CHAPTER 154: DARK DISCIPLES

But it was already too late to say anything now. All Kaecilius could do was desperately dodge the tip of Gene’s sword, trying to keep it away from his vital organs.

"ARGHHH!"

A guttural scream tore from Kaecilius’s throat. Even though he had narrowly avoided a lethal blow, Gene’s blade still punctured a massive hole in his side. Blood gushed from the wound like an open faucet.

Clearly, the injured Kaecilius was no match for Gene. In fact, even an uninjured Kaecilius likely wouldn’t stand a chance. Within just a few exchanges, Kaecilius was already in a precarious state, his body covered in wounds.

But then, something changed.

In the Mirror Dimension, the once-distant buildings now closed in around them again, flames erupting from their surfaces. A group of black-robed sorcerers stepped into the warped realm. Each one bore eerie violet markings around their eyes.

Dormammu’s disciples. Kaecilius’s reinforcements had arrived.

When he defected from Kamar-Taj, Kaecilius hadn’t come alone. He had lured and corrupted a number of other sorcerers to follow the dark deity Dormammu. Though their magical prowess and combat skill didn’t match Kaecilius’s own, they had also been infused with Dormammu’s dark energy—making them dangerous foes nonetheless.

Before Kaecilius could say a word, the disciples stepped forward and drew their weapons, forming a protective wall in front of him. Each weapon was nearly invisible to the naked eye, nearly transparent yet saturated with thick, dark energy.

Their blades shimmered like air—undefined in shape and length, giving them a deadly edge in battle where perception was everything.

The first to charge was a skinny man with an outlandish haircut—half-mohawk, half-electric porcupine. He rushed forward, wildly swinging his weapon at Gene.

His energy? Sure, it was intense.

His technique? Sloppy.

Gene deflected the blow effortlessly, raised his arm, and let his repulsor beam charge. A blinding blue light engulfed the disciple’s head.

BOOM!

With a thunderous crack, the man’s head vanished—vaporized.

The remaining disciples flinched at Gene’s brutal efficiency but pushed forward. Five of them vaulted over their fallen comrade and rushed Gene in unison.

Gene’s V-shaped visor pulsed faintly. Inside his neural network, calculations ran at light-speed—identifying openings in their attacks, optimal strike points, and most efficient kill sequences. His system locked in the best route.

With a flick of his wrist, Gene’s golden sword darted forward like a serpent striking from the shadows. Before the five even knew what happened, the blade had tapped each of their throats.

Gene glided through them like a passing breeze.

The five ran a few more meters—momentum carrying them forward—before collapsing to the ground. Blood gushed from their slit throats. Dead. All of them.

Seven more disciples lunged in from different angles, their translucent weapons slashing toward Gene, surrounding nearly his entire body.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The clash of metal rang out in rapid succession, sparks flying from Gene’s armor.

But nothing penetrated.

The disciples’ eyes widened in horror. Their attacks had no effect on the black armor.

Then came the pain—searing agony from their wrists.

Seven hands dropped to the ground, instantly swallowed up by the surreal floor beneath them.

Their screams echoed through the Mirror Dimension—cut short as Gene’s sword danced again, silencing each voice one by one.

Kaecilius’s grand plan had been simple: send in the dark disciples to overwhelm Gene, giving himself a moment to recover, then rejoin the fight at full strength. A long obsidian spear had already begun to form in his hand.

But then he paused.

What he saw was beyond comprehension.

Gene had become a full-power slaughter machine, effortlessly slicing through Dormammu’s fanatics like wheat before a harvester. Each golden flash, each azure burst of light from his palm cannon, claimed another life.

Kaecilius froze in place. Seconds passed. Hundreds of thoughts raced through his mind.

Then his spear faded into dust. He turned away.

A black portal began to swirl in front of him.

There was no point in charging forward now. That would be suicide.

Fine. He admitted it—he had underestimated Gene Mason. Thought he was just a fast-learning kid with some fancy tech-magic hybrid tricks. But tonight’s battle proved otherwise.

Gene Mason was a monster.

A terrifying force—perhaps the greatest threat to exist aside from the Ancient One herself.

Kaecilius stood motionless a moment longer before finally making up his mind...

Escape was the only option.

After all, someone had to live to serve the great Dormammu, right?

Back on the battlefield, three towering disciples—each built like a tank—engaged Gene in a brutal melee. The air shimmered with the force of their strikes.

FLASH.

One golden arc—one head flew high into the air before hitting the ground.

The remaining two didn’t last much longer. Gene’s attacks were merciless, precise, and unstoppable. Soon, they too collapsed under his assault, their fates sealed.

The Mirror Dimension fell silent.

Every single disciple who had come to Kaecilius’s aid now lay dead or dying.

Gene let out a faint exhale, the energy in his palm dissipating. The golden sword in his hand dissolved into the ether.

He turned back—

No one was there.

Kaecilius... had fled.

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