Into The Marvel Universe : A Reborn Sorcerer

A golden portal flared open, and Sebastian stepped onto a windswept beach in the northwest Atlantic, the ocean's roar mingling with the cry of distant gulls. The island loomed before him, its dense forests and jagged cliffs bathed in the fading light of dusk.

With a flick of his wrist, his wand materialized, its familiar weight steadying his focus. He waved it toward the island, sending out an invisible pulse of magic. The spell rippled across the land, brushing against the island's inhabitants—farmers, fishermen, a scattering of souls. None bore Kaecilius's signature. Sebastian's eyes narrowed, undeterred.

He reached into his cloak, retrieving twenty-five rune stones, each etched with Asgardian sigils. A tap of his wand set them spinning, dancing in the air like embers caught in a breeze. In his mind, he chanted Kaecilius's name, his focus sharp as a blade. The stones slowed, their orbits aligning into a starry constellation, pointing north—where the sun's last rays still clung to the horizon.

"North… where the sun hasn't set," Sebastian murmured. He waved his hand, and the stones returned to his cloak. His form dissolved into black smoke, soaring skyward, streaking toward the island's northern reaches.

The sky here was dim, the horizon swallowing the sun's final glow. Below, a sprawling island stretched out, its northern tip aglow with the last vestiges of daylight. Sebastian's instincts hummed—this was the place his divination had revealed.

The island was vast, teeming with life. Finding Kaecilius wouldn't be simple, but Sebastian trusted his skill. As long as Kaecilius was here, he'd root him out.

The black smoke dissipated mid-air, and Sebastian's body twisted into a vortex, reappearing in a dense forest on the island's northern slopes. He glanced at his attire—too conspicuous. A wave of his wand transformed his clothes into the loose, earthy garments of the island's locals.

From his pocket, he drew the metal cylinder Tony Stark had crafted. Slipping on the golden-red mask and metal boots, he activated their cloaking function, rendering them invisible. The mask hummed to life, its scanning systems projecting a faint holographic grid across his vision. Satisfied, Sebastian stepped out of the woods, heading toward the nearest town.

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit room at a modest inn, Kaecilius sat cross-legged on a worn mat, his eyes half-closed. The air was heavy with the scent of damp wood and salt. He was deep in conversation with shadowed figures—emissaries of the Dark Church, devotees of Dormammu, the lord of the Dark Dimension.

Kaecilius held them in quiet disdain. Their believe was rigid, their minds small. Yet, they offered access to the Dark Dimension's power—a force he believed could fulfill his dream: a world of peace, free from chaos and suffering. Science had failed humanity; magic was his path forward. The Dark Church, for all its flaws, was a means to an end.

As he prepared to meditate, a prickle of unease stirred him. His head snapped to the right. The window, previously shut, now stood open, its frame silent as if moved by unseen hands. A figure stood there, cloaked in islander garb, a golden-red mask glinting beneath a hood.

Kaecilius surged to his feet, hands forming a mystic seal. He thrust them forward, summoning black tendrils from the void, their inky forms lashing toward the intruder.

The masked figure raised his hands, and the air shimmered. Water vapor coalesced into sinuous, serpent-like streams, their forms as solid as flesh. They met the tendrils in a clash, both forces unraveling in a burst of dissipated energy.

Kaecilius didn't pause. His hands wove another seal, conjuring a fiery magic circle above his palms, its threads pulsing with heat. But the intruder was faster. The scattered water vapor reformed, shaping into two rows of jagged, blood-red shark teeth, upper and lower, snapping through the air toward Kaecilius.

He shifted the fiery circle into a shield, its glow flaring against the teeth's assault. To his shock, the shield buckled under their force, cracks spiderwebbing across its surface. Kaecilius braced for a desperate escape, his mind racing.

Then, abruptly, the teeth dissolved, collapsing back into harmless mist. The intruder lowered his hands, the attack ceasing as swiftly as it began.

Kaecilius's eyes narrowed, wary. The figure reached up, removing the hood and mask, revealing a face he knew well.

"Sebastian?" Kaecilius's voice wavered, caught between relief and suspicion.

"Long time no see, Kaecilius," Sebastian said, his tone calm but firm.

Kaecilius exhaled, sinking onto the bed. He didn't fully trust Sebastian's intentions—friend or not, their paths had diverged. But he knew Sebastian's power. If Sebastian meant him harm, resistance would be futile. He let his guard drop, if only slightly.

"How did you find me?" Kaecilius asked, his voice low. "Did the Ancient One send you?"

Sebastian noted the title—Ancient One. Kaecilius hadn't forsaken Kamar-Taj entirely. The black magic had warped his ideals, but a thread of loyalty remained. There was hope yet.

"Kaecilius," Sebastian said, stepping closer, "come back with me."

Kaecilius fell silent, his gaze dropping to the floor. After a moment, he shook his head. "I can't. Not since I chose black magic. The Ancient One warned me—showed me the paths I could take. I chose this one, and it's changed me. Not for the better. I know that. Kamar-Taj isn't my place anymore."

"Then what's your plan?" Sebastian asked, his tone even but searching.

