Inside S.W.O.R.D. Headquarters, within the specially designed combat chamber—its walls reinforced with Kree alloys capable of withstanding high-intensity strikes—Victor Von Doom stood poised, golden magical arrays glowing across his armor.
From his hands danced shimmering threads of magic, weaving together to form a radiant longsword of golden light.
Opposite him stood Wanda Maximoff—also known as the Scarlet Witch. Chaos Magic surged through her veins, and in her hands, two crimson energy whips shimmered like coiled serpents, crackling with raw, untamed power.
Gene Mason stood just outside the barrier of the chamber, arms folded, calmly observing the sparring session between the two.
With a sudden gleam of gold, Doom lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air at an impossible angle. Wanda twisted with agile grace, flipping midair as her energy whips lashed forward like twin vipers, dancing toward Doom.
Forced onto the defensive, Doom parried desperately. Wanda’s attacks came from everywhere and nowhere, her strikes erratic but overwhelming.
Since joining S.W.O.R.D., Doom’s genius had found fertile ground. Under Gene’s personal guidance and his own relentless pursuit of arcane knowledge, his command of sorcery had progressed at a staggering pace—fast enough to leave even the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj in disbelief.
But no amount of intellect could ignore the power Wanda wielded. She lacked Doom’s discipline, but her affinity for Chaos Magic and the sheer magnitude of energy stored within her body—even Gene had privately admitted it made him uneasy.
If it came down to pure magical might, Gene himself wasn’t certain he could defeat her in a straight fight.
Gene watched with a half-smile. "Red Queen," he said softly. "Who do you think will win this match?"
Red Queen’s voice resonated calmly in his neural interface:
"Sir, probability analysis suggests a 99.3% chance of victory for Miss Wanda."
And it seemed her prediction was coming true.
Doom’s movements were beginning to falter. His elegant blade work was losing precision. Wanda’s strikes were relentless, chipping away at his magical defenses.
Gritting his teeth, Doom conjured a golden circular shield in one hand, parrying Wanda’s whip strikes as his sword flicked forward again, aimed at her chest.
Wanda tilted her wrist, and one of her whips coiled around the blade mid-air, yanking it from his grasp. The golden sword shattered into motes of light. A second whip crack struck Doom’s wrist, forcing him to drop the conjured shield.
In the blink of an eye, Wanda closed the distance. Chaos energy erupted from her palms, sending Doom crashing to the floor.
She stepped forward and calmly offered her hand.
Doom frowned, reluctant, but took it anyway and rose to his feet.
Wanda had long grown used to Doom’s stubborn pride. She didn’t take offense.
"Wow! Wanda-sis, you’re amazing!" cheered Hexie, who had been watching the duel with wide-eyed excitement from beside Gene.
Gene entered the room and smiled. "Well done, Wanda. You’ve improved a lot."
He turned toward Doom. "And you too. Your mastery of sorcery is reaching a remarkable level."
But Doom’s expression remained heavy. "It’s still not enough... not enough to save my mother. I need to learn deeper, more powerful magic. What I have now is meaningless against someone like Mephisto."
"You’re being reckless," Gene said, his brows knitting. "Mastering mystical arts isn’t something you rush. Have you forgotten everything you’ve learned about balance—about structure?"
Doom’s gaze darkened.
He had been impatient.
Ever since he began studying under Gene, he’d witnessed powers and technologies beyond his imagination. The more he learned, the more he realized how small he was in the grand scheme of things. That desperation to grow stronger—quickly—had consumed him.
Gene placed a hand on his shoulder. "You have extraordinary talent. What you need now is patience. Keep walking this path, and the power you seek will come to you."
He paused briefly. "Your foundation is solid now. You’re ready to begin learning the higher-tier spells... though I may be occupied for a little while."
Doom nodded slowly. "Understood, Commander. I’ll reset my focus... maybe lock myself in the lab for a few days. I’ve got a few theories I’d like to test anyway."
Gene gave a small nod.
Just then, a voice echoed within his neural net.
"Sir," came the voice of Skynet, calm but urgent. "An item has been stolen from the Mason Industries warehouse. Designation: TARS-38 604."
Gene didn’t flinch. His expression didn’t change.
"Tell no one," he ordered in thought alone.
"I understand, Sir. No one knows," Skynet confirmed.
Gene’s eyes narrowed slightly. Something had begun.
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