[Marvel's Hogwarts Professor] Chapter 636 - 640

Chapter 636: The Contract

Whoosh!

A violent gust of magical energy propelled Harvey unceremoniously from the shop. He cried out as he tumbled to the cobblestone street, clutching the thin black book tightly in his hand. A fleeting flash of resentment crossed his features before quickly transforming into intense curiosity.

Why had the shop owner's demeanor changed so abruptly? More puzzling still, why had he provided such a valuable tome without demanding payment?

Harvey examined the book in his grip, the proprietor's ominous warning echoing in his mind. An involuntary shudder passed through him, causing his right hand to momentarily weaken. The black volume slipped from his grasp, landing on the ground with a sound too soft for its apparent significance. Alarmed by his carelessness, he hastily retrieved it.

His fingers hesitated at the cover's edge, reluctant to open the first page despite his burning curiosity.

The free ones are always the most expensive, he reminded himself. There are no gifts without hidden costs.

These were fundamental truths Harvey understood perfectly well. And yet...

Remembering Vermila's tantalizing description of a freedom-granting methodology, avarice flickered across his expression. Sugar-coated bullets, he thought wryly. I'll look at the sweetness without touching the danger.

Just a brief examination, nothing more. He wouldn't commit to anything.

Decision made, Harvey carried the mysterious black book toward a nearby independent bookshop catering to magical scholars. After swiping his arcane payment card, he secured a private study chamber designed for focused magical research.

Seated at the polished oak table, he opened the black book with trembling anticipation.

The first page contained minimal text:

Little Freedom Methodology

This secret technique is designed to help every sorcerer claim their rightful freedom.

However, true liberation requires collective effort.

Hence, it has been named the Little Freedom Methodology.

Compiled by Earth's Independent Sorcerers

Beneath this brief introduction appeared several simple illustrations that seemed strangely hypnotic despite their apparent simplicity.

Harvey found himself momentarily bewildered. He recognized each individual word and comprehended their syntactical arrangement, yet somehow their collective meaning remained elusive. The text contained subtle undertones that eluded direct comprehension, and he detected vague contradictions within the seemingly straightforward declaration.

Without dwelling on his confusion, he turned to the second page.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Harvey's breathing quickened noticeably, his eyes growing increasingly luminous as they fixed upon the text of the second page:

"The wellspring of a sorcerer's power originates from Vishanti's bestowal, with this connection fundamentally established through contractual obligation."

"Should we consider this contract as a passageway, Vishanti maintains complete authority to open or close it at will, while practitioners possess merely the capacity for acceptance without possibility of refusal."

"Such inequitable arrangements inherently constrain magical practitioners."

"Direct severance of contractual bonds remains impossible, as we require Vishanti's continued magical sustenance."

"Alternative approaches exist, however—we can obscure the contract, temporarily interrupting the connection."

"Magic embodies fundamental fairness; we too should exercise the privilege of contractual engagement or disengagement."

"Just as we maintain the inherent right to choose belief or disbelief."

"Freedom of spiritual conviction represents the rightful aspiration of every magical practitioner."

"The Little Freedom Methodology enables contractual transformation, allowing opening, closing, or obscuring of Vishanti's perception at the practitioner's discretion."

"Note: This methodology reflects extensive research by numerous Earth-based practitioners and remains under continuous development. The current iteration applies specifically to contractual arrangements between Vishanti and Kamar-Taj adherents."

"Additional variants forthcoming."

The second page's explanatory text struck a resonant chord within Harvey's consciousness.

Divine theft! The phrase materialized unbidden in his thoughts.

Indeed, despite the elaborate rhetoric concerning freedom and equitable treatment, any reasonably perceptive sorcerer could discern the methodology's true purpose. It represented nothing less than the systematic pilfering of divine power.

The technique promised to transform existing contractual arrangements, effectively blinding divine awareness while siphoning not merely magic, but divine essence itself.

The concluding notation made the targeted nature unmistakable—specifically applicable to Vishanti-Kamar-Taj contractual arrangements. Even the most obtuse observer could recognize its deliberate focus on undermining Kamar-Taj.

Suddenly, Harvey perceived the black book in his hands as uncomfortably hot, like holding smoldering charcoal.

After momentary hesitation, he continued turning pages. Just examining it, he reassured himself. I'll surrender it to Kamar-Taj authorities afterward.

He proceeded to the third page, immediately noticing its distinctive appearance—brown parchment markedly different from previous pages.

"Execute confidentiality agreement to receive complete Little Freedom Methodology without financial obligation."

I knew it, Harvey lamented inwardly, cursing softly. Nothing comes without cost.

Without hesitation, he attempted to bypass this page, only to discover that subsequent pages remained stubbornly blank—invisible text clearly contingent upon contractual acceptance.

After deploying several revealing spells through his sling ring and discovering their complete ineffectiveness, Harvey reluctantly returned to the parchment contract page, scrutinizing its specific provisions.

"The Little Freedom Methodology represents the culmination of extensive research by Earth's independent practitioners—a monumental breakthrough in magical civilization."

"It signifies a critical evolutionary juncture, marking practitioners' transition from divine dependence to self-determination."

Harvey nearly scoffed aloud at the grandiose declarations preceding the actual contractual terms. Why did such allegedly noble intentions sound so suspiciously like propaganda?

Continuing to the contract's substantive provisions, he suddenly comprehended the shop owner's earlier frustration:

"As emblematic of magical civilization's advancement, recipients must safeguard this methodology with appropriate reverence. Given its developmental stage and vulnerability to hostile interference, protective measures remain essential. Only contractually bound practitioners may access its contents, with arbitrary dissemination strictly prohibited."

"The Little Freedom Methodology currently exists in preliminary form, requiring expanded practitioner participation. Each recipient must transmit this methodology to minimum one additional practitioner, with no maximum limitation."

"The Little Freedom Methodology constitutes collective property of Earth's magical community. Any practitioner of appropriate aspiration may access and implement it. Requests for instruction cannot be refused."

Harvey's bewilderment transformed into sudden clarity. The shop owner's profane reaction and seemingly inexplicable generosity stemmed from contractual obligation—anyone requesting the methodology could not be refused.

In essence, obtaining the secret technique would subject Harvey to identical constraints. He would either actively promote its dissemination or, like the reluctant shop owner, passively distribute it when approached.

At minimum, he would be required to transmit the methodology to one additional practitioner.