Kaecilius's eyes hardened. "I'm joining the Dark Church. I'll master black magic—go deeper. I want to bring peace, Sebastian. True peace, for everyone. Science has failed. Magic's my only way. The Dark Church offers power I need."

"So, it's power you're after?" Sebastian said, cutting to the core. "To chase your dream?"

"Yes," Kaecilius admitted, unflinching. "I need stronger magic."

Sebastian's lips curved faintly, a glint of resolve in his eyes. "If that's all you want, come with me. I can teach you magic far beyond what the Dark Church knows. But there's a price—your freedom. You'd work for me. Equal exchange, Kaecilius. You know the principle. Those Dark Church zealots? They're nothing compared to what I can offer."

Kaecilius hesitated, his eyes flickering with doubt. "But…"

Sebastian saw the crack in his resolve and pressed forward, his voice steady but piercing. "You might think joining the Dark Church will grant you access to the Dark Dimension—Dormammu's power. But remember what we saw when we fought them. Those zealots weren't human anymore, twisted into half-ghosts by the Dark Dimension's taint. Do you really believe you'd stay true to your dream if you took that power? Even if you held onto your ambition, could you swear it wouldn't twist into something monstrous—destroying humanity in the name of peace?

Dormammu has no love for Earth. He wants it swallowed into his realm, mankind erased. Do you think you could stand against him?"

Sebastian's words struck like hammers, shattering Kaecilius's fragile hope. He sighed, slumping against the wall, his defiance fading. "So, Sebastian… can you truly give me the power I need? Can you help me walk further down magic's path?"

"If you trust me, come with me," Sebastian said, his tone unwavering. "I can't promise your dream will come true, but I can guarantee you'll gain power—unrestrained, raw magic—stronger than anything the Dark Church could offer."

Kaecilius fell silent, his gaze distant. Then, resolve hardened in his eyes. He stood, stepping toward Sebastian, and clasped his outstretched hand. "From now on, I'm your follower, Mage Shaw. I'll carry out your orders. That's the price for your teachings."

Sebastian's lips curved into a faint smile. "Deal."

The door burst open, wood splintering under force. Two men in local garb stood in the threshold, their eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Kaecilius!" one barked. "Who's this? Explain, or we won't be polite!"

Sebastian glanced at Kaecilius, his voice calm. "Dark Church?"

Kaecilius nodded. "Yes. They're the ones I was meeting. I was supposed to follow them to their temporary headquarters, but that's over now."

Sebastian gave a curt nod. Beneath the men's feet, the wooden floor pulsed with life. Vines erupted, coiling like serpents, binding the Dark Church zealots in a writhing grip. Their shouts choked off as the tendrils tightened.

Sebastian's wand materialized, its tip glowing faintly. He cast Legilimency, green threads of light weaving from the wand, piercing the zealots' eyes, ears, and mouths. The spell burrowed into their minds, ripping forth every secret of the Dark Church—locations, plans, names.

When he lowered the wand, the men collapsed, their faces streaked with tears and drool, minds shattered beyond repair. Sebastian's expression didn't waver. Their memories—vile acts of cruelty and betrayal—justified their fate. Mercy was more than they deserved.

He turned to Kaecilius, a glint in his eye. "Interested in taking down their headquarters?"

Kaecilius's lips twitched, a spark of his old fire returning. "Your will, Mage Shaw."

"Good. Let's move."

Sebastian slipped on the Ring of Harnessing Power, its faint hum syncing with his pulse. With a wave of his wand, a golden portal flared open. He and Kaecilius stepped through, emerging in the dimly lit cabin of a cargo freighter, its steel walls vibrating with the hum of engines. The ship cut through the Atlantic, a mobile fortress for the Dark Church.

Sebastian had seen it all in the zealots' minds: the freighter was a hive of Dark Church operatives. Non-members had been expelled or killed, their bodies cast into the sea. No innocents remained—only enemies. Sebastian felt no hesitation as he strode toward the captain's room, where the Church's leaders convened. Strike the head, and the body would crumble.

Meanwhile, a shadowed figure emerged from the ocean, water streaming off his form. Gripping a gleaming trident, he scaled the freighter's hull with ease, his movements fluid as the tide. Reaching the deck, he paused, eyes narrowing as he sensed his target. With a nod, he moved forward, his steps silent but purposeful.

Two patrolling Dark Church members spotted him, raising their rifles. Before they could fire, the figure hurled his trident. It sliced through the air, piercing one man's chest and pinning him to a steel wall, lifeless. The second zealot opened fire, bullets sparking against the figure's skin as if striking iron. Light firearms were useless against him—only heavy weapons might pose a threat.

The surviving zealot froze, stunned. The Dark Church had wielders of strange powers, but none could shrug off bullets like this. Panic seized him, and he turned to flee, shouting for aid. Before he could take a step, the figure surged forward, seizing his throat. With a twist, he snapped the man's neck, the body crumpling to the deck.

The figure retrieved his trident, shaking off the corpse. His gaze locked on the captain's room—the same destination as Sebastian and Kaecilius. With the weapon slung across his back, he advanced, a predator closing in.

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Author's Note:

Guess Who?