring at the druid before her in surprise.
She found conversing with Duncan to be endlessly fascinating—he always came up with the most outlandish yet audacious ideas.
To openly suggest recruiting the Sorcerer Supreme upon their first meeting? That was beyond absurd.
"Well then, if the day comes when I truly have no other options, I will seek you out," the Ancient One said with a serene smile. "But by then, you had better be prepared."
She spoke with such warmth, yet her words carried an ominous weight.
"Because at that time, I suspect a horde of magical deities and dimensional lords will come chasing after me."
Duncan stopped in his tracks, gazing at the centuries-old woman before him. He couldn't help but ask, "Just how many debts do you owe?"
The Ancient One remained composed. "As for my debt to Vishanti, I stall as long as I can. But I won't push too far—after all, they are on our side. When the time truly comes, I'll repay a little, then use dark magic to restore the damage to my body and spirit."
"I appreciate your honesty. But if you're using that much dark magic, hasn't Chthon come knocking on your door?"
"Well, Dormammu is the one taking the brunt of it. So Chthon mostly goes after him instead. Of course, I don't let Dormammu bear it all alone. If I use too much dark magic, I make a symbolic offering—just a tiny bit. Then afterward, I use the power of Raggadorr to heal myself."
"…?"
Duncan suddenly felt as if he had uncovered an incredible secret. "And what about Raggadorr? How do you plan on paying them back?"
The Ancient One gave Duncan a curious look, surprised that he even knew of Raggadorr. "Matoom, Balthakk, Altorr, Ikonn… I once dedicated myself to listening to the voices of extradimensional entities. The more paths I explored, the more choices I had."
"…And none of them decided to kill you?"
"Not yet. But I suspect some are already growing impatient. So you understand why I must—"
She hesitated, lowering her voice. "Which is why I've recently been keeping an eye on the demons of Hell. Cyttorak is unpredictable, so I need to observe more. Fortunately, Mephisto occasionally wanders onto our Earth, which presents a rare opportunity. If he doesn't work out, I'll try Nightmare, Zatanos, Despair, S'ym… There are always more options."
"???"
Duncan felt his heart skip a beat. This whole 'debt-stacking' approach felt strangely familiar. The more he thought about it, the more he suspected he was witnessing some kind of high-level reverse pyramid scheme.
For the first time, he began to doubt his own decision-making.
Should he have stayed far away from the Ancient One from the very beginning?
Even Duncan, who prided himself on being calm and rational, had to admit—this woman was on another level.
It completely reshaped his understanding of the Sorcerer Supreme.
If the pool was big enough, truly, all kinds of fish would swim in it.