Every few years, a grand arena in the cosmos hosts a rare gathering of sorcerers, magicians, and the occasional warlock. Here, they clash in a contest for supremacy, vying for the coveted title of Sorcerer Supreme. But for the past few contests—perhaps more than four—one sorcerer has consistently emerged victorious, a true Master of the Mystic Arts: Doctor Strange. With each victory, he secured his position as Earth's Sorcerer Supreme.
The beings who orchestrate these contests and crown the champion are the Vishanti, an ancient, powerful trio. Each is represented by an oversized head: one of a fierce tiger or leopard, another of a stern-faced woman, and the last an equally angry-looking man.
Tonight, the Vishanti had called an emergency gathering of Earth's sorcerers, something done only when the situation was dire. Despite the sudden summons, a majority of Earth's magical community answered the call.
"The Sorcerer Supreme of Earth has fallen," the tiger-headed Vishanti declared, its voice booming through the arena. "Now, Earth stands defenseless against the Dark Dimension and other malevolent forces."
What should have been a solemn announcement instead erupted into cheers and jeers, as though the fall of Doctor Strange was something many had eagerly anticipated. Holding the mantle of Sorcerer Supreme had earned Strange plenty of enemies among the mystics.
"His arrogance finally caught up with him," sneered an old, drunken mage, his temper as short as his patience. "I told him he should've slaughtered those damn rabbits."
"I'll be the next Sorcerer Supreme!" one sorcerer boasted, puffing out his chest as others around him murmured the same, each hungry for the power and prestige.
Suddenly, a voice boomed through the arena, cutting through the noise like a blade. "None of you are worthy!"
The voice was ancient, commanding—its power on par with the Vishanti themselves. Golden lights flared, ankhs and mystical symbols swirling in the air, heralding the dramatic arrival of none other than...
Doctor Fate.
"This is a role meant only for gods!" Fate declared, hovering above the crowd, his eyes glowing with divine authority as he looked down on them like insects beneath his feet.
For a moment, the arena went deathly quiet, the weight of Doctor Fate's presence pressing down on every sorcerer. They stood frozen, processing what had just happened—and what might come next.
Before anyone, even the Vishanti, could respond...
"So, that's what you were after all along," came a voice, calm yet commanding. This time, there was no fanfare—just the crackling hum of a sling ring portal, its golden-brown energy swirling with a quiet intensity. From it, stepped a figure in red, his Cloak of Levitation billowing like the return of a mythic hero. "But I'm afraid the position is already filled."
"Strange?" gasped the gathered mystics, their voices a mixture of disbelief, disappointment, and anger. Some jeered, others murmured as if they were witnessing a ghost. Even the Vishanti appeared unsettled.
"In the flesh," Doctor Strange replied, his tone steady but sharp, as he moved through the crowd with purpose. His eyes were locked on Doctor Fate, their confrontation inevitable as the two masters of magic closed the distance.
The male Vishanti's voice rumbled through the air, barely masking its rage. "We felt your demise, Stephen."
"You lack the power to deceive us," the female Vishanti snapped, her tone dripping with disdain.
"Explain yourself!" roared the tiger-headed Vishanti, its voice filled with righteous fury.
"I obliterated you!" Doctor Fate retorted, rising higher, his aura flaring with intensity as he loomed over Strange. "I made sure of it."
"It takes more than a spear to kill the Master of the Mystic Arts," Strange responded with a smirk, his voice steady with pride. "But I'll give you credit for seeing the perfect opportunity."
Strange's eyes gleamed as he continued, "I underestimated you... but you didn't underestimate me. You knew I'd come for you, and you understood my power."
He gestured toward his chest, where the Eye of Agamotto rested. "You targeted the Eye, knowing full well it's the key to my survival. You aimed to destroy it, and with it, my life force."
Strange gave a slow, approving nod. "Commendable. You planned for every possibility. But there's one thing you missed: the Eye of Agamotto holds an Infinity Stone—the Time Stone. A relic of the universe itself. It cannot be destroyed." He smirked, knowing full well that wasn't entirely true. But what's one bluff in the heat of battle?
He unlocked the Eye, its light flaring briefly. "When you struck, the Stone removed itself from time, long enough for even the Vishanti to perceive my 'death.'"
Strange's eyes bore into Doctor Fate's. "But now your deception is over. Your game ends here."
He hovered above Doctor Fate, his presence pressing down like a storm. "Now would be a good time to choose your final words, Fate, because in my universe, you've run out of them."
Fate glanced around, weighing the potential for an all-out mystical war. He could handle the sorcerers, but the Vishanti were a different matter—they were like the Lords of Order, only more powerful, since this was their universe.
