Mandarin's screams echoed in the endless abyss, overshadowed by the cacophony of suffering spirits surrounding him. Eons seemed to go by in the bottomless pits of Hell-an eternity of suffering that seemed worse each moment. Yet, through the torment, Mandarin's focus never wavered. There was one name, one entity he sought above all others: Mephisto.
The Mandarin, clad in the remnants of what was once regal attire, now tattered and stained with the ash of Hell, wandered endlessly. He had exhausted every method of summoning, bargaining, or coercing other damned souls and infernal denizens to grant him an audience with the Prince of Lies. His infamous rings, the source of his great power in life, were no longer with him. They, too, had been lost, scattered across Earth when he was dragged into this cursed realm. The loss of the rings had been a blow, but the Mandarin was not one to be undone by setbacks.
At first, he shouted defiantly, demanding Mephisto's presence. Then he begged, his once-proud voice breaking into ragged sobs. When even begging failed, he simply whispered, his hope reduced to embers.
"Mephisto…"
And finally, when Mandarin's will cracked, the Devil appeared.
His unrelenting persistence finally bore fruit. Just as he reached the limits of his endurance, when his mind teetered on the brink of madness, a sulfurous mist coalesced before him. The mist condensed, taking the form of a tall, imposing figure with crimson skin, blackened horns, and a perpetual grin of mockery. Mephisto had arrived.
"Calling for me, Mandarin? You've been... persistent."
The Mandarin fell to his knees, not out of reverence, but because his soul, frail and battered by Hell's torment, could no longer stand. Mephisto loomed over him, his grin widening.
"I've waited," Mandarin rasped, his voice hoarse. "I've endured your hell, all for the chance to speak with you."
Mephisto chuckled, a sound that sent ripples through the flames around them. "Oh, I know. I've been watching. Such resolve. It's almost... endearing."
Mandarin staggered to his feet, trembling. "I want out. This realm is not my destiny. I was a ruler, a conqueror—"
"Ah, but now you are a soul," Mephisto interrupted, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "And a very desperate one, at that."
The Devil stepped closer, circling Mandarin like a predator sizing up its prey. "You seek freedom. Resurrection. But, as I'm sure you've guessed, nothing comes without a price."
Mandarin's fists clenched. He had expected this, though its weight still settled heavily on his shoulders. "Name it."
Mephisto's grin widened. "There's a soul I want. One that has slipped my grasp for far too long. Bring it to me, and I will return you to the mortal plane."
"Whose soul?" Mandarin demanded, his voice regaining a fraction of its former authority.
"Hela," Mephisto hissed, his tone dripping with disdain. "The so-called Goddess of Death. She's powerless now, banished to Earth by Odin's decree. A shadow of her former self. You, Mandarin, will kill her and bring her soul to me."
Mandarin hesitated, his sharp mind processing the enormity of the task. Even powerless, Hela was no ordinary foe.
"Do you doubt your abilities?" Mephisto taunted, sensing his hesitation. "Perhaps the great Mandarin has lost his edge."
"Never," Mandarin snapped, his pride flaring to life. "But I will need... tools. My rings. They were scattered when I fell."
Mephisto waved a clawed hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, your precious rings. I will grant you the means to reclaim them. But know this: the longer you tarry, the greater the risk. The mortal world is teeming with enemies—and rivals."
With a snap of his fingers, a searing pain coursed through Mandarin's essence. He doubled over, gasping, as his spectral form twisted and coalesced. Slowly, flesh and bone returned, though it felt foreign and incomplete.
"A temporary body," Mephisto explained, watching with delight as Mandarin adjusted to his new form. "It will suffice for now. Once you bring me Hela's soul, I will make it permanent."
Mandarin straightened, his new body crackling with untested strength. He flexed his fingers, feeling the weight of mortality once more.
"And the rings?" he demanded.
Mephisto's grin turned wicked. "Scattered across Earth, as you said. I will guide you to them—but only the first few. You must find the rest on your own. Consider it a test of your worthiness."
Mandarin seethed but knew better than to argue. "Where do I begin?"
Mephisto gestured, and a fiery portal materialized before them, showing glimpses of Earth—a realm both familiar and alien after so many centuries.
"Step through, Mandarin," Mephisto urged. "And reclaim what is yours."
Without another word, Mandarin plunged into the portal, the flames engulfing him as he was thrust back into the world of the living.
...
[Earth]
Mandarin sat up, gasping for the first time in what seemed like an eternity as cold air filled his lungs. The forest was silent, except for the faint rustling of wind through the skeletal trees. There was ice everywhere. He sat up slowly, his temporary body feeling alien, a patchwork of sinew and flesh stitched together by Mephisto's will. His hands were shaking, but his mind was keen, his goal clear: find the rings, regain his strength, and fulfill the devil's bargain.
He stood up on his own and looked around over the desolate landscape. This body, in which he stood, was full of potential strength, which awaited its awakening through the treasures, which he should recover.
Mephisto had whispered to him that the Ring of Ice lay buried deep in the frozen heart of a region untouched by time. The snowstorm howled like lost souls crying for salvation. His body protested every step, as his new body was unaccustomed to such extreme conditions, but still, he moved on, driven by the lust for power.