Beyond this propagation requirement, the contract contained only basic confidentiality provisions. No additional substantive terms appeared.

Secrecy and promotion—two diametrically opposed concepts inexplicably juxtaposed within this mysterious agreement.

Objectively, the contractual burden appeared relatively minimal, perhaps even negligible.

With Harvey's analytical capabilities, he immediately recognized the potential consequences should such a methodology proliferate throughout Kamar-Taj. The implications were simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating. Such knowledge could fundamentally alter the relationship between sorcerers and their divine patrons.

His thoughts raced through potential scenarios, weighing personal advantage against institutional loyalty. After brief hesitation, determination crystalized in his expression.

Harvey summoned his spiritual essence, infusing it into the contractual parchment, and inscribed his name.

The moment his signature completed, the pages beyond the contract suddenly rippled with visible text, complex diagrams materializing with striking clarity. The book itself pulsed briefly with amber energy that traveled up his arm, creating a momentary sensation of warmth through his entire body.

What Harvey failed to notice was the subtle magical thread that extended from the book, traversing dimensional boundaries to connect with a complex web of similar filaments—all originating from identical black volumes dispersed throughout the magical community.

At the nexus of this expanding network, Grindelwald observed another successful propagation with profound satisfaction. The Little Freedom Methodology served multiple purposes beyond its stated intent. While it did indeed offer practitioners independence from Vishanti's oversight, more importantly, it created a network of magical connections that would, when properly activated, provide him with unprecedented power drawn from hundreds—soon thousands—of unwitting participants.

The Ancient One would soon detect this growing threat, as would Asgard. Their inevitable confrontation would create the perfect diversion while he pursued the Celestial embryo. The real beauty of his plan lay in its apparent disconnection—none would recognize how these seemingly separate conflicts were intricately orchestrated components of a singular, masterful design.

From the depths of the Eye of Agamotto, Doctor Strange's true consciousness recoiled in horror as he glimpsed another fragment of Grindelwald's true intentions. The dark wizard wasn't merely seeking godhood—he was systematically dismantling the magical safeguards that protected reality itself.

Chapter 637: Kamar-Taj's Dilemma

Within the sanctified halls of Kamar-Taj, Elder Byrne's expression darkened progressively as he reviewed the reports accumulating on his desk. Each document detailed another concerning development in this growing crisis.

"Report: Investigation confirms fifteen practitioners currently implementing the forbidden Little Freedom Methodology within the New York Sanctum."

"Report: Investigation confirms twenty-one practitioners currently implementing the forbidden Little Freedom Methodology within the London Sanctum."

"Report: Evidence indicates additional unauthorized methodology circulation within Hong Kong Sanctum..."

The reports continued unabated, each more troubling than the last.

Elder Byrne, Chief Enforcer of Kamar-Taj's mystical regulations, stared grimly at the junior sorcerer who had delivered these disturbing findings. His weathered features contorted with barely suppressed fury.

These fallen sorcerers are deliberately courting annihilation, he thought, rage building as he contemplated their audacity in openly disseminating such dangerous knowledge.

What particularly incensed him was the insidious packaging of this subversive methodology—wrapped in seductive rhetoric about "freedom," "magical civilization's advancement," "fairness," "independence," and "protecting Earth." Such calculated language specifically targeted impressionable young practitioners and apprentices.

Byrne had to acknowledge the psychological effectiveness of these positive framing devices. Had such concepts been promoted by legitimate authorities—governmental institutions or Kamar-Taj itself—he would have found nothing objectionable about them.

The fundamental perversity lay in their source—fallen sorcerers whose practices were characterized by bloodshed, cruelty, and malevolence. Based on his extensive knowledge of David and his associates, such sophisticated propaganda seemed utterly incongruous with their established methodologies.

David possessed skills in rebellion and discord, certainly—but this level of ideological sophistication suggested something altogether more dangerous.

This isn't mere rumor-mongering, Byrne realized. This represents precise, calculated subversion.

One assertion after another—magical civilization, Earth sorcerers, equitable treatment, independence from divine constraints—each statement designed to fracture Kamar-Taj's unity and introduce chaos into their ranks. The fallen sorcerers showed no hesitation in attempting to lure Kamar-Taj practitioners toward darker patrons.

What truly malevolent timing, Byrne thought bitterly. Just as we face imminent conflict with Asgard.

He recognized this for what it was: conspiracy. Naked, unambiguous conspiracy.

His eyes narrowed dangerously as he contemplated appropriate countermeasures.

"Elder Byrne," the reporting sorcerer continued, "our investigation has identified seventy-six practitioners who have either accessed or implemented the Little Freedom Methodology."

The young sorcerer shifted uncomfortably. "However, given the methodology's inherently secretive nature, we cannot discount the possibility of practitioners concealing their involvement—particularly senior sorcerers familiar with our investigative protocols. When combined with the contractual propagation requirements embedded within the Little Freedom Methodology, we face a potentially extensive and deeply concealed network."

Byrne remained silent for several moments, absorbing this assessment.

With a casual gesture, he dismissed the junior sorcerer. "I understand. Return to your duties. Keep all enforcement personnel at heightened readiness."

"Yes, Elder," the young sorcerer responded with a respectful bow before departing.

Alone with his thoughts, Byrne's expression grew colder, more calculating. Someone extraordinary had clearly joined the fallen sorcerers' ranks—someone whose strategic acumen surpassed anything they had previously encountered.

He had to acknowledge their tactical advantage; Kamar-Taj found itself reacting to their initiative rather than proactively addressing the threat. Nevertheless, the fallen sorcerers appeared to have overlooked a fundamental principle: against overwhelming mystical force, even the most intricate conspiracies disintegrated into insignificance.

Decision made, Byrne raised his hand in a precise gesture. A portal ringed with crimson flames materialized before him, revealing the Bamboo Forest Teahouse—the Ancient One's preferred sanctuary for contemplation.

This situation transcended the enforcement division's typical jurisdiction. When fallen sorcerers adopted entirely new methodologies—ones exponentially more dangerous than their previous approaches—immediate intervention became imperative. Every passing moment only heightened the peril.

Byrne would willingly bear potential criticism or censure for circumventing proper channels. This threat demanded the Ancient One's direct attention.

Within the tranquil confines of the Bamboo Forest Teahouse, the Ancient One sat with characteristic serenity, methodically placing select tea leaves into an exquisite porcelain pot before adding perfectly heated water with practiced grace. Her expression remained placid, the faint smile that typically adorned her features undimmed by worldly concerns.

Across from her, Elder Byrne maintained a rigid posture, his customary formality undiminished despite the urgency of his visit. He inhaled appreciatively as delicate tea fragrance permeated the space.

"Speak your mind, Byrne," the Ancient One prompted gently. "Rarely have I seen you in such evident haste, appearing unbidden at my doorstep."

Byrne's serious expression briefly yielded to a rueful smile at her gentle teasing.

"Sorcerer Supreme, I fear I must request your direct intervention," he stated without preamble. "We face an increasingly precarious situation."

"Indeed?" she responded softly. "Define 'precarious.'"

"Lockhart has informed me of our deteriorating relations with Asgard," Byrne explained. "Conflict appears increasingly inevitable."

He leaned forward slightly. "Simultaneously, the fallen sorcerers have initiated a new stratagem—systematically disseminating a forbidden methodology designed to undermine our collective resolve. We've confirmed nearly a hundred practitioners have been exposed, with an unknown number potentially concealing their involvement."

His expression grew grimmer. "We face simultaneous external and internal threats at a moment when unity remains our most critical asset."

"This forbidden methodology," the Ancient One inquired with apparent curiosity, "possesses sufficient potency to destabilize Kamar-Taj's morale?"

Without hesitation—having anticipated this question—Byrne produced the black volume containing the Little Freedom Methodology and placed it before the Ancient One.

"This represents the immediate threat, Sorcerer Supreme," he declared emphatically. "Its potential damage exceeds even that posed by Asgardian aggression if left unchecked."

"Allow me to examine it," she replied, gesturing toward Byrne's untouched teacup. "Please, refresh yourself while I review the contents."

The teapot tilted of its own accord, filling Byrne's cup with amber liquid.

The Ancient One opened the black book, methodically reviewing its contents. As she progressed through the pages, the subtle smile never left her face.

How fascinating, she thought. Lockhart's mysterious associate demonstrates remarkable ingenuity.

Minutes passed in silence while Byrne grew increasingly restless. The Ancient One had clearly finished reading yet offered no immediate commentary.

"Sorcerer Supreme," he finally ventured, unable to contain himself further, "your assessment of this 'Little Freedom Methodology'?"

"The approach demonstrates considerable sophistication," she replied thoughtfully. "However, its limitations are equally apparent."

"Limitations?" Byrne asked, surprised. "I failed to identify any significant weaknesses."

"Naturally," she acknowledged with gentle understanding. "The methodology's primary limitation lies in its extreme specificity. It targets precisely the contractual arrangement between Kamar-Taj and Vishanti."

"Its universal applicability remains severely constrained—effective solely against the particular mystical contract governing our relationship with Vishanti. The creator clearly devoted years to studying our contractual specifics; nearly every countermeasure demonstrates remarkable precision."

Why is she praising this dangerous methodology? Byrne wondered silently.

Perceiving his confusion, the Ancient One tempered her assessment. "Such specificity represents both strength and vulnerability. We need only modify our contractual arrangement with Vishanti to render this methodology entirely ineffective."

She gestured dismissively. "Any adaptations would require extensive research and significant time investment. The immediate threat can be neutralized relatively easily."

Byrne nodded with dawning comprehension. Kamar-Taj could invalidate the methodology's effectiveness whenever necessary.

Nevertheless, his concerns persisted.

"Sorcerer Supreme, these fallen sorcerers still represent a significant threat. Should they refine this methodology to increase its versatility..."

"Their efforts clearly intend to fracture Kamar-Taj from within," he continued urgently. "Their rhetoric about freedom, fairness, Earth sorcerers—"

"Sufficient, Byrne," the Ancient One interrupted gently. "What specific intervention do you propose?"

Byrne responded without hesitation. "Sorcerer Supreme, Earth represents Kamar-Taj's rightful domain. If possible, your personal intervention could eliminate these fallen sorcerers entirely."

His voice gained intensity. "This would sever the root and source of this methodology. Particularly with Asgardian aggression looming, internal harmony must take precedence. We must secure our own foundations before confronting external threats."

His appeal concluded with profound sincerity.

However, the Ancient One merely shook her head slightly.

"Byrne, we shall address this matter subsequently," she replied, her tone allowing no further discussion. "Our immediate priority remains preparation for potential conflict with Asgard."

Her unexpected dismissal left Byrne momentarily speechless. As he opened his mouth to protest, a subtle shift in her expression silenced him immediately. Despite her outward serenity, something in her gaze suggested she perceived elements of the situation beyond his understanding.

In the great library of Kamar-Taj, as Byrne departed from the Bamboo Forest Teahouse, Wong paused in his cataloging of mystical texts. A slight frown creased his typically impassive features as he sensed a disturbance in the dimensional energies surrounding Earth—subtle fluctuations that suggested complex magical workings occurring simultaneously across multiple locations.

Something was gradually taking form, like a vast, invisible web slowly encompassing the entire mystical community. The Little Freedom Methodology represented merely a single strand in a far more intricate design.

Meanwhile, in his chamber within David's headquarters, Grindelwald observed these developments with satisfaction. The Ancient One had reacted precisely as anticipated—recognizing the threat but underestimating its true purpose. While Kamar-Taj and Asgard focused on each other, his real objective—the Celestial embryo—remained relatively unguarded.

The true genius of his plan lay not in the methodology itself, but in the contract binding its users. Each signature, each new practitioner connected to his grand design, unknowingly contributing power to the spell matrix he was constructing. When finally activated, it would not merely shield practitioners from Vishanti's oversight—it would redirect that divine power to himself.

Divine theft indeed, but on a scale Harvey and the others could scarcely comprehend.

Chapter 638: Suspicions Rising

Why?

Why would the Ancient One refuse?

Seated alone in his private chambers, Elder Byrne stared vacantly at the wall, his mind churning with confusion. He simply couldn't rationalize the Sorcerer Supreme's inexplicable refusal to intervene against the fallen sorcerers.

Had this concerned the previous contingent of rogue practitioners, her reluctance would have been comprehensible. After all, if the Ancient One personally addressed every minor mystical transgression, what purpose would the enforcement division serve?

But the current circumstances were fundamentally different.

