Chapter 58: The Divergence of Fate

After the Ancient One left, Mei Mumu anxiously prepared for battle.

In the original story, after Kaecilius was saved, he immediately doubled back and launched a surprise attack, handily defeating Doctor Strange and Mordo on the spot.

But…

Mei Mumu waited in the main hall for quite some time—though in truth, it was only twenty minutes—and nothing happened at all. Instead, Mordo managed to repair as many as seven magical arrays, after which the portal to Kamar-Taj opened.

The Ancient One returned once more.

Mei Mumu blinked in surprise: Was my heightened vigilance all for nothing? Did I just put on a show for the blind?

Behind the Ancient One, a group of sorcerers filed out through the portal.

“Master Hamir, I suppose he needs no introduction?” The Ancient One raised a hand to make the introduction all the same.

Mei Mumu was no stranger to the sorcerer, who looked distinctly like a Taoist priest from the Celestial Empire. It was this very man who had once stunned Doctor Strange in the original tale with his “No-Handed Technique.”

He was a powerful combat sorcerer, but unfortunately, a mute—utterly loyal in executing orders, yet incapable of offering advice or even simple feedback.

Mei Mumu nodded, feeling much more at ease with Old Hamir present.

As the sorcerers took their places, Mei Mumu suddenly noticed that, beyond those in the front row, everyone in the back bore the very same apprentice’s badge as he wore—they were all magical apprentices.

The Ancient One produced a golden badge, identical in design to the symbol of Kamar-Taj, but distinguished by its color. “To honor Apprentice Mei Mumu for his valor in protecting the world, for slaying twelve fallen full-fledged sorcerers and wounding the zealot Kaecilius, I hereby formally announce Mei Mumu’s promotion to full sorcerer of Kamar-Taj.”

As the Ancient One solemnly pinned the badge to Mei Mumu’s chest, the envy in the eyes of the surrounding apprentices—and even the sorcerers—was unmistakable.

This was nothing short of meteoric rise.

To think that only months ago, Mei Mumu had been hunted by the fallen, slain like a dog, and forced to flee into the safety of Kamar-Taj’s protection, battered and desperate.

Who could have imagined that, in just a few months, he would transform and ascend—not only attaining the strength of a full sorcerer but now ranking among the mightiest?

The returned Sorcerer Daniel had repeatedly attested to Mei Mumu’s courage and feats, declaring that without him, both Daniel and the New York Sanctum would have been lost.

Such concrete achievements left little room for jealousy.

Strictly speaking, the fallen from Kamar-Taj were once the radicals—its toughest group of sorcerers.

Who would have thought a mere apprentice could dispatch so many with such ease?

The Ancient One announced, “Fifteen, including Sorcerer Mordo, Sorcerer Hamir, and Sorcerer Losant, will be temporarily assigned under the command of Sorcerer Mei Mumu, acting Guardian of the New York Sanctum. You are to follow his instructions completely until the London Sanctum is restored. We may soon face a fierce battle, but this is a fight to defend Earth and all mankind. Spare no effort; is that understood?”

“Understood!” the fifteen replied in unison.

Where justice was concerned, there could be no failure. Though many were to take the field for the first time and were understandably anxious, Mei Mumu had wounded Kaecilius himself—surely, following him offered a measure of safety.

“Very well, Mei Mumu, I leave things here in your hands. I must return to Kamar-Taj,” the Ancient One instructed.

“Master.”

“Yes?”

Mei Mumu hesitated, then asked, “Is there anything else in Kamar-Taj that is absolutely essential to protect? I mean, since the three Sanctums are so important, why not concentrate all our strength there? Including yourself, Master.”

The Ancient One gently flicked her sleeve. “To this day, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve averted the world’s destruction. Mei Mumu, remember this: humanity’s enemies are never just one group. Nor is Dormammu the only one coveting the Earth. Even now, there are powerful demