Chapter 16

"Mordo!!"

"You deserve to die!!!"

The howls of the demons rattled the ground like a war drum.

Even Daniel turned his head mid-battle.

"Mordo? He's here?"

He glanced around, confused.

"Why would he show up now? Shouldn't he still be off the grid—wait..."

Daniel's thoughts froze. Because standing there wasn't Mordo.

It was some young man he'd never seen before. 

Casual clothes. Calm expression. Taking photos like he'd wandered into the middle of Comic-Con.

And yet—

The demons were losing their minds over him.

"Why do they think he's Mordo...?"

Before Daniel could figure it out—

Belasco struck.

"You dare lose focus in front of me?!"

The warlock's voice boomed, laced with fury.

His blade of raw chaos slashed through Daniel's defenses, shattering the shield like glass and slicing deep into his shoulder.

A flash of pain. Blood. And if Daniel hadn't used a last-second shape-shift spell, that blow might've cleaved him in two.

"Hrrgh—"

Daniel clenched his teeth, staggering back.

No time to think about the newcomer. Whether he was Mordo or not didn't matter now. Belasco was going for the kill.

———

Meanwhile, on the other end of the battlefield—

Luke felt the tension in the air shift.

And not in a good way.

The demons weren't just angry. They weren't just out for blood.

They wanted his blood.

"Wow... guess nobody's feeling nostalgic today."

Luke lowered his phone, sighing. "Alright then. No hugs and handshakes. Got it."

He cracked his knuckles.

"You guys came for a fight, huh? Then let's make it a good one."

Without another word, Luke launched the first strike.

A flash of movement—fast, clean, confident. No hesitation.

Though he had a ritual card tucked in his pocket—a backup exorcism trick—he didn't touch it. Not yet.

Today, it was fists and fury.

"C'mon then! One human-sized serving at a time! Let's see what you demons are really made of!"

With that, Luke's power surged.

His system roared to life.

A wave of dark, divine energy burst from him, crashing over the battlefield like a shockwave.

It was massive.

Monstrous.

Unnatural.

A twisted fusion of exorcist purity and demonic might.

The demons froze.

For a split second, the entire horde just... stared.

And then—

"That's OUR power!"

"He stole it!"

"GET HIM!!"

They charged.

But Luke was ready.

His body began to shift.

In a blink, his human form warped—growing, stretching, mutating.

Three meters tall. Eyes burning crimson. Arms transforming into monstrous claws. Horns curled from his skull. Scales—red and black—covered his frame like armor.

Lava oozed from the cracks in his skin, dripping onto the pavement with sizzling hisses.

He didn't just look like a demon.

He looked like their king.

Belasco, watching from across the battlefield, faltered.

"What... the hell is that kid...?"

He didn't say it out loud.

But in his mind, one thought screamed above the rest:

He looks more like a demon than the rest of the demons themselves.

Luke grinned, fangs gleaming.

"Finally! A worthy opponent!"

"Our battle will be legendary!" he added with fist up in the air.

As soon as Luke finished speaking, massive wings of dark energy burst from his back.

With a rush of wind, he launched into the air like a missile, diving straight into the horde of demons like a blade through paper.

Like a predator among prey.

SLASH!

The first wave of demons didn't even have time to scream before they were torn apart by Luke's claws—flesh and bone scattering like confetti.

"Really? This is the best you've got?"

Luke smirked as he barreled through another line of snarling monsters.

"You call yourselves demons? I've seen toddlers with more bite. Maybe hand over that title, huh?"

His voice was calm. Almost mocking.

As he moved, his body surged with power. Since activating his demon form, his speed, strength, and reflexes had exploded. 

Everything was sharper. Deadlier.

Up above, a winged demon tried to ambush him.

Bad idea.

Luke's wings snapped out and hooked the creature mid-flight. 

With a brutal yank, he tore it clean in half.

Another demon, this one larger and snarling with goat-like horns, charged at him.

Luke sidestepped, ripped off one of its horns, and drove it straight through the creature's chest.

The fight wasn't flashy. It was vicious. Efficient. One strike, one kill.

Limbs, heads, and shredded torsos rained from above like some horrific downpour.

On the ground, the demons who couldn't fly fared even worse. Luke dove from the sky and carved through them like a buzzsaw. Whole clusters went down in seconds.