These fallen sorcerers had developed an ideological framework specifically engineered to confuse and seduce. They directly advocated for Kamar-Taj practitioners to align themselves with dark patrons, while simultaneously propagating their bizarre methodology with alarming efficiency.

The potential damage to Kamar-Taj exceeded mere physical threats—this was an assault on their very foundation, their collective identity. And like any insidious corruption, its harm would only intensify with time.

Most critically, this internal threat coincided with imminent external aggression from Asgard. Every military strategist understood the fundamental principle: secure internal cohesion before confronting external enemies.

Yet she refused.

Why?

Byrne's thoughts drifted to troubling rumors circulating within Kamar-Taj—whispers suggesting the Ancient One had sustained grievous injuries during the Dormammu incursion, injuries from which she might not recover.

Reflecting on their recent meeting, however, he recalled her customary composure, her serene countenance betraying no evidence of diminished vitality.

He shook his head vigorously, banishing such disloyal speculations. Impossible. Utterly impossible. The Ancient One had guided Kamar-Taj through countless existential threats across millennia. She was as eternal as the mystic arts themselves.

Nevertheless, despite his conscious rejection of these doubts, a small spark of uncertainty had ignited within him, generating mounting anxiety. He paced restlessly across the polished floor, determination gradually crystallizing.

If the Ancient One could not—or would not—act against this threat, he would fulfill his oath to protect Kamar-Taj, regardless of personal cost.

Decision made, he activated his sling ring with practiced precision. A portal ringed with crimson fire materialized before him, revealing the grand hall of the London Sanctum.

The rapid, purposeful footsteps echoing through the London Sanctum's grand hall belonged to Lockhart, who hurried to keep pace with Byrne's determined stride.

"Byrne, what's happened? You seem uncharacteristically agitated," Lockhart inquired, genuine confusion evident in his tone.

Recent developments had occupied Lockhart's full attention. Through Grindelwald's strategic infiltration, he had acquired numerous valuable insights from the fallen sorcerers—most significantly, their divine initiation ritual designed to facilitate the transformation of spiritual energy.

His studies regarding the integration of magical energy and conceptual resonance in the secondary phase had yielded promising results. Only the third phase—controlling conceptual authority and generating dimensional prototypes—remained exclusively within David's possession, not yet shared with others.

Even without this final component, Lockhart's recent acquisitions were substantial. The memory extraction from Mephisto represented a particularly valuable resource, though its contents remained chaotic and fragmented, requiring methodical analysis to extract usable knowledge.

"Please, sit down, Lockhart." Byrne's earlier agitation had transformed into unnatural composure, a calculated calm that immediately placed Lockhart on alert.

During the brief interval before Lockhart's arrival, Byrne had carefully considered his approach. "There's a matter requiring our immediate discussion."

"What concern brings you here?" Lockhart asked cautiously.

Rather than directly stating his purpose, Byrne adopted a circuitous approach. He needed Lockhart's understanding and support before revealing his true intentions.

"Lockhart, you previously mentioned that regarding the impending conflict, the Ancient One has delegated full operational authority to you," Byrne began methodically.

"I've instructed all enforcement personnel to cooperate comprehensively with your directives," he continued. "By now, you should effectively command most of Kamar-Taj's mystical resources."

This unexpected observation immediately heightened Lockhart's vigilance. While technically accurate, Byrne's summary seemed purposeful rather than merely conversational.

What is his actual objective? Lockhart wondered.

Nevertheless, recognizing Byrne as one of his consistent supporters within Kamar-Taj's hierarchy, Lockhart offered a cautious nod of confirmation.

Byrne received this acknowledgment without surprise. The enforcement division's intelligence reports had thoroughly documented Lockhart's current activities. According to their surveillance, Lockhart had mobilized extensive resources, with the Vientiane World producing magical armaments and supplies at unprecedented rates.

"Lockhart, I must bring a critical situation to your attention," Byrne continued deliberately. "A development that may directly impact our confrontation with Asgard."

"What development?" Lockhart feigned surprise, though inwardly he began to comprehend Byrne's purpose.

How predictable, he thought privately.

"The fallen sorcerers have undergone significant transformation," Byrne explained with increasing intensity. "If we engage Asgard while ignoring their presence, these rogue practitioners will inevitably exploit our divided attention."

His expression hardened with conviction. "Before initiating conflict with Asgard, we must neutralize this internal threat. At minimum, we must significantly diminish their operational capacity. We cannot permit their unconstrained movement during this critical period."

He reiterated his fundamental principle with emphasis: "Before venturing outward, we must secure our foundation."

Arnold, standing nearby, regarded Byrne with a curious expression after hearing his assessment.

While not privy to the specific details of Grindelwald's activities, Arnold maintained sufficient awareness of the situation. Grindelwald had achieved considerable advancement, mastering substantial magical capabilities. Should Lockhart authorize direct intervention, they could neutralize the fallen sorcerers whenever circumstances warranted.

Byrne has indeed approached the perfect person for this objective, Arnold reflected. Though not in the manner he believes.

"Byrne, let's not proceed hastily," Lockhart responded with calculated restraint. "Let's discuss this methodically."

He adopted a mollifying tone. "I fully comprehend your concerns. Rest assured, we've dedicated substantial resources toward locating and capturing these fallen sorcerers."

"Their exceptional concealment combined with recent operational dormancy has complicated our efforts," he explained smoothly. "Mobilizing Kamar-Taj's full resources would require explicit authorization from the Ancient One."

Lockhart gestured apologetically. "My current mandate focuses exclusively on preparations against Asgard. Surely you recognize that Asgard's formidable capabilities have necessarily consumed the majority of my attention."

Byrne's expression betrayed mounting anxiety as he processed Lockhart's polite but unmistakable refusal.

If the Ancient One would consent to this operation, why would I approach Lockhart directly?

What is happening?

Why would Lockhart similarly decline?

While the fallen sorcerers' activities weren't entirely clandestine, neither were they completely transparent. Individuals of the Ancient One's and Lockhart's stature surely recognized the existential danger these rogue practitioners represented.

Yet both had chosen inaction.

This paradox generated profound confusion within Byrne, triggering cascading questions.

Am I missing critical information?

Is the fallen sorcerers' methodology legitimate?

Glancing toward Arnold, Byrne noted his apparent indifference to the entire discussion. That observation caused his confidence to falter further.

"Lockhart," Byrne asked directly, his gaze intensely focused, "is there something beyond my awareness?"

