Marvel: Xenomorphs

The clash between Abomination and Duncan caught the attention of many.

"Looks like it's an intense fight, but who are you fighting?" Blade asked, overlooking the scene from a distant rooftop.

"I found a replica of the Hulk and decided to say hello," Duncan replied nonchalantly.

"If you clean up your pets and heal their wounds, maybe I'll believe you," Blade said with a sinister grin, pointing at the Xenomorphs standing near Duncan. "Seems like you've suffered a lot of losses. That gives your enemies a chance to take you out."

"Don't worry. I'm not that easy to kill. If by enemies you mean vampires, I hope they come in droves," Duncan said coolly.

Blade studied the Xenomorphs closely, his mind churning. He could tell that Duncan had an extraordinary level of confidence in the creatures he created. Furthermore, the crowned Xenomorph he had been expecting to see was conspicuously absent.

The two exchanged casual remarks until the injured but recovering Abomination stormed onto the street, roaring.

Blade looked surprised. His heightened instincts immediately registered the immense threat emanating from Abomination. In truth, even he would struggle if struck by one of Abomination's punches head-on.

What truly caught Blade's attention, though, was the half-healed state of Abomination's body.

"Was that your doing?"

"It was."

"How many of your Xenomorphs died?"

"Nearly half."

"Nearly half? And you still have six left? Looks like you've been busy preparing in secret," Blade said in shock. How long had it been? Already, there were a dozen or so of these creatures, and the six survivors included one that looked particularly strong, with a bizarre, almost sci-fi appearance—it was clearly a new Xenomorph.

To have suffered such heavy losses attacking Abomination and still fail only underscored how dangerous Abomination was.

The two then watched as Abomination rampaged down Broadway, violently kicking cars off the street.

If it were just empty vehicles, Blade could have stayed put. But when he saw civilians caught in the chaos, he couldn't stand by any longer. Drawing his blade, he leaped into action. With his extraordinary physique, he sprinted along the side of a building and rescued a civilian.

But Duncan didn't move. He waited patiently, anticipation gleaming in his eyes.

This strange stillness surprised certain observers.

"What's he doing?" someone asked.

"People are dying, and he's just standing there," Dum-Dum Dugan pointed at the screen in disbelief.

"Maybe he's scared. He fought that monster once, took heavy losses, and now he's too afraid to go back in," Nick Fury muttered, shaking his head.

Was that all? A bit of fear wasn't necessarily a bad thing—it meant he respected power, making him easier to control.

While Fury adjusted Duncan's evaluation rating downward to "useful but not reliable," Blade wasn't as quick to dismiss him. Blade doubted Duncan was scared and suspected he'd discovered something critical.

Throughout this, Blade had never sensed fear or hesitation from Duncan.

The situation came to a head when Bruce Banner leaped from a helicopter, stumbling as he transformed into the Hulk.

Even Fury stopped paying attention to Duncan, his focus locked on the Hulk.

With the Hulk now in play, who cared about Duncan? Did people even realize how much value the Hulk brought to the table? Did they understand his raw power?

"Hulk!"

The sight of Hulk sent Abomination into a frenzy. The rage stirred by Duncan was now fully unleashed. Abomination abandoned Blade and charged at Hulk, each step leaving massive craters in the asphalt.

Boom!

Hulk was sent flying.

Having been subjected to experiments and injected with suppressive drugs by Mr. Blue, Hulk felt weak and couldn't unleash his full strength, allowing Abomination to dominate him.

The two giants brawled, colliding and rolling like rampaging gorillas, leaving chaos in their wake. Every blow flattened cars and turned buildings into rubble.

Abomination grew more excited, raining punch after punch on Hulk. Something seemed to be brewing in his chest, building toward an explosive release.

"See this, Hulk? I'm stronger than you! I—Emil Blonsky—Abomination, am the strongest!" Abomination roared into the sky.

Countless eyes were glued to him, and the moment was broadcast worldwide, sparking global frenzy.

This was a defining event. Individuals with extraordinary power were brazenly displaying their might, sowing death and destruction.

Watching these two giants clash, ordinary punches crushed sturdy cars, and buildings crumbled like tofu under their fists.

At that moment, many others with extraordinary powers around the world took notice.

"Professor, we could still intervene," a member of the X-Men said.

"No, we can't act. This is fundamentally a human conflict. If we act recklessly, we risk triggering certain sensitivities," Professor X replied.

The X-Men watched the breaking news on television, divided in opinion, but ultimately turned to Professor X in his wheelchair.

Yet the professor wore a look of confusion. "Something's off… That Abomination, it's not just him. There's another consciousness within him—one that's rejecting my psychic link. It's… strange."

For the first time, Professor X encountered something like this.

The presence of another consciousness within Abomination was one thing, but this consciousness seemed deeply bound to a third, unknown mind.

Was Abomination merely a product of an experiment gone wrong, or had someone deliberately created him?

Professor X hesitated. He could calm both Abomination and Hulk with his psychic powers, but given the precarious position of mutants...

"Destiny once said that in many futures, mutants face extinction. I must tread carefully, avoiding unnecessary actions to ease tensions with humanity," he thought.

Professor X felt a heavy burden, unable to share Destiny's visions of countless doomed futures with anyone.

Were mutants truly doomed, no matter the path they chose? What was the right course of action?

Meanwhile, someone else was far more carefree.

The Ancient One sat atop a snowy mountain, her senses attuned to the cosmic dimensions. She scanned New York briefly amidst her work monitoring interdimensional threats.

"Hmm. Reality's shifted again, but it's not the work of an otherworldly demon. This is just the course of Earth's natural development."

As a Skyfather-level being armed with the Time Stone, the Book of Vishanti, and other mystical artifacts, the Ancient One could perceive the subtle changes on Earth. She wasn't inclined to interfere.

Unlike the Time Stone, she didn't possess the Reality Stone and couldn't rewrite established facts at will.

She was more concerned with her mounting mystical debts.

"Vishanti hasn't demanded anything yet, and Cyttorak is quiet, so white magic and demon spells are safe for now. The real issue is the black magic…"

In the multiverse, all magic ultimately came from magical entities—godlike beings of unimaginable power. Borrowing their magic always came with a price.

The Ancient One was fine with Vishanti and Cyttorak, who were relatively low-maintenance. But her black magic debt, borrowed from Dormammu, who in turn borrowed from the Elder God Chthon, was a problem.

Chthon's reputation for pettiness and wrath was legendary. Even sealed away, a mere breath from him could obliterate countless universes.

For now, Dormammu was shouldering the debt for the Ancient One's black magic use—a situation that clearly irked him.

The Ancient One sighed. "Blame Chthon. Look at what he's reduced you to, Dormammu."

She murmured to herself, casually casting a black magic spell to extend her lifespan.

Deep within the Dark Dimension, Dormammu opened his eyes in fury, his resentment palpable.

Damn it. The debt had increased again.