S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters.
Natasha Romanoff stared blankly at the screen in front of her, her mind momentarily frozen, unable to process the terrifying scene unfolding. She had seen monsters, aliens, and even gods, but this... this was something else entirely. Her body trembled, and her breath came in shallow gasps. There wasn't even enough strength in her heart to muster despair.
On the screen, a small, lonely figure stood against a towering, monstrous silhouette. That figure—James—looked so fragile, so insignificant, yet he didn't run.
A strange sensation tugged at her chest. A pang of heartache.
Her gaze drifted from the helpless figure to the monstrous being looming over him. Shivering, she whispered, "What... what is this thing?"
Even Nick Fury, hardened by years of warfare and alien encounters, found himself pale-faced and tight-lipped. His dark features, normally unshakable, twitched slightly.
He had traveled to other planets, faced the unknown with Marvel Woman by his side, and seen terrors beyond imagination. But this? This shadow that defied reality itself… it exceeded even his darkest expectations.
Then it hit him.
If they—protected, hidden behind reinforced glass, monitors, and miles of safety—were this afraid... how much more terrified must James be right now, standing face-to-face with this creature?
Kamar-Taj.
"Oh my god... what is that?" one apprentice screamed in horror.
Others quickly followed, their voices trembling with panic.
But the Ancient One did not respond. She remained silent, her expression solemn. This feeling... this ominous, suffocating presence—she had felt it before. And now, it was back.
She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping it was an illusion. But it wasn't.
Once again, she felt the terrible, unknowable aura of an existence that didn't belong in any reality she understood. It was beyond the comprehension of magic, time, or space. It was as if something unspeakable was hiding within that towering shadow, whispering from behind the veil of existence.
She dared not ask how many more of such beings existed in the world James came from—the world where the SCP Foundation operated.
How had the humans of that world not gone mad?
Her head began to throb, thoughts spiraling. She forced herself to stop thinking. Any more, and she feared she might lose her sanity.
"Thank you for everything you've done," said the shadowy humanoid monster, its voice eerily calm, deep, and echoing across the desolate space.
Perhaps it was the hopelessness upon hopelessness, or maybe James had simply hit the bottom of despair and couldn't fall any further—but in that moment, he became remarkably calm.
He didn't bother to analyze the meaning behind the monster's words. Instead, he asked instinctively, "Who are you?"
He hadn't really expected an answer. After all, such beings rarely gave explanations to mortals. But to his surprise, the entity tilted its head slightly, as if thinking, and then actually replied.
"You may consider me a leader, a representative of our kind," it said slowly, thoughtfully. "We are what you humans call monsters. Devils, demons, shadow entities... Choose whatever term comforts you."
The audience watching the live broadcast froze.
This thing... this thing in front of James... was the leader of the demons?
Was the world going insane?
The creature fell into momentary silence, as if reminiscing or weighing thoughts that stretched across time. Then it said:
"All of this... was created by you."
A collective gasp echoed in the chat of the live feed.
But the dark, towering entity didn't deny it. Instead, it nodded slowly and added, "Yes. But we could not have done this without the Lord's help."
Its tone carried reverence, even a fanatical devotion. The way it looked around, the gleam in its eyes—it was as if it stood in the presence of a holy altar.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
Nick Fury's frown deepened. The word "Lord" echoed in his mind, stirring memories he had hoped to forget.
He recalled the murals. The altars. The fragments of cryptic texts uncovered during previous investigations. They all painted a picture that hadn't made sense—until now.
As agents and higher-ups stared at him in confusion, Fury sucked in a deep breath and began to speak.
"We've overlooked one critical point from the beginning... the cult."
"Cult?" gasped several agents in unison.
Natasha's brow furrowed. She processed the statement, and then her expression suddenly changed—eyes wide, mouth slightly open in disbelief.
"You're saying... the warped space in the farmhouse, the demons vulnerable only to silver bullets and prayers, and now this thing… are all connected to a cult?"
No one said anything, but the agents' faces grew visibly paler.
"If that's the case," Natasha continued, voice low, "then the 'Lord' this being mentioned..."
Nick Fury nodded grimly. "At the very least, an evil god-level existence..."
Evil god.
Those words alone seemed to sap the blood from everyone's faces. The air inside the room turned colder.
But S.H.I.E.L.D. was not the only one who grasped the gravity of what they were witnessing.
Asgard.
Loki lounged on his throne, idly toying with a goblet of wine, watching the events from a magical projection. His expression was dismissive, arrogant.
"A god?" he scoffed. "Something conjured by madmen performing rituals in the dark corners of the universe is not a god. It is a shadow of one."
But there was a glint in his eye. Amusement? Concern? Maybe both.
Back in the live feed, the camera zoomed in on the towering black shadow standing before James.
It stared directly at him, its expression unreadable, as though trying to decipher something from his face.
One second... two... three...
Time stretched.
But James didn't flinch. There was no fear, no trembling. Not even awe.
Instead, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Lord? That is your master?" James spat with contempt.
His muscles tightened. He clenched his fists, and through gritted teeth, he added with a sneer, "What kind of god would choose a failure like you to be his follower?"
The live chat exploded.
"He's provoking it!"
"Is he insane?"
"James, what are you doing?!"
The audience could see it—he was doing it on purpose. Provoking the creature.
But strangely, the shadow didn't retaliate.
It remained still, the deep glow in its eyes flickering. After a moment, it turned around and issued a low, guttural roar in a language that defied translation. The other demons around it responded immediately, falling into utter silence.
Then it turned back to James and spoke again, voice colder now:
"The Lord will not respond to your pitiful slanders. You are still bound by primitive concepts and ancient fears. Your form—fragile, decaying—cannot grasp His greatness."
"Can't understand?" James repeated mockingly.
He laughed—a bitter, sharp sound.
"Of course. That's the perfect excuse, isn't it? Dress your disgusting, twisted beliefs in a holy robe and pretend you're something more than filth. Is that your defense?"
This time, the effect was immediate.
The demons behind the shadow stirred restlessly. Their grotesque forms rippled with agitation. Some even growled lowly, fangs bared.
But the giant shadow did not attack. Instead, it narrowed its eyes slightly.
"I was going to ignore you," it said. "But we cannot tolerate your ignorance. Not like the Lord can. So now... listen closely."
Its voice dropped, low and menacing, like the sound of thunder in the distance before a storm.
"These next words will reveal the truth behind your actions. You'll see how naïve you've been, how foolish your resistance truly is. And perhaps..."
A twisted smile appeared on its face before vanishing instantly.
"Perhaps they will answer your final question—why nothing changed after you destroyed all the hearts."
James's expression shifted.
He hadn't mentioned the hearts. Not out loud.
The live feed exploded again.
"It knew?! It knew from the beginning?!"
"Wait—why didn't it stop him?"
"Doesn't that mean… the hearts weren't the real target?"
James's thoughts spun.
He had believed those pulsing hearts were the source. The anchors of this nightmare. And he had destroyed them all—one by one.
But now this creature stood before him... unaffected.
The realization hit him hard.
The hearts weren't what he thought they were.
And whatever came next—he wasn't ready.
To be continued...
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