"You little witch from Midgard, you won't be so lucky this time," Amora said with a seductive smile, her voice laced with mockery as she stared across the battlefield at Wanda.

"How interesting," Wanda replied coldly. "That's exactly what I was thinking."

Technically, this was the third time Wanda and Amora had clashed. In their first encounter, Wanda had completely overwhelmed the ancient sorceress, forcing Amora to flee in disgrace. That defeat had haunted Amora ever since, festering in her pride. Their second battle had revolved around Professor Selvig. While Wanda appeared to have the upper hand, Amora ultimately succeeded in abducting the professor—giving her a slight edge, even if it came at a cost.

Now, both women subconsciously treated this as their final confrontation. Neither intended to leave room for retreat. It was do-or-die.

From their previous skirmishes, Wanda had learned a painful lesson: when it came to the finesse of sorcery, she was still outmatched by the ancient enchantress who had likely lived for centuries. So she altered her strategy. Channeling her chaos magic into a weapon, she launched herself toward Amora with deadly precision.

Amora, too, remembered the last time she underestimated Wanda's close-combat tactics—an experience that left her flustered and nearly defeated. If not for the Executioner's intervention, she might've lost then and there. So this time, Amora had come prepared. She kept her distance, constantly shifting her position and unleashing wave after wave of magic to stall Wanda's approach and disrupt her attacks.

The two witches danced across the battlefield, their chase moving from the ground to the sky. Streaks of green and red light laced through the air, weaving intricate patterns of destruction and power. Amora unleashed her most refined magical strikes, but Wanda met them with equally intricate counters, using chaos magic to neutralize each spell with elegant precision. However, the distance between them remained too wide. Wanda's long-range attacks lacked the force to truly threaten her opponent. For now, she was at a disadvantage.

Above the ancient castle, their magic streaks twisted like ethereal ribbons—green and red spiraling and clashing in midair. Then, almost simultaneously, they dropped back down into the castle itself. Wanda spotted her chance. Condensing chaos energy into a crimson blade, she slashed it fiercely at Amora's abdomen.

But there was no blood, no scream.

The moment her blade connected, Wanda knew she'd been tricked. The Amora before her dissolved into thick green mist, which surged toward her in a swirling mass.

Wanda's pupils contracted. In an instant, her chaos magic exploded outward, forming a translucent, egg-shaped barrier around her. The green smoke slammed against the shield and dispersed into a massive gust, tearing apart the chamber around them.

Unseen behind her, Amora emerged with a frown. Seeing Wanda untouched, she smirked with annoyance. "You really are a troublesome little girl."

"Right back at you," Wanda said, turning around to face her.

Suddenly, the entire battlefield seemed to freeze.

All combatants paused mid-action. A surge of immense energy rippled through the air, impossible to ignore. They turned their eyes toward the source—a blinding blue beam erupting from the castle's heart, piercing the clouds and sky itself. For a moment, it felt as if the heavens were cracking under the strain, as fractures formed like spiderwebs in the fabric of the sky.

A wave of cold swept out in all directions. The temperature plummeted. Even Captain Supreme noticed frost forming with every breath he exhaled.

"What are you trying to do?!" Wanda demanded, her voice sharp as she glared at the beam splitting the heavens. "Is this the reason you kidnapped Professor Selvig?!"

"Well, since you're so eager to know," Amora said, resting her hands on her hips with a coy smile, "I might as well enlighten you. Long, long ago—far before Midgard or even Asgard wrote their first histories—the world was a realm of complete and utter darkness. The Nine Realms had not yet separated. There was no light, no life. Only chaos."

"Eventually, the realms were divided and suspended upon the World Tree, Yggdrasil. It gave birth to the various forms of life you now know. Midgard, the very land beneath your feet," she said, pointing downward, "lies at the center of that ancient tree. Or rather, it occupies what was once the very heart of the undivided world."

"And what I intend to do," Amora said, twirling a golden lock of hair around her finger, "is return it all to how it was. Before the separation. Before the light. One unified world. A new continent."

"That way… it'll be far easier to rule."

"Unifying the Nine Realms? Are you serious?" Wanda floated into the sky, her body glowing with a raging aura of chaos magic. "You sound just like another fool I once knew. Obsessed with world domination, stuck in 20th-century delusions. But you—your ideas are even more outdated. You belong in the Stone Age."

"Hahahaha! Oh, child…" Amora laughed, green sparks crackling at her fingertips. "And here I thought you were the mature one." She hurled a searing bolt of magic at Wanda.

With a flick of her hand, Wanda dispersed the spell like smoke.

She narrowed her eyes. "Let me guess—after combining the realms, you plan to crown yourself their ruler? How original."

"Close," Amora purred, her voice thick with amusement. "But the one who'll sit on that throne isn't me. Clearly, you're still far too naïve."

Her body shimmered—and then there were seven of her. Illusions, or perhaps something more. Each figure surrounded Wanda from a different angle, locking her in a magical formation.

The final battle had only just begun.

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T/N:

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