#74

As Mordo spoke, he glanced at Pangborn, fully aware that the man's loss of magic was only temporary. 

Given time, Pangborn could restore his power, and that was something Mordo could not allow.

"Then accept your punishment, parasite," Mordo said coldly. 

"I hope that after your magic-tainted soul is consumed, your sins will be absolved."

Before he could strike, a deafening explosion shattered the wall. 

A flaming black motorcycle roared into the shop, tearing through debris like a demon unleashed. 

In the next instant, a fiery chain lashed out, striking Mordo square in the chest and sending him flying.

"The only one here who needs their sins absolve is you," Ghost Rider's voice was a deep, menacing growl. 

He stepped off his bike, flames licking at his skeletal face. 

"Even if you tried to hide your presence, the darkness within you can't escape my sight."

Mordo coughed, clutching his burned chest as he staggered to his feet. 

The hellfire hadn't killed him—but it had definitely hurt.

"Mordo… you're the so-called 'Demon Hunter' everyone's been talking about?" Jarrett stepped forward, disbelief flickering across his face. 

"Why are you doing this?"

Mordo's gaze hardened. "Because it is my duty."

Jarrett clenched his fists. "Duty? You call stealing magic and attacking sorcerers 'duty'?"

Mordo sneered. "It's you who disappoints me, Jarrett. I didn't think you'd align yourself with creatures like him." 

He gestured toward Ghost Rider with disdain.

Jarrett's voice was ice. "Everything I do is to protect this world."

Mordo chuckled, shaking his head. "World peace? You sound as blind as the Ancient One."

That was the final straw. 

Jarrett's magic surged, twin blades of glowing energy materializing in his hands. 

"You have no right to speak her name!" he roared, launching himself at Mordo.

The two former allies clashed in a flurry of magical strikes. 

Sparks and waves of raw energy erupted with every impact. 

Ethan and Ghost Rider moved to assist, but something made them pause—Jarrett, the younger of the two, was actually overpowering Mordo.

"Die, traitor!" Jarrett snarled, driving his blade into Mordo's chest.

Mordo coughed, a pained smile on his lips. "Impressive, Jarrett. You've gotten stronger."

Then Jarrett frowned. 

Something felt… off. 

Mordo was never this weak.

A grotesque squirming rippled across Mordo's body. 

Flesh shifted, reshaped, and within seconds, the face before Jarrett was no longer Mordo's. 

A completely different man stood in his place, though the eerie smirk remained the same.

"A mental puppet spell…" Jarrett whispered, realization dawning. 

"You really did it. You stole the Book of Cagliostro. That's how you've been doing all this. Only someone who knew Kamar-Taj's defenses inside and out could have pulled it off."

Mordo's puppet tilted its head, its silence confirming the accusation.

"Stay on guard, Jarrett," Mordo's voice echoed from the puppet. 

"Next time we meet, I won't hold back. I'll erase you, just like I'll erase every sorcerer corrupting this world."

The puppet began to dissolve into mist, its form flickering like a dying ember. 

But just before it vanished completely, Mordo's voice returned one last time.

"Oh, and one more thing… next time we meet, call me Baron Mordo."

...

"Damn it, he's not here." Jarrett clenched his fists, his teeth grinding in frustration.

His expression darkened further as he realized that he had been chasing nothing more than a mental puppet. 

If Mordo could plant a clone in New York, then there could be more scattered across the world—Hong Kong, London, or even hidden in other places. 

The implications were alarming. 

If that were true, how many more magicians had already fallen? 

And with the stolen Book of Cagliostro in Mordo's hands, the potential consequences were unimaginable.

"No, I need to return to Kamar-Taj immediately. Mordo knows us too well. If he's lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike, we're in serious danger." Jarrett's voice was firm, his concern evident.

"Can we come with you?" Ethan asked, stepping forward.

Jarrett hesitated, scanning the group. After a moment of silence, he finally nodded. 

"I hope I'm not making a mistake. We can't afford another crisis at Kamar-Taj."

With Pangborn, now paralyzed once more, the group climbed into Ghost Rider's blazing chariot. 

In no time, they arrived at the New York Sanctum. 

As soon as they stepped inside, Jarrett quickly confirmed that the large-scale Mirror Dimension and teleportation wards were inactive, ensuring a safe passage. 

Then, leading the group up to the second floor, he approached three massive mirrors—each a portal to one of the three great sanctums: London, Hong Kong, and Kamar-Taj.

Reaching out, Jarrett placed his hand against the mirror leading to Kamar-Taj. 

The glass rippled violently before rejecting him, sending his hand recoiling backward.

"What the hell?" Jarrett muttered, frowning. 

He tried again, this time attempting to force his way through.