He required answers immediately; otherwise, his disquiet would continue unabated.

Confronted with this direct inquiry, Lockhart hesitated visibly. After careful consideration, he decided to reveal limited information.

"Byrne," he began cautiously, "I assure you everything proceeds according to design."

His voice lowered significantly as he continued, "We require the fallen sorcerers..."

As Lockhart began his explanation, neither man noticed the subtle dimensional distortion near the chamber's ceiling—a nearly imperceptible warping of reality through which Grindelwald observed their exchange with keen interest.

Perfect, thought the dark wizard. Even Kamar-Taj fractures from within. Doubt spreads as intended.

From his vantage point within the Eye of Agamotto, Strange strained to perceive this latest development. Grindelwald's containment enchantment prevented direct interaction, but Strange could sense the dangerous divergence occurring within Kamar-Taj's leadership.

They're playing directly into his hands, Strange realized with mounting dread. While they argue amongst themselves, Grindelwald advances his true agenda unchallenged.

The cosmic chessboard was being methodically arranged, with the Ancient One, Odin, the Eternals, and now Kamar-Taj itself positioned precisely where Grindelwald intended. The Celestial embryo remained the ultimate prize—and the dark wizard's path toward it grew clearer with each passing moment.

Chapter 639: Eternal Confrontation

BOOM!

High above the English countryside, Ikaris hovered in the azure sky, crimson energy beams erupting from his eyes with devastating precision. The concentrated power streaked toward his target below, impacting with thunderous force. A miniature mushroom cloud blossomed at the point of impact, dust and debris billowing outward in concentric waves.

Not far from the epicenter, a fallen sorcerer floated mid-air, naked fear etched across his features—a practitioner who had narrowly evaded obliteration.

In an instant, Ikaris appeared directly before the startled sorcerer, his eyes still smoldering with barely contained power. "You miserable wretch," he snarled, "pray I don't capture you, or I'll demonstrate precisely how life can become worse than death!"

Even as these threats left his lips, the fallen sorcerer—Master Michonne—initiated his counter-offensive. With practiced precision, he rotated his sling ring, channeling mystical energy from his core. The ambient temperature plummeted dramatically as countless dark blue ice needles materialized throughout the surrounding void.

Each needle bore an unsettling characteristic—a thin layer of dark green sigils inscribed across their crystalline surfaces, pulsing with malevolent purpose.

Observing this eldritch attack, Ikaris's expression shifted from confidence to alarm. His preternatural senses detected imminent mortal peril—an unsettling sensation crawling beneath his skin. Instinctively, his body tensed into a defensive posture, entering heightened combat readiness.

Damnable sorcerers, Ikaris inwardly cursed, casting a brief glance groundward to survey additional battlefields. He spotted Sersi engaged with a red-robed sorcerer in particularly intense combat.

Focus, he reminded himself, redirecting attention to his immediate adversary. Their situation had become increasingly precarious. Some unknown force prevented communication with the Celestials and effectively imprisoned them on Earth. Simultaneously, these ambitious sorcerers had begun systematically targeting them for capture.

Their initial encounter had caught the Eternals unprepared, resulting in significant casualties. Despite subsequent vigilance, they remained at a tactical disadvantage—outnumbered by formidable opponents of considerable magical prowess.

This particular confrontation had begun innocuously enough. Ikaris, Sersi, and Kingo had ventured beyond their sanctuary seeking intelligence, only to encounter enemy forces yet again.

Whiiiiir!

With subtle gesticulation, Michonne directed the airborne ice needles toward Ikaris. The deadly projectiles accelerated with unnatural velocity.

Suddenly—

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

A crackling barrier of golden lightning materialized before Ikaris, accompanied by a luminescent shield of pale amber energy. A silver-haired figure emerged silently at his side—Thena, captain of the Eternals.

The ice needles collided against her protective barrier with percussive force, shattering upon impact while the shield remained intact. Both Eternals exhaled with momentary relief.

Their respite proved short-lived. The fallen sorcerer's sinister smile suggested the attack's true purpose remained unrevealed. From each shattered needle emerged wisps of dark green vapor—an intelligent miasma that swirled purposefully toward the Eternals.

Their expressions registered immediate concern. Even minimal contact with the mist produced intense corrosive sensation coupled with progressive paralysis. Direct inhalation would likely prove catastrophic.

"Ajak!" Thena called out without hesitation.

Instantly, waves of healing emerald light radiated outward from their position, neutralizing the poisonous vapor on contact. Ajak, the Eternal with unparalleled healing capabilities, had intervened precisely when needed—detoxification representing merely one facet of her extensive restorative abilities.

Warmth suffused their bodies as energy levels stabilized, prompting expressions of grateful relief.

Michonne's countenance darkened appreciably. His frustration stemmed not merely from his neutralized attack, but from the battlefield's rapidly shifting dynamics below.

Across the ground-based confrontations, streaks of golden lightning indicated strategic reinforcement of previously isolated combat zones—Makkari, the Eternal speedster, had arrived. Having received distress signals, she had mobilized remaining team members for coordinated counterattack.

Grindelwald, still maintaining his flawless Strange disguise, observed the speedster and Sersi with scholarly fascination.

Truly remarkable specimens, he thought. These Eternals present most intriguing capabilities.

Sersi, with her ebony hair flowing like living shadow, exhibited matter manipulation that bordered on miraculous. Her transformative abilities operated with effortless grace—earth becoming metal, metal dissolving into nebulous vapor, atmospheric elements solidifying into stone. Her command over physical matter appeared nearly absolute.

Similarly impressive was Makkari's preternatural velocity—movement approaching lightspeed execution. Each Eternal appeared to possess unique specialized talents rather than generalized abilities.

They resemble magical creatures more than conventional beings, Grindelwald realized. Each with singular, specialized evolutionary adaptations.

Grindelwald's lips curved into subtle satisfaction as additional Eternals emerged into view. Finally, the complete assemblage had arrived—precisely as intended.

With his formidable magical capabilities, subduing Sersi—whose powers, while impressive, lacked offensive versatility—would have been trivial. His calculated delay had been strategic, designed specifically to await full Eternal reinforcement.

Meanwhile, the previous captive had proven most informative during physiological examination.

The Cloak of Levitation undulated with apparent excitement, sensing proximity to its supposed master. From within the Eye of Agamotto, the real Doctor Strange observed with mounting disgust.