"This is not the last of Doctor Fate," he declared, preparing to escape through a portal. As his golden ankh began to form, ready to transport him away, Strange cut in.
"Oh, no you don't," Strange said, following closely behind. He summoned the Images of Ikonn, creating duplicates of himself to block Fate's escape.
Another mystical clash erupted between them, reigniting interest from the disappointed crowd and stirring a desire for battle among the spectators.
"Long time no see, Wanda," Agatha Harkness called out, confronting Wanda about becoming the Scarlet Witch. The arena transformed into chaos as others joined the fray: Karl Mordo, Brother Voodoo, Magik, Shaman—all sorts of misfits holding grudges against one another, ready to fight.
"ENOUGH!" The Vishanti's power rippled through the arena, halting the escalating conflict. Doctor Strange, respecting the authority of the Vishanti, refrained from using magic. Meanwhile, Doctor Fate, no longer feeling the need to feign respect, seized the opportunity to escape through his ankh but paused long enough to hear the Vishanti's declaration.
The commotion abruptly quieted as the Vishanti announced, "There will be no contest this time, but the title of Sorcerer Supreme remains unfilled until our next champion."
Strange didn't argue; he understood their reasoning. The Time Stone's severance from time had cut his connection to the Vishanti, meaning he had technically lost the title of Sorcerer Supreme. He would have to earn it back the right way—through a contest that the Vishanti wouldn't hold until they had made their decision.
The only regret he felt was that Doctor Fate had slipped from his grasp... and that he needed to address the Time Variance Authority about that little time ordeal before they started interfering in his life.
---
Back in Kade's life, things were just mundane. During the weekend, he and Peter Parker had completed their science project, though somehow Peter had ended up doing all the work on his own. The science teacher deemed their presentation merely "okay," looking far more impressed by MJ's and Flash's project.
Kade understood that Peter had given MJ the better project because he fancied her, but he kept his mouth shut about it as they sat for lunch on Monday.
"Got any plans for later?" Kade asked, casually picking at his fries.
Peter glanced up and looked toward where MJ was sitting at a table with Flash Thompson. Through coincidence—or Fate—MJ looked up, and their gazes momentarily locked before Peter quickly looked away, his face flushed.
Flash noticed and a couple of guys at his table nudged him to react.
Kade quietly observed, a knowing smirk creeping across his face. "You know, if I want something, I just go and get it. It might not always work out, but it's at least worth a try," he said, chewing absent-mindedly.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Peter shot back, locking onto his own distraction.
"Anyone here can tell you like MJ. Why not ask her out?" Kade prodded, and food fell from Peter's mouth as he choked on his fries, quickly recollecting his composure.
"Me? I mean…" Before Peter could explain himself, Flash walked over, patting Peter hard on the back, nearly sending him face-first into his tray.
"Hey, Parker!" Flash said, his voice boisterous and dripping with faux friendliness. "What's up, loser? You still working on that science project? Heard it was pretty lame."
Peter rubbed his back, a forced smile on his face. "We just turned it in this morning. You and MJ got an A, remember?"
Flash scoffed, crossing his arms. "Yeah, well, maybe you should've put in a little more effort. I mean, come on, you let MJ do the work. Not a good look, man."
"Looking good, Kade," Flash continued, a disingenuous grin plastered on his face. "Why don't you come join us at the cool table?"
He gestured toward the table where MJ sat, shifting uncomfortably while the other kids cheered Flash on, their laughter echoing across the cafeteria.
Kade, looking right past Flash, stood up as if leaving. "I'll see you at the skate park later, Peter. Don't bother bringing the utilities; I got you covered, man."
With that, he walked off, completely ignoring Flash.
"Hey! I'm talking to you!" Flash shot back, his voice tinged with irritation as humiliation began to creep in. Just as he was about to stride over and grab Kade to teach him a lesson, Kade's skateboard rolled out from under the table and struck Flash's heel.
"Oops!" Kade turned, feigning innocence as Flash stumbled forward, arms flailing, his face flushing with embarrassment. "I almost forgot—my skateboard."
The cafeteria erupted in laughter, and Kade took his skateboard, casually strolling away as if nothing had happened.
Flash, now on the ground, shot Kade a furious glare, his pride wounded. "You think you're so clever, huh?" he spat, trying to regain some semblance of composure as he picked himself up, cheeks burning. He brushed himself off, attempting to regain his cool demeanor, but the laughter around him only deepened his humiliation.
"Whatever," Flash muttered, crossing his arms defensively as he shot a glare at Peter, who was trying to hide his grin behind a mouthful of food. The laughter continued to echo in Flash's ears.