Buried within the ice, faintly glowing, was the Ring of Ice, aka Zero. Mandarin approached, his breath visible in the frigid air.
But the ring was not unguarded. Ancient creatures of frost, their forms grotesque and misshapen, emerged from the glacier. They were fast despite their crystalline frames. They attacked without hesitation, their claws and teeth glinting like razors.
Mandarin fought with ferocity, his temporary body pushed to its limits. Though lacking his full strength, he was still a master of strategy and combat. Using the creatures' speed against them, he lured them into each other's paths, shattering their icy forms one by one. When the last guardian fell, Mandarin approached the ring and pried it from the ice.
The moment the ring touched his skin, it rejected him by blasting an ice wave of energy, knocking him back.
"You are not worthy..."
The voice, coming from the Ring of Ice, echoed in his mind. The Mandarin got up, clenching his fists and trying again, but the ring repelled him again, sending a blast of freezing energy to send him flying away.
The Mandarin gritted his teeth, furious at his weakness. "I'm your master. I am Mandarin."
The Ring of Ice pulsated with a cold, blue light before it shot into the sky without any warning. He chased after the ring, which was fast, and flew high up into the sky.
His body cried out for rest, but he refused to give up. He followed the ring, though it always remained just out of reach, until finally, his body gave out, and he collapsed, tumbling back down to the frozen ground. The Ring of Ice flew away, disappearing into the storm.
"I will have you," the Mandarin whispered. "No matter what it takes."
The wind howled, and the snowstorm raged on.
...
[NY] [Morning]
Bruce admitted Morgan to school as she wanted. On their way, they decided to grab some ice cream at the local store.
"Dad, I want a sundae with two scoops of vanilla ice cream and two scoops of chocolate ice cream, topped with caramel and chocolate syrup," Morgan ordered him.
"Okay," he chuckled. "Anything else?"
"Nope!"
"What do you want to drink?" Bruce asked. "Or eat cookies? They're fresh."
Morgan looked at the cookies and thought about it, and she turned to him with a mischievous smirk.
"Chocolate chip cookies!"
"How many do you want?"
She put her hand on her chin and tapped her finger against it.
"Four!" Morgan held out four fingers.
"Alright. Four chocolate chip cookies, vanilla ice cream with two scoops of chocolate ice cream, topped with caramel and chocolate syrup." Bruce repeated it.
Morgan nodded eagerly as he ordered the ice cream.
Suddenly, Bruce felt a weird sensation on his finger. The Lightning Ring was sparking and he remembers this feeling very well. There is another ring nearby. From the ring's space, the Spectral Ring's soul spoke to him through telepathy.
"The Ice Ring... Zero is nearby. Do as you wish with it. But don't put it with me. I hate cold."
"Huh! Now you speak," Bruce said through telepathy.
"Things have changed. You should be prepared for what's to come. But first, get Zero." The woman's voice told him.
...
[Meanwhile...] [Location: Classified]
Elsa Bloodstone sat on the sun-drenched balcony of her countryside retreat, sipping a strong cup of tea and enjoying the rare tranquility of her self-imposed holiday. Her crimson hair shimmered under the warm sunlight as she flipped through a worn journal filled with ancient monster lore. For once, there were no cries for help, no monsters lurking in shadows, and no Bloodstone relic glowing ominously on her chest. It was blissfully quiet until her phone buzzed, shattering the illusion of peace.
She sighed, setting down her mug with a resigned air. "Can't even finish a bloody cup of tea, can I?"
The caller ID read "South African Institute of Supernatural Affairs," a contact she hoped wouldn't call for at least another decade. Answering with her characteristic mix of irritation and curiosity, she barked, "What is it now? Another chupacabra sighting, or has someone summoned a demon in their backyard barbecue?"
A frantic voice greeted her. "Miss Bloodstone, we need you. The Ngami Basin has awakened!"
Elsa straightened, her grip tightening on the phone. "Awakened? Be specific."
The voice on the other end trembled. "Monsters... ancient frostbound creatures buried for centuries. They've emerged near the basin, and it's spreading. Local authorities are overwhelmed. People are vanishing."
Elsa rubbed her temples, her holiday already a distant memory. "Frost creatures in South Africa? Sounds like someone's been meddling with things they shouldn't. Send me the coordinates."
"But there's more," the voice added nervously. "A powerful artifact has been detected among them. Something... older than the creatures themselves."
Her heart sank. Artifacts were always trouble. "Let me guess... it's glowing and cursed."
"Yes."
Elsa sighed heavily, standing to prepare her gear. "I'm on my way. And next time, do us both a favor—don't call me unless it's really the end of the world."
As she hung up, the Bloodstone on her chest glowed faintly, sensing the growing threat. "So much for holidays," she muttered, grabbing her jacket and shotgun.
****[Reviews and PowerStones💎💎]*****
If you want to support me or read advance chapters, check out my Patr éon.
Support Link: https://www.patr eon.com/XcaliburXc
⭐As of now, Pat reon is 15 chapters ahead⭐ [No double billing]
--------