It wasn't a battle—it was a massacre.

—

"...Wasn't that the guy who just walked past us a minute ago?"

A few yards away, Captain America stared, wide-eyed.

Black Widow blinked. "He smiled and waved. I saw him smile and wave."

They all watched as the same guy—who just looked like a chill tourist a moment ago—now tore through hellspawn like he was flipping through a phonebook.

Even the demons looked scared.

"Did I hear right?" Tony asked, stunned. "They called him... Mordo?"

He ducked as a severed demon head splattered nearby.

"Man. That is way too literal a bloody storm."

The Avengers, who had spent all their strength trying to keep the demons at bay, now watched them get shredded like cheap paper dolls.

—

Elsewhere…

S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier – Command Deck

Nick Fury stared at the live footage.

 His jaw clenched. He picked up the emergency pager... then put it back down. Picked it up again. Put it down.

Some sorcerers had shown up. Then this kid—this Mordo, or whoever he was—showed up.

Now the battlefield looked like a scene straight from a horror film.

"This escalated real fast," he muttered.

He turned to Maria Hill, still watching the screen.

"Thoughts on nuking the site?"

Hill looked at him, then at the screen, then back at his bald head.

She didn't say anything. 

Just sighed.

—

The fight didn't last long.

Only minutes had passed, but the landscape was already covered in demon parts. The few survivors finally stopped charging.

The rage in their eyes faded, replaced by fear.

They couldn't win.

They knew they couldn't win.

Sure, they were angry about being tricked… but staying alive suddenly seemed like a much more reasonable goal.

Revenge could wait.

Now it was all about one thing:

Survive the wrath of the monster they kept calling "Mordo."

"It's your fault for giving him that kind of power!" one of them shouted, snarling at another.

"Blame us?"

"You gave him ninety percent of your power, and now you want to blame us?"

"Wasn't the deal his soul?"

"Speaking of which... how did we get conned again?" 

"This guy's supposed to be a pure soul? Doesn't feel very pure to me."

The demons began to bicker among themselves, arguing and throwing blame. Doubt filled the air. 

What they'd just witnessed didn't match anything resembling holiness.

The battlefield was littered with torn limbs and broken bodies.

This wasn't the work of a saint.

"What now?" Luke's voice rang out from above, calm and dangerous. "No one's fighting anymore?"

Still floating mid-air in his demon form, Luke spread his blood-soaked arms, wings outstretched like a predator surveying the field.

The demons stayed quiet.

 No one moved. They glanced at each other, hoping someone else would step forward. 

But no one did.

Cowards, the lot of them. Once one backed down, the rest followed.

Luke hovered there, letting the silence speak.

 His body was slick with blood, bits of shredded demons still clinging to his armor and claws.

"If we're done here, then I say we call it even. No hard feelings. You want to work with me in the future? Sure. I'll play fair."

He pointed a claw at the crowd.

"Just don't go around badmouthing me. I hate rumors."

Chunks of meat still dripped from his form as he grinned.

"Anyone got a problem with that? Speak now."

Silence.

Luke's red eyes shifted to Belast.

...…

Not far off, Belasco was still hammering Daniel Drumm into the ground.

But even as he fought, his gaze kept drifting toward Luke.

'Who was this guy?'

What kind of human could manipulate, deceive, and overpower a mob of hellspawn like that? And now—now he was watching as those same demons bowed to Luke without a fight.

Belasco's fist cracked down against Daniel's shield. Hard.

"Trash," he muttered, glaring at the demons who once served him.

It was humiliating. His own underlings—outclassed by a single human.

'Fine. Enough games.'

This needed to end. Fast.

Belasco surged forward, slamming his blade down toward Daniel, fury blazing in his eyes.

"How dare you slow me down! You're nothing but a—"

The blade cut through Daniel's shield—and nearly took off his head.

Daniel barely dodged. 

Wounded and exhausted, he could hardly stand, let alone fight. His magic flickered, unstable.

He looked down at the Avengers below—watching the battle like an audience at a play.

'Are you kidding me!?'

'I gave you shields. I gave you lightning. I gave you everything!'

'And you're just standing there!?'

But the Avengers weren't mind readers.

They were too stunned watching Luke wipe out demon after demon. 

That kind of violence—even for seasoned heroes—was brutal.

By the time they snapped out of it, Daniel was already on his last leg.

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