Let Me Help You Wake Up

Doom gave a slight turn of his head. Though the armor concealed his expression, one could easily imagine that his state of mind wasn't good.

Bright blue jets of energy burst from the back of his armor as he drove both hands into Gene, slamming him hard against the armory wall with a loud clang.

Despite Doom's usual arrogance, his armor's final design bore traces of Gene's influence. His thrusters were mounted on the back—unlike Stark's design, which integrated propulsion into the feet and palms. The truth was, many aspects of Doom's armor were fundamentally shaped by Gene's concepts. These ideas had taken deep root in Victor's mind, impossible to erase.

His iron fist smashed toward Gene's face without mercy. But Gene simply tilted his head, and the punch struck the Kree-alloy wall behind him, leaving a gaping hole.

"Not bad," Gene said calmly. "But the shock absorption and kinetic relay systems of that armor still aren't perfect. This isn't your best, Victor. You can do better."

"Shut up!" Doom roared, swinging again—this time out of sheer irritation. But Gene caught his punch with a smack and locked it in his palm.

Victor struggled to break free, only for Gene to twist his arm and pin him against the wall with effortless precision.

"RRAARGH!" Doom snarled. A thruster in his elbow ignited at full power, wrenching him free. He used the momentum to slam his elbow toward Gene's ribs, but the blow missed as Gene twisted away, and the attack instead dented the alloy wall deeply.

"Dormammu's already clouded your mind. Can't you tell?" Gene said, keeping his grip tight. "The Victor I knew wasn't someone so... petty."

"Shut up!" Doom howled, his helmet flashing crimson. His armor surged at full output, breaking Gene's hold, and he launched a furious strike at Gene's face.

Gene caught his wrist again—and with a fluid motion, drove a knee into Doom's abdomen, sending him crashing through the reinforced wall of the armory.

Jets at full blast, Doom blasted through the rubble, fists swinging in a blur, raining blows on Gene like a berserker with nothing to lose.

At that moment, it was as if Doom wasn't fighting a mentor—but an arch-enemy.

The air around Doom grew cold as black magical energy intensified, wrapping around his fists like ghostly chains. The temperature in the room dropped sharply, frost forming along the floor and walls.

Perhaps it was Dormammu's favor… or perhaps Doom's own innate affinity for magic. Whatever the case, the black magic radiating from him now far surpassed that of Kaecilius—Dormammu's previous favored disciple.

With a roar, Doom's arms pulsed with power, dark magic carving through the etched runes in his armor, and unleashed a beam of raw shadow toward Gene.

Gene side-stepped, letting the blast tear into the dimensional transporter behind him—triggering a fiery explosion.

Lowering his arms, Doom summoned weapons—two translucent, almost ghostlike blades appeared in his hands. Boosters flared. In an instant, he was in front of Gene.

Doom turned his hand into a blade and slashed downward at Gene's chest—but the golden disk of a magic shield deflected the blow to the side, slicing a table into splinters.

Gene's hands glowed, two golden shields deflecting each of Doom's relentless attacks. No matter how vicious the strikes, Gene skillfully diverted them—though the armory around them now resembled a warzone. It looked as if the Hulk had rampaged through it.

Spotting an opening, Gene launched a repulsor blast at Doom's chest. The Kree-alloy armor regenerated quickly, but the blast was laced with magic—seeping through and disrupting Doom from the inside.

Victor felt his body go cold, like he was losing control. Gritting his teeth, he bit his tongue hard—snapping himself back to awareness. Inside him, Dormammu's power clashed with Gene's magic.

Standing still for a moment, Doom narrowed his eyes at Gene. Then, with a grimace, he summoned two translucent blades once more.

With a furious scream, Doom slashed seven times in rapid succession, each blow surging with tremendous black energy that threatened to tear through reality itself. The raw destructive force easily surpassed Kaecilius' wildest spells—if Kaecilius could see this, he'd likely die of rage at Dormammu's blatant favoritism.

Gene's hand shimmered gold. A sword of pure energy materialized in his palm. He waved it once, casually—but that one stroke split the oncoming wave of darkness clean in half.

The energy clash exploded outward, ravaging everything around them. The room looked like it had been bombed from the inside—every wall fractured, every surface torn apart.

Doom gave a roar of defiance and reappeared in front of Gene. His twin blades struck out again and again, far more aggressively than when he'd sparred with Wanda.

Gene's blade—formed from foundational magic—met Doom's flurry with precision, parrying each strike. But Gene didn't counterattack. He simply blocked.

Finally, Gene found his chance. With pinpoint precision, his sword slipped into a vulnerable joint in Doom's armor. He surged forward—and a hidden device in his forearm activated, unleashing a powerful shockwave.

The armor spasmed.

This was one of Gene's experimental tools, inspired by Daisy Johnson—a miniature quake generator, still in testing phase.

With a flick of his hand, Gene popped open Doom's armor. Inside, Victor's face was pale, eyes dazed.

"It's time to wake up, Victor," Gene said gently.

A massive golden magic circle formed before him, spinning with blinding brilliance.

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