Marvel Infinity Talent - Chapter 235

At Kamar-Taj, more than ten master sorcerers, led by Mordo and Wong, had used the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak to bind the dark god Chthon.

“Strange, Wanda, come over here!” Mordo called out. Despite Chthon being trapped by their magical bindings, Mordo’s expression remained tense. The presence of Chthon had instilled a primal fear in them, an emotion they hadn’t experienced before, underscoring Chthon’s immense power.

Wanda struggled to suppress the chaotic energy within her as she helped Strange to his feet.

“You think you can restrain me with just a few sorcerers?” Chthon’s voice was calm, almost amused, as he looked at Strange and Wanda behind the line of masters. Even though bound by the Crimson Bands, his aura remained undiminished, explaining the fear gripping them. They realised that not even the Ancient One would fare much better against him.

Boom!

Without warning, a surge of terrifying power erupted from Chthon, shattering the Crimson Bands. The force sent the masters flying, some coughing up blood and looking pale from the exertion.

“No wonder he’s the Dark God. His power is incredible,” Mordo said, his tone grave. He could feel his magic fluctuating uneasily, something he had never experienced before.

As Chthon approached, Mordo and the others watched with mounting dread until they noticed he suddenly stopped, looking towards a figure approaching. It was Wang Yan.

“Master Wang Yan!” Strange’s voice was filled with relief. To him, there seemed to be nothing Wang Yan couldn’t handle.

“Wang Yan, this one is exceptionally strong. Be cautious,” Mordo warned.

Wong added, “This might be Chthon, the Dark God. He’s no ordinary adversary.”

Wang Yan nodded, “Thank you for your efforts. I’ve assessed the situation.”

Although the other masters were unsure if Wang Yan could hold his ground, his confident demeanour reassured them. Unknowingly, Wang Yan had become their anchor, giving them hope even against a deity like Chthon.

As Wang Yan approached, he noticed Wanda struggling with her chaotic energy. With a wave of his hand, runes formed around her, calming the storm within her.

Chthon’s brows furrowed in displeasure, but Wang Yan turned to him coldly, “Dark God, you’ve gone too far by coming to Kamar-Taj.”

“Too far?” Chthon chuckled. “I’m merely here to reclaim what is mine. Return it to me, and I will leave.”

Chthon didn’t underestimate Wang Yan, especially after seeing him effortlessly calm Wanda’s chaotic magic—a feat that made him wary.

“What’s yours?” Wang Yan retorted. “Do you mean Wanda’s chaos magic? She is now a disciple of Kamar-Taj, and no one will harm her.”

Wang Yan’s resolute words resonated with the masters and boosted their morale.

“You wish to defy me?” Chthon’s voice grew cold. “You have no idea who you are up against.”

“We know well enough that you are Chthon, the source of dark magic,” Wang Yan said calmly. His extensive study of the Darkhold had given him plenty of insight into Chthon.

Chthon’s history of being sealed for billions of years wasn’t lost on Wang Yan. The universe had moved on, and the reverence once held for deities had waned. Wang Yan had long shed any awe he might have once had for such beings.

“You think this universe is still the same? Gods aren’t what they used to be,” Wang Yan continued.

Chthon shook his head, “You misunderstand. Our titles stem from our power, not your reverence. We were deified because of our might. You, feeling strong because of a little magic, can’t comprehend what it means to be a god.”

The masters of Kamar-Taj murmured amongst themselves, encouraged by Wang Yan’s defiance. They had faced gods before, but none had been as openly opposed as Wang Yan now stood.

“You’ve overstepped, sorcerer,” Chthon growled, raising his hand as black energy coalesced into a spear—an artefact of pure darkness, absorbing all light.

The masters felt their hearts sink at the sight of such a weapon. Strange and the others averted their gaze to avoid being drawn into the spear’s abyssal pull.

“Impressive, but futile,” Chthon declared, preparing to strike.

Just then, black energy began to gather in Wang Yan’s hand. Chthon paused, astonished. Not because the magic was unfamiliar—many dark sorcerers could wield such spells—but because Wang Yan’s conjured spear seemed nearly as powerful as his own.

“Impossible,” Chthon muttered, for the first time sensing that this sorcerer might pose a significant threat.

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