It began with a whisper, a pulse that echoed across the leylines of Earth. The snow-covered expanse of Antarctica, long considered a place of silence and desolation, had become a wound in the planet's magical fabric. From that wound, the Scarlet King had risen—and the world felt his arrival.
In the Sanctum Sanctorum, the wind howled through walls enchanted to be impervious to nature. Books rattled on their shelves, and the Eye of Agamotto flickered with chaotic green light.
Doctor Strange stood at the center of a summoning circle, his brows furrowed. The ripple he felt wasn't just magical—it was conceptual. Something had entered this realm that did not belong.
He reached into the folds of his cloak and retrieved the Book of the Vishanti. With practiced precision, he turned to the hidden passages—verses tied to multiversal threats. Then, hesitating, he conjured a fragment of the Darkhold, risking corruption for knowledge.
There, etched in blood and time: The Broken Crown. The Crimson Sovereign. The Scarlet King.
His heart sank. "This... this is not a demon. This is a force."
He lit a beacon spell, a cry for attention to every magical guardian and Avenger who would listen.
---
At the Xavier Institute, Jean Grey screamed.
Cerebro, linked to her mind, flared in crimson light. Professor Charles Xavier and Magneto ran to her side as the chair sparked.
Jean's eyes glowed with Phoenix fire, but it was unstable. Wild. Afraid.
"Something touched me," she whispered. "Something older than the Phoenix."
Xavier stiffened. "That's not possible."
Magneto, his eyes narrow, stared toward the south. "Then we must redefine what is."
---
Far across the void of space, the Silver Surfer hovered above a dying star. A shudder passed through him, not from cold but from memory—ancient echoes of a being the cosmos had tried to forget.
He turned his gaze toward Earth, toward the cold continent cloaked in shadow.
"He has come."
On the moon, Uatu the Watcher did not intervene. He only watched, the light of multiple timelines flashing in his eyes. In all of them, the Scarlet King's presence was a pivot. A moment from which nothing would be the same.
Even Galactus stirred in his slumber, a primal hunger awakening. Not hunger for planets—but for conflict. For challenge.
---
In Latveria, Doctor Doom stood in his private sanctum, reading ancient scrolls. The scrying pool before him boiled over with red mist.
"So... you are real."
He did not tremble. But for the first time in years, he considered. Would he kneel? Or would he strike?
In another realm, Mephisto growled in his throne room of flame. The Scarlet King's energy was not divine, nor was it infernal. It was foundational. And Mephisto feared him.
---
At the Wakandan Outreach Center, Shuri examined seismic data. Anomalies near the South Pole didn't match any tectonic pattern.
"It's like the continent is breathing," she muttered.
Black Panther stood beside her. "Or something beneath it is waking up."
They exchanged a glance. Contact was made with Stark, Banner, and Rogers.
In Avengers Tower, Tony Stark viewed the compiled data. Magical pulses, tectonic irregularities, thermal signatures—and red magic that resembled Wanda's energy.
"We need a team ready. Fast."
"Wanda's gone off-grid," Banner added. "If this is connected to her—"
"It is," Natasha said flatly. "You all feel it. So does she."
---
Meanwhile, in Sokovia, Wanda Maximoff stood on a frozen cliff edge, the wind lashing against her. The voice from her dreams still echoed. The throne, the flame, the presence...
She could feel him now, clearer than ever. Each moment passed like a heartbeat shared with him. The Scarlet King had shown her a piece of something larger than chaos—something eternal.
And she was no longer afraid.
She raised her hands, the red glow swirling in her palms. A portal shimmered in the air.
She was coming.
---
In Antarctica, the King watched the storm roll in. His throne of red crystal and black ice pulsed in rhythm with the world's dread.
He could feel their eyes.
The Sorcerer. The Witch. The Mutants. The Machines. The Gods.
They would come.
He would welcome them.
He smiled, and the storm above deepened.
Let the world tremble.
Let them remember what it means to kneel before a king.