Treacherous garment, he thought bitterly. So easily deceived.

Grindelwald raised his right hand skyward in dramatic gesture. Immediately, intricate dark blue geometric patterns manifested across the cerulean expanse above, forming an elaborate magical lattice. The construct rapidly collapsed inward, generating an impenetrable azure barrier that encompassed the entire battlefield.

BOOM!

A flash of golden lightning collided with the barrier's perimeter. Makkari, attempting to breach the enclosure at superluminal velocity, crashed unceremoniously to earth. Her fellow Eternals converged protectively around her fallen form.

"Makkari! Are you injured?" Gilgamesh inquired with evident concern.

"We're trapped," she responded with uncharacteristic alarm. "This is a calculated ambush."

Simultaneously, Michonne and another fallen sorcerer took position behind Grindelwald, regarding the assembled Eternals with undisguised avarice.

Grindelwald advanced with measured steps. Crimson flames erupted from the ground around him, encircling the confrontation zone in perfect circumference. The mystical fire contracted gradually, intensifying the atmosphere's oppressive solemnity.

"Esteemed members of the Eternal race," Grindelwald addressed them with calculated cordiality. "This represents our inaugural meeting."

He gestured toward himself with theatrical modesty. "You may address me as Master Strange."

The ten Eternals rose to standing positions, their expressions registering various degrees of indignation. Superficially, numerical advantage favored their collective—ten against merely three opponents.

However, as Grindelwald continued his advance, perceptible tension radiated through the Eternal ranks. They clearly detected the lethal potential emanating from this strange sorcerer—an intuitive recognition that imprudent action would result in immediate casualties.

"Your extended residence upon Earth spans millennia," Grindelwald observed conversationally, his tone deceptively pleasant. His next words emerged with predatory precision:

"Perhaps the time has arrived to render appropriate compensation."

Behind her impassive expression, Thena calculated potential counteroffensive strategies. The sorcerer before them radiated power unlike anything she had encountered in countless centuries—something fundamentally wrong permeated his magical signature, as though two distinct energies coexisted in uncomfortable symbiosis.

From his mystical imprisonment, Doctor Strange marshaled every fragment of his consciousness toward a singular objective—breaking through Grindelwald's containment to warn the Eternals. If he could communicate even momentarily, perhaps catastrophe might still be averted.

The dark wizard's true goal remained the Celestial embryo. These powerful beings represented merely another game piece on his cosmic chessboard—pawns to be sacrificed in service to ambition beyond comprehension.

As crimson flames contracted further around the assemblage, Phastos cautiously manipulated microscopic technological components embedded within his palm—a desperate attempt to signal Arishem despite the dimensional interference. Their creator needed to know: Earth's Celestial egg faced imminent existential threat.

Chapter 640: Prisoners of Tarot Town

The fallen sorcerers' headquarters in Tarot Town echoed with brisk footsteps as David strode purposefully toward the compound's inner sanctum. His typically measured demeanor had given way to barely contained excitement.

Since recruiting Strange—or rather, the entity he believed to be Strange—David's fortunes had undergone remarkable transformation. Prior to Strange's arrival, calamity had been their constant companion. The Twilight Castle headquarters had fallen, and the defected sorcerers they had painstakingly cultivated had been systematically captured. Their intelligence network within Kamar-Taj's London Sanctum had gone dark. Even Mephisto, their infernal ally, had become mysteriously unreachable.

Strange's introduction had initiated a profound reversal. The fallen sorcerers now possessed a coherent philosophical framework, rebranding themselves as "free sorcerers" and "Earth sorcerers." Under Strange's methodical guidance, newly recruited defectors had integrated seamlessly into their ranks, while the original fallen sorcerers—enticed by the Celestial embryo's immense potential—had begun genuinely respecting David's authority.

Information channels had reopened, providing critical intelligence regarding Kamar-Taj, the Eternals, and other mystical factions. The continuous stream of favorable developments almost created its own form of stress—an embarrassment of riches.

David felt unprecedented confidence regarding their ultimate success. After all, momentum clearly favored their endeavors.

A satisfied smile played across his lips as he approached his destination—the interrogation chamber.

The spacious interrogation facility contained numerous individual containment cells. Each compartment appeared deliberately oppressive—cramped, dimly illuminated, and psychologically intimidating. Dark crimson stains marred the walls, and the pervasive metallic scent of blood lingered throughout the facility. The environment had been specifically designed to destabilize prisoners' mental equilibrium through prolonged exposure.

Within each containment cell, an Eternal had been secured with specialized restraints—each one confined in isolation, imprisoned in strategic darkness.

"Damnable creatures, release me immediately!"

"Contemptible mortals, your extinction approaches!"

"When the Celestials acknowledge your transgressions, your insignificant planet will be obliterated alongside you!"

Various Eternals expressed their defiance through curses and threats, while others maintained resolute silence. From David's perspective, each captive represented another step toward his ultimate ascension.

He halted before a particular cell where "Strange" and two additional sorcerers were interrogating a silver-haired woman—Thena, captain of the Eternals.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Thena strained against the wooden frame securing her, her struggles intensifying with each moment. Her pupils had begun transforming to an alarming milky white.

She was losing control again.

Grindelwald, maintaining his Strange disguise, frowned slightly at this development. With precise sling ring manipulation, he summoned several dark blue ethereal restraints. The mystical bindings encircled Thena, gently lifting her from the wooden frame to hover suspended before him.

"Ah... ah..." Thena's unintelligible murmurs emerged between full-body tremors, consciousness clearly slipping away.

How unfortunate, Grindelwald thought with genuine sympathy. He extended his right hand, index finger lightly touching Thena's forehead. As magical energy flowed between them, his finger trembled perceptibly before withdrawing.

Delicate silver-white threads emerged from the contact point, seemingly endless in their extension. Observing this reaction, Grindelwald modified his approach with practiced efficiency. The Eternal captain gradually regained lucidity.

Upon returning to consciousness, Thena's expression registered profound sadness and disorientation. Her condition—Mahd Wy'ry—had plagued her for centuries. Despite exploring countless potential remedies, resolution had remained elusive.

Yet here, in captivity, she discovered her tormentor possessed knowledge that might liberate her from this affliction. The cruel irony was not lost on her—salvation potentially existing in her enemy's hands.

