Possessed by the Dark Entity

The one who had infiltrated the S.W.O.R.D. armory in the dead of night to steal the dimension-crossing device wasn't some outsider—it was none other than the machine's original inventor: Victor Von Doom himself.

Only, something was clearly off about him.

His once-handsome face was now marked with scorched black veins, and near his eyes, violet tendrils—like the roots of some ancient tree—stretched outward toward his temples. The corruption of the Dark Dimension was evident.

"It's Dormammu, isn't it? He made you a promise," Gene asked in a low, steady voice as he watched Doom's twisted form. "Since when?"

"Two days ago," Doom replied, dryly. His voice had become raspy, darker—yet eerily calm. Not even a trace of shame for being caught red-handed.

"I should've guessed it, shouldn't I, 963?" Gene muttered. "What I didn't expect... was that you'd actually accept Dormammu's terms. I always thought someone like you would never submit to him—not for your own sake, not even for your mother's."

"He made me a promise," Doom said, his tone sharp as cold steel. "And Doom does not bow to anyone. But he gave me power. Endless, unfathomable dark power. And right now, I need power."

As he spoke, Doom raised his hand. A surge of black energy erupted from his palm, sending out a shockwave that made the entire chamber tremble.

Gene's trench coat flared violently in the wind, but he remained unmoved—an immovable pillar in the eye of the storm.

"So you believe that by drawing power from Dormammu, you'll be able to challenge Mephisto and rescue your mother from the Hell Dimension?" Gene asked, his voice still even.

"I know it's not enough. Not yet," Doom admitted, his eyes glinting with madness. "But this is only the beginning. When the Dark Dimension descends upon Earth, I'll draw strength from its infinite depths. And then I'll storm Hell itself. I'll look that demon in the eyes and tear my mother from his grip—and then I'll repay him in kind, tormenting him as he did her, piece by piece."

Gene finally understood.

Doom had always carried a single obsession in his heart: saving his mother from Hell. Normally, he would never have been seduced by Dormammu's influence. But recently, his magical progress had stagnated. The hope of rescuing his mother seemed farther away than ever.

That's when Dormammu came to him—offering exactly what he needed.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Mason," Doom said, his voice devoid of its usual arrogance, laced instead with something almost... human. "As much as I hate to admit it, my time with S.W.O.R.D. was the happiest I've known. And you—Mr. Mason—are the person I admire the most. Your intellect is awe-inspiring, and you swore you'd help me save my mother."

His voice caught ever so slightly. "I don't like admitting this... but the one I respect the most... is you."

Gene narrowed his eyes. That didn't sound like Dormammu talking. Those were Doom's own words.

Then, the emotion vanished from Doom's tone. "But now I've chosen a new path. I regret it... but anyone who stands in my way will be crushed. So, Mr. Mason, I'm offering you a chance. Walk away now. If we meet again... perhaps we won't have to be enemies."

"This offer isn't from Dormammu, is it?" Gene asked quietly after a long silence.

"What?"

"I said, everything you just said—it came from you, didn't it?" Gene's gaze sharpened. "Dormammu wouldn't waste time asking me to leave. He'd rather you kill me now."

"The part where you said 'I'm giving you a chance to leave'—that's from your own heart, isn't it?"

"…Yes." Doom's face twitched with effort. "No one commands Doom."

"Well, thank you for the offer." Gene shrugged. "But you should already know what my answer is."

Doom scoffed and extended his hand. A pitch-black magic circle flared to life before him. A suit of armor—glimmering with an eerie, dark sheen—materialized. The back of the armor split open, and Doom stepped into it with mechanical grace.

A flash of crimson lit up the armor's eyes, and the deep green cloak behind it billowed under the pressure of Doom's dark energy.

"Kree-alloy reinforced armor," Gene said, admiring the craftsmanship. "Finished in under three weeks. Impressive."

Doom didn't reply. Shadows coiled around his armored arm as he raised it. "Forgive me."

There was a slight tremor in his voice—just a flicker—before he unleashed a devastating blast of dark power that engulfed Gene entirely.

The energy tore through the reinforced vault, punching a hole through the armory doors made from reinforced Kreekium 1.8 alloy. Darkness swallowed everything.

But when the smoke and energy dissipated, Gene stood completely unharmed.

Golden light shimmered across his body as his synthetic disguise dissolved, revealing the gleaming black armor underneath. The lenses on his mask pulsed with intelligent light.

"There are two things I want to make clear," Gene said, stepping forward slowly.

"First, I brought you onto this ship. I taught you magic. That makes you my responsibility. We'll discuss that more—after I've exorcised Dormammu's corruption from your body."

"And second…" The lenses on his helmet flared brighter. "Even with Dormammu's power coursing through you—you're still leagues away from matching your teacher."

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