 The mirror's resistance was even stronger, launching him across the room.

Ethan caught him with a controlled shift of vectors, preventing him from crashing against the wall. 

"What's going on?"

"Kamar-Taj has been sealed off. External portals are completely blocked," Jarrett said, his voice laced with concern.

"Mordo's doing?" Ethan asked, his brow furrowed.

"No," Jarrett said, shaking his head. 

"Kamar-Taj must have done this themselves. There's an emergency ward that can completely lock it down, but it's never activated unless there's an extreme crisis." 

His face grew more serious. "This means whatever is happening there is far worse than we thought."

"It makes sense," Ethan mused. 

"Attacks on places like the New York Sanctum were just distractions. Mordo's real target was Kamar-Taj all along. Now that we've uncovered his presence, he's making his move there."

"If we can't get in directly, is there any way to contact them?" Katie asked.

"Not a chance," Jarrett replied. 

"Even if we did receive a message, there's no way to verify if it's real. Acting without certainty could be a huge mistake."

"Master Jarrett, what are your orders?" A young sorcerer stepped forward, unable to contain himself any longer.

"Kamar-Taj is sacred. We cannot afford to let it fall. If you command it, we'll gather everyone from the New York Sanctum and head there immediately."

"Yes, we're ready," another sorcerer added, the determination in their voice clear.

"Calm yourselves. Do not act recklessly," Jarrett snapped, his voice cutting through the room. 

"Kamar-Taj is important, but so are the three sanctums. We need to think before we act."

The younger magicians fell silent, their fervor replaced with understanding. 

Jarrett, chosen as the guardian of the New York Sanctum, had proven his wisdom time and again. 

He wasn't about to lose his composure now.

Jarrett knew better than anyone the sacred place that Kamar-Taj held in the hearts of sorcerers. 

But rationally speaking, the Three Great Sanctums were more important. 

If Kamar-Taj fell, the sorcerers would lose their spiritual stronghold. 

But if the three sanctums were destroyed, the entities lurking in the darkness of the multiverse would pour through like starving predators, devouring Earth without resistance.

Mordo claimed he only wanted to eliminate sorcerers, but who could say for sure? 

What if he used this as a distraction, waiting for Jarrett and the others to rush back to defend Kamar-Taj—only to seize the three sanctums, tear open reality itself, and offer the world as a sacrifice for greater power?

Even if Mordo didn't, there were plenty of dark sorcerers lurking in the shadows who would seize the opportunity.

 Sorcerers, by nature, often carried hidden agendas. 

And those who dabbled in the dark arts? 

They had no limits. 

Opening a portal to something terrible was practically a cliché.

"Damn it, I'm being played." Jarrett clenched his fists unconsciously.

If Mordo's true target was Kamar-Taj, then his strategy of sending clones to the sanctum regions, rallying rogue dark sorcerers to cause chaos, and keeping the Three Great Sanctums occupied was undeniably effective.

"So, you're short on manpower?" Ethan cut in, his tone laced with amusement.

Jarrett turned sharply. "You have a solution?"

"Don't tell me it's the secular world again," Jarrett added before Ethan could respond. 

"They're too weak. We can't let magical chaos spill into the mortal world—it would be a catastrophe."

"Are you so sure the secular world is weak?" Ethan's eyes narrowed, his voice carrying an edge. 

The way Jarrett dismissed the idea rubbed him the wrong way. 

"Let me ask you something—can you survive a nuclear bomb?"

"I…" Jarrett hesitated. 

He knew what a nuclear bomb was.

 He knew how devastating it could be. 

"That's irrelevant. That kind of weapon would never hit me. I could escape with a portal before impact."

"Oh, so you'd have to run, then?" Ethan smirked. 

"Fine, let's put nukes aside. What about missiles, railguns, high-powered lasers, or anti-materiel rounds? Can you block those?"

Jarrett fell silent. 

The other sorcerers around him bristled at Ethan's words, some glaring at him, but Jarrett raised a hand to stop them. 

As much as he hated to admit it, Ethan had a point. 

Beyond the infamous nuclear bomb—an undeniable force of destruction—Jarrett had barely paid attention to the so-called 'advanced weapons' of the modern world.

Ethan didn't let up. "Seems like you're finally realizing the problem." 

He locked eyes with Jarrett, his voice growing more intense. "You sorcerers have shut yourselves away for too long. 'Experiencing the secular world' doesn't mean casually wandering around like tourists, or hiding in some remote corner and watching the world through an outdated lens."

He took a step closer. "If you really think a few months of 'worldly experience' is enough to understand how the world has changed, then wake up." 

His voice dropped to a dangerous tone. "Because you're still blind."

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Word count: 1607

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