"Thena," Grindelwald addressed her dispassionately, "your condition's nature cannot be unfamiliar to you."

He gestured subtly toward the interrogation chamber's corner where Gilgamesh remained similarly restrained.

"Without your extraordinary inherent resilience and your companion's palliative interventions, you would have degraded into a mindless instrument of destruction long ago."

From within the Eye of Agamotto, the real Doctor Strange observed with growing comprehension. Grindelwald's masterful psychological manipulation extended to exploiting vulnerabilities he shouldn't even know existed. The dark wizard's capacity for gathering and weaponizing information was truly formidable.

Thena maintained resolute silence, closing her eyes to signal categorical rejection of communication.

Grindelwald continued undeterred, clearly accustomed to this resistance. "Pledge cooperation, and I shall restore your cognitive stability," he offered conversationally. "Furthermore, I'll provide permanent remedial methodology to ensure neither you nor your companions ever face such destabilization again."

Thena's eyes remained firmly shut, her posture communicating absolute refusal.

Suddenly—

Click!

The interrogation chamber door swung open as David entered without ceremony.

"Strange, what's our current status?" he inquired, observing the suspended Eternal with evident curiosity.

Thena briefly opened her eyes to assess the newcomer before deliberately closing them again in dismissal.

Grindelwald gestured subtly, establishing a privacy barrier before responding with apparent frustration. "Chief, we've secured all targets, but interrogation yields minimal progress. The subject remains entirely uncooperative."

"What?" David's expression darkened immediately. "She courts oblivion!"

He shook his head in disbelief. "Every prisoner maintains this intransigence?"

The possibility seemed remote—all ten Eternals demonstrating identical resistance strained credibility. One or two particularly resilient individuals would be plausible, but unanimous defiance suggested coordinated strategy.

A predatory gleam materialized in David's eyes as a solution occurred to him. "Resistance becomes irrelevant with soul extraction," he declared with cold determination. "I refuse to believe even their collective fortitude can withstand comprehensive psychic invasion."

Grindelwald masked his amusement with practiced neutrality. You consider this approach novel? How lacking in imagination.

Maintaining his subservient persona, he responded carefully: "Chief, I fear such methodology proves ineffective in this instance."

He sighed theatrically, capturing David's attention.

"Elaborate," David commanded, curiosity piqued.

"As you correctly surmised, not all prisoners maintain equivalent resistance," Grindelwald explained patiently. "However, those demonstrating cooperation lack access to our required intelligence."

"The Celestial embryo's entrance location remains exclusively within Captain Thena's knowledge domain."

David's impatience surfaced immediately. "Then implement soul extraction on her specifically."

"Chief, I've attempted precisely that approach," Grindelwald countered with apparent resignation. "These entities defy conventional categorization as purely living beings."

He gestured toward the suspended Eternal. "Despite apparent intelligence and autonomy, they fundamentally exist as sophisticated constructs—sentient instruments rather than truly independent life forms."

With practiced solemnity, he delivered the crucial deception: "They possess no conventional souls susceptible to mystical extraction techniques."

This fabrication visibly startled David. "No soul?" he repeated, examining Thena with renewed interest.

Grindelwald dispelled the privacy barrier with casual gesture. "Perhaps you should verify personally, Chief."

Without hesitation, David approached Thena. Placing his hand against her temple, he channeled magical energy inward, attempting to penetrate her consciousness. Thena regarded him with undisguised contempt.

What David couldn't perceive—but Grindelwald orchestrated masterfully—was the subtle magical interference preventing effective soul-reading. Grindelwald maintained the charade while simultaneously ensuring his superior's failure, preserving the Eternals for his own purposes.

Perfect, Grindelwald thought with satisfaction. Let him believe they are soulless constructs, when they are in fact so much more. The Celestial within Earth gestated for millennia, nurtured by humanity's collective energy. These Eternals—created specifically to shepherd that cosmic embryo—represent the perfect tools for accessing its power.

He had captured them not merely to locate the Celestial embryo—Grindelwald had already determined its precise location—but to understand the unique mystical signature that would permit safe extraction of its power without triggering premature emergence.

From his prison within the Eye of Agamotto, Doctor Strange desperately sought any means of communication with the captive Eternals. If he could establish even momentary contact, perhaps he could warn them of Grindelwald's true identity and intentions.

He doesn't want the Celestial destroyed, Strange realized with mounting dread. He intends to harness its power without awakening it—potentially causing even greater cosmic catastrophe.

Meanwhile, Druig—the Eternal with mind manipulation abilities—remained perfectly still in his cell, outwardly subdued while inwardly extending his consciousness toward his fellow captives. Though their telepathic communication remained severely constrained by magical interference, fragmented messages passed between them:

...resist...maintain deception...entity not what appears...

As David continued his futile attempt at soul extraction, Thena maintained her defiant glare—simultaneously receiving Druig's fractured warning about the sorcerer claiming to be Strange.

Something fundamentally wrong about him, she thought. Two consciences somehow occupying the same space.

The Eternals' survival—and potentially Earth's—would depend on maintaining their collective resistance until this mystery could be unraveled.

Thena seethed with silent fury. If her powers and physical capabilities weren't so thoroughly suppressed by these mystical bindings, she would willingly sacrifice her existence to obliterate these presumptuous mortals where they stood.

David remained oblivious to her murderous glare, continuing his exploration with growing fascination at the profound differences between Eternal physiology and human composition.

"They possess no conventional souls," Grindelwald elaborated quietly from beside him. "Instead, they contain analogous structures facilitating cognitive functions and consciousness that mimic ordinary sentience."

He deliberately ignored Thena's contemptuous expression as he continued his calculated deception.

"The artificial nature of these quasi-spiritual configurations is unmistakable. Based on intelligence we've gathered, these entities represent specialized guardians engineered by the Celestials."

Grindelwald's voice lowered conspiratorially. "This individual—Thena—has undergone innumerable memory purges. I suspect she remains unaware of how many Celestial gestation cycles she has overseen throughout her existence."

His tone acquired subtle mockery. "Their shared delusion involves returning to their 'homeland' following the Celestial's emergence. In reality, this homeland likely exists merely as implanted motivation. Upon mission completion, they face not homecoming but memory erasure."

Grindelwald gestured dismissively. "Subsequently, they're redeployed to shepherd another cosmic embryo through its developmental cycle."

David withdrew his hand from Thena's temple, shaking his head with reluctant admiration. "The Celestials' craftsmanship truly transcends comprehension."

"Such prowess befits entities born as gods," he added with genuine awe.

"Indeed," Grindelwald affirmed with convincing sincerity. "However, universal equilibrium demands counterbalance. Their reproductive success rate appears extraordinarily minimal."

He gestured toward Thena. "The numerous memory erasures these guardian constructs have endured indicates extensive failed attempts at Celestial birth."

"Her condition—this progressive mental destabilization—results directly from excessive memory reconfiguration causing irreparable structural disruption."

David nodded appreciatively at this assessment. "The 'Eternal' race," he remarked with audible derision. "Perhaps 'Eternally Enslaved Puppets' would prove more accurate nomenclature."

This psychological warfare continued as they conversed before the captive Eternal, their apparent cooperation reinforcing the narrative they constructed about the Eternals' tragic existence.

Thena's expression reflected disbelief, though inwardly her mind reeled from their assertions. Despite recognizing their manipulative intent, certain elements resonated uncomfortably with questions she had occasionally permitted herself—particularly during periods of clarity between episodes of Mahd Wy'ry.

She closed her eyes in rejection of their propaganda, but their exchanged words continued reverberating within her consciousness, preventing mental equilibrium.

"Captain Thena, attend to me."

With eyes firmly shut, Thena suddenly experienced cold pressure against her central forehead. Her eyelids opened involuntarily against her will.

"Through cooperation," David proposed with seductive reasonableness, "not merely will your team survive intact, but we shall liberate you from Celestial subjugation."

"Consider the Celestials' treatment of your kind, Thena," Grindelwald contributed smoothly. "They offer illusory hope of eventual freedom—a promise perpetually unfulfilled."

His voice acquired practiced compassion. "Meanwhile, you function as mere instruments. With what consequence? Endless guardianship assignments, cyclical memory obliteration..."

"Perpetual servitude as sophisticated constructs," he continued relentlessly. "Is this existence what you desire?"

"Would you condemn your companions to this fate repeatedly? Until they develop your condition—teetering continuously at cognitive collapse's precipice—before being discarded as obsolete components by these cosmic entities?"

Their coordinated rhetorical assault demonstrated remarkable persuasive effectiveness. Even the most obtuse observer would recognize their manipulative eloquence.

After absorbing their arguments, Thena deliberately turned toward Grindelwald, completely ignoring David—a calculated slight that caused visible displeasure to flicker across the fallen sorcerer leader's features.

David restrained his wounded pride, recognizing the critical importance of this interrogation.

"I comprehend your position," Thena finally acknowledged, momentarily raising David's hopes.

"However..."

Grindelwald's expression remained impassive, anticipating her subsequent qualification.

"While I have accessed the Celestial embryo's dimensional space previously, such entry occurred through formal petition to the Celestials themselves. Entry required divine power channeled directly as navigational guidance."

Her expression hardened. "Without Celestial direction, accessing the embryonic dimension remains impossible."

A sardonic smile briefly crossed her features. "I could theoretically petition for such guidance, but would you risk permitting such communication?"

David's expression darkened perceptibly at this suggestion. He understood the implicit threat—allowing these "puppets" to contact their creators might attract unwanted cosmic attention. Being reduced to subatomic particles by an angered Celestial represented a decidedly unappealing prospect.

Based on this realization, David felt renewed uncertainty regarding their course. His original strategy for achieving godhood, while perhaps offering reduced probability of success, suddenly seemed considerably less hazardous.

Before he could voice these reservations, Grindelwald interjected with astonishing confidence: "Naturally, should you submit such petition, we shall accommodate it unequivocally."

David's expression registered stunned disbelief.

As he prepared to object, Grindelwald casually established another privacy barrier between them and their captive.

"Strange," David hissed urgently, "do you comprehend the Celestials' destructive capacity?"

"Should her petition attract Celestial attention, we cannot possibly withstand their response!"

"We cannot—the Ancient One can," Grindelwald countered before David could elaborate further.

"Chief, recall our commitments to the assembled fallen sorcerers. Their unified allegiance depends entirely upon the Celestial embryo's promised benefits."

He pressed his advantage. "Should we abandon pursuit of the Celestial, these practitioners would almost certainly turn against us violently."

"Their collective expectations cannot be disregarded," he continued emphatically. "Withdrawal from this endeavor represents practical impossibility."

Curse these fallen sorcerers and their expectations, David thought bitterly.

He deeply regretted his ambitious consolidation of all rogue practitioners under his authority. Leadership's responsibility had become considerably less appealing than anticipated.

Grindelwald perceived David's wavering resolve and continued strategically.

"Chief, circumstances remain less dire than they appear."

"The Eternals—particularly Captain Thena—demonstrate subtle receptivity after learning certain truths about their existence."

"Potential alliance seems increasingly plausible," he suggested. "Furthermore, remember our established partnerships."

Grindelwald paused deliberately, allowing David to process these implications.

He means Mephisto, David realized with growing discomfort.

Something instinctive warned against involving the demon lord in matters concerning Celestial embryos. Should Mephisto discover this cosmic power source, the benefits would almost certainly bypass David entirely.

Perceiving David's internal conflict, Grindelwald pressed further. "Currently, Asgard and Kamar-Taj actively battle over the Celestial embryo."

"Numerous fallen sorcerers already possess this knowledge," he reminded David. "Maintaining secrecy appears increasingly impractical. Mephisto will inevitably discover everything, potentially leaving us marginalized."

David nodded reluctantly, acknowledging the logic.

"Remember, Chief," Grindelwald concluded with calculated emphasis, "only divine-level entities can effectively counter gods."

"We require divine assistance, regardless of its potentially malevolent nature!"

From within his mystical prison, Doctor Strange observed this exchange with growing apprehension. The real danger wasn't David—whose ambition, while destructive, remained relatively straightforward. Grindelwald represented the genuine threat, methodically manipulating multiple powerful factions toward an endgame Strange could only partially discern.

If he successfully brings Mephisto, the Eternals, and the fallen sorcerers into direct conflict with Kamar-Taj and Asgard over the Celestial embryo...

The potential consequences transcended catastrophic, threatening reality's fundamental stability. Strange redoubled his efforts to breach Grindelwald's containment, however marginally. Even the slightest warning might prove sufficient to disrupt this dangerous convergence of cosmic forces.