CHAPTER 152: THE SORCERER KAECILIUS

Wanda couldn’t help but let out a faint laugh. So this confused, scruffy middle-aged man... was actually the terrifying monster from earlier?

Meanwhile, a mysterious sorcerer who had been silently observing the battlefield made a swift gesture with his hand and vanished into the twisting air. In the next moment, he reappeared in a special realm—parallel to the real world but entirely separate from it: the Mirror Dimension.

A broad street unfolded beneath his feet, stretching endlessly forward as if he had transcended the laws of physics. He glided effortlessly above it, like gravity itself had lost interest in applying to him.

But then... things started to get weird.

The space surrounding him began to fold in on itself. The towering skyscrapers flanking him shifted unnaturally, sliding sideways in perfect symmetry before tilting upwards at a crisp ninety degrees, forming vertical walls. Pedestrians and cars on the street mirrored this change, continuing to move as if nothing unusual had occurred—except now, they were heading up.

The road beneath his feet curved, folding into a complete 180-degree arc, trapping him like a fish inside a bowl.

Yes—this space was a cage, closing in on him from all directions.

"So... Kaecilius the Sorcerer?" A cold, synthesized voice echoed beside Kaecilius’s ear. "Don’t be in such a hurry to leave. I don’t think we’ve really had a proper conversation yet."

Kaecilius turned.

Descending from the sky was a sleek, obsidian-black mech suit, its V-shaped visor gleaming with crimson light.

Gene Mason.

Kaecilius—once a gifted disciple of Kamar-Taj. He had studied under the Ancient One, all in the desperate hope of resurrecting his deceased wife and child. But the deeper he delved into the mystical arts, the more he realized: it was impossible. His desire could never be fulfilled through traditional magic.

So, he turned to what was forbidden.

He became fascinated with a darker force—one that the Ancient One had explicitly warned against. Eventually, Kaecilius pledged himself to a entity from the Dark Dimension

—the dread entity Dormammu.

And now, standing before him, was the man-machine hybrid who had unraveled all of it.

"I’ve heard of you, Gene Mason," Kaecilius said softly, eyeing him. "You and the Ancient One have very different philosophies. I believe we might actually work well together."

"Then you should’ve sent me an invitation much earlier," Gene replied coldly, his visor flashing. "Instead, you went to all that trouble to steal machines from my company. You even hired smugglers to do your dirty work. What’s the matter—afraid your stench might tip off the Sorcerer Supreme?"

Gene had never been a recruitable ally—not in Kaecilius’s eyes, and certainly not in reality. Even before meeting him face-to-face, Kaecilius had heard whispers of Gene’s time in Kamar-Taj. A brilliant magical talent, yes—but one completely lacking reverence. Gene worshiped no entity, pledged himself to no dimension. Neither the Triumvirate of white magic, nor Dormammu himself, would ever earn Gene’s loyalty.

Gene believed in one thing, and one thing only: himself.

"Let me guess," Gene continued, voice razor-sharp. "You stole my machines because you thought they’d help you open a gateway to the Dark Dimension. That way, your master Dormammu could cross over—without tripping any alarms at the Sanctums, right?"

Kaecilius chuckled darkly. "Exactly. If that nosy little detective hadn’t stumbled upon our operation, our lord would already have descended into this world."

"No, not a coincidence," Gene interrupted coldly. "You think she just happened to get involved? I sent her. Every question she asked, every breadcrumb she followed—that was all me."

He’d told Wanda once that he had professionals investigating the matter. That "professional" was Jessica Jones.

If Jessica’s investigative prowess was even half as good as the New York Times claimed, she’d be an invaluable asset to S.W.O.R.D. But Gene had also heard she had a difficult personality—and a strict policy: she never accepted jobs from corporations, and she hated weird, messy cases.

Unfortunately for her, this one checked both boxes.

So Gene... got creative.

He’d arranged for Jessica’s landlord to pretend he had a missing nephew named Ed, and then "hired" Jessica to find him. A little data manipulation, a few forged files—and presto, that conveniently missing person became Jessica’s landlord’s son.

This way, Gene could assess her abilities—and decide if she was worth recruiting into S.W.O.R.D.

All voluntary, of course.

"You hid your presence as best you could," Gene said icily. "You brought in smugglers to steal my machines, then killed every last one of them afterward. Kaecilius... you might be a decent sorcerer, but you are one pathetic criminal."

Kaecilius’s eyes narrowed. "Maybe those aren’t my strengths... but none of that matters now."

He stepped forward, voice dark and threatening.

"Because this is where everything ends. Dormammu is coming to this dimension—our great lord will soon be here."

Black magic began to pour from his body, forming indistinct but deadly-looking weapons, each pulsating with dark energy.

"I think we’re past the point of discussion," Kaecilius muttered. "I’ll just finish you off first."

Confidence radiated from him.

Ever since drawing strength from Dormammu and mastering forbidden spells, Kaecilius believed there was no one on Earth—aside from the Ancient One herself—who could stand against him.

And certainly not some cold, expressionless machine.

Gene didn’t say a word. His V-shaped visor flickered once—and then he made a gesture with his fingers.

A clear challenge:

Bring it on.

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T/N:

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