Multiverse: Deathstroke

Chapter 223: Ch.222 Backstab

Chapter 223: Ch.222 Backstab

The Druid, of course, knew the same spell, but he couldn't perform a human sacrifice or anything similar, so he had no way to transfer the debt he was about to face in a short amount of time.

Using different demonic powers built up a debt inside him, and once it reached a certain level, the demon gods would worry that they wouldn't be able to collect, fearing their loans would go unpaid.

It was like a company on the brink of bankruptcy—demon gods would rush in to collect every bit of "money" they could, even dismantling the "counter," "doors," and "sofas"—the very foundation of the company—to settle the debt.

That also meant the Druid would die in an instant, with his organs gutted from the inside.

Even the Sorcerer Supreme, the Ancient One, had to avoid using excessively powerful spells, or even she wouldn't be able to withstand the terrible cost.

But the Druid wasn't going to give up; behind him were his fellow disciples and friends. He had to hold on.

"By the Silver Light of the Moon of Munnopor," the Druid began forming hand signs, silently reciting the spell in his heart. This was a complex dark magic spell—Munnopor's Transference Spell. He intended to forcibly dump his debt onto Gibbor.

"Too slow!" Gibbor's spell was cast faster. He chose a quicker incantation, reciting in his mind far faster than the Druid: "By the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak, bind!"

Cyttorak was the ruler of the Crimson Cosmos, a demon god who enjoyed having fun. He scattered numerous rubies across various dimensions, and those who found them would gain the power of the Crimson Cosmos, becoming his followers. The full power of the ruby could even destroy Earth in a single strike.

Because Cyttorak had so much power, and his entire dimension was crimson, sorcerers frequently borrowed his power, like sneaking a lump of coal from a coal yard in the dead of night.

The infamous villain Juggernaut was a result of Cyttorak's ruby. Even though he merely touched it and didn't fully possess it, he became nearly indestructible, much like the Hulk—a non-mutant hiding among mutants.

At Kamar-Taj, Cyttorak's magic was routinely stolen and taught, and everyone was familiar with the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak, a basic-level spell.

Although it was an entry-level spell, its power was impressive, capable of binding someone by ignoring all other defensive magic.

The Druid, still in his mist form and mid-incantation, was suddenly wrapped in the crimson bands. Magic battles weren't just about power; timing and the choice of spells were equally critical.

A lower-level spell used at the right moment was often more effective than anything else.

The Druid's mind, already clouded by the influence of the phase worms, hadn't allowed him to think clearly. Gibbor kept emphasizing the burden of magical debts, performing his own transference in front of the Druid's eyes.

So the Druid fell into his trap, eager to throw off his magical debt, and Gibbor seized the opportunity.

A battle between sorcerers is as much about tactics and wit as it is about power—there's no room for error.

The energy of the Crimson Cosmos dispersed the mist, returning the Druid to his physical form. Gibbor grinned viciously, raising his blade and charging forward.

The Druid closed his eyes. He had no options left. Dying now would spare him from paying his magical debt, and it might even be easier.

His life flashed before his eyes. He felt death approaching.

"Die! Hahaha!"

Gibbor laughed as he swung his dark blade down.

"Get lost!"

Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice sounded from behind Gibbor, and a figure emerged from the wreckage on the ground. A pale golden dagger shot upward, stabbing directly into Gibbor's backside.

The entire blade sank in, leaving only the owl-shaped hilt exposed, staring innocently at the Druid from the side.

Then, a tremendous force struck, bypassing all of Gibbor's protective magic. The dark arm holding the dagger sent Gibbor flying through the air.

Gibbor felt a sharp pain in his rear, his body uncontrollably soaring higher and higher.

The Druid's mouth hung open, watching in shock as Gibbor, like a falling star, flew over the courtyard walls, across the sky, disappearing from view.

His senior brother was defeated so easily—he never imagined brute strength could achieve such results.

Su Ming had been observing for a while. Watching their magic battle was entertaining, like fireworks. Of course, while watching, he had been subtly adjusting his position, calculating his ambush along Gibbor's path.

He was just a charred head lying on the ground.

Sending Gibbor flying was just standard procedure. With over a hundred tons of strength and a magic-breaking dagger, anyone could achieve the same result.

Not exploding Gibbor on the spot and merely sending him flying was Su Ming showing restraint.

As for Gibbor, who had flown off, he likely wasn't dead. Sorcerers don't die that easily, but severe injuries were inevitable. He wouldn't be participating in this battle anymore. If he was smart, he'd open a portal and retreat rather than come back for a rematch.

Su Ming wasn't planning to kill Gibbor yet—after all, this guy was supposed to be Doctor Strange's enemy in the future. Killing him now would ruin Su Ming's chance of gaining Strange's favor.

Besides, Gibbor wasn't capable of causing much trouble. Su Ming could save him for later when he needed to "harvest the crop."

No need for Strange to pay him in money—he only needed the Time Stone to help Su Ming with a few things.

The black liquid quickly formed into a humanoid shape, the color changing to the black and yellow sacred armor design. The symbiote knew Su Ming liked this color scheme, so it obediently chose something similar.

"Hello, Dr. Druid. Are you hurt?" Su Ming asked with feigned concern, pretending he had just arrived.

The Druid struggled to stand. The crimson bands dissipated after losing their magical power source.

At this moment, he stared at the strange figure before him, with its large, sharp-toothed mouth, unsure of what to say.

This was clearly a monster, but since it was his savior, it would be rude not to respond.

"I'm fine, just need to catch my breath. May I ask who you are?"

"Deathstroke, a mercenary, and a friend of the Ancient One," Su Ming extended his hand to shake the Druid's, but just then, a beam of light shot toward them from behind. He instantly raised his dagger, blocking it. Frost quickly covered the dagger and even Su Ming's arm, encasing it in ice—a water-based dark magic attack.

"Looks like now's not the time for chatting. I'll hold this position. You should use telepathic magic to contact everyone," Su Ming said, not giving the Druid a chance to refuse. Su Ming's arm twisted, shattering the ice, and he charged toward the source of the attack.

The symbiote-enhanced suit greatly boosted his strength and speed, but it offered no resistance to magic. This meant that in the coming battle, Su Ming would have to avoid taking direct magical hits.

The attacker was another brightly dressed mage with a red mohawk.

He had already prepared a new spell and fired it at Su Ming.

A dark green beam shot toward the black-and-yellow figure—a homing spell, impossible to dodge.

But to the mage's shock, just as the spell was about to hit, a large hole suddenly opened in Su Ming's chest. The magic passed right through, and the hole immediately closed. Su Ming didn't even slow down.

The mage was taken aback. Although he had undergone hand-to-hand combat training, judging by how this monster had sent Gibbor flying, he knew he wasn't strong enough to face him.

The dark mage fired another spell, conjuring several illusions that lined up and fired at Su Ming again.

But illusions were useless against the symbiote. It could smell which one was real, detecting the human scent and transmitting the information to Su Ming.

Su Ming dodged only the real beam, ignoring the illusions completely.

The mage began to panic, recklessly casting dark magic spells as if they cost nothing. But Su Ming, in his symbiote suit, dodged every single one with bizarre, fluid movements.

In almost no time, the black-and-yellow mask appeared before the mage's face, exuding a bloody, savage smell.

"No, no!"

Crunch.

The attack didn't come from the gaping maw. Su Ming wasn't in the habit of eating people. Instead, he raised his fist and punched the mage.

The massive fist, the size of a cooking pot, smashed through the mage's chest and out his back, gripping his heart in a bloody hand. With a yank, Su Ming tore it free.

Blood sprayed high into the air as he dropped the heart and crushed it underfoot, already searching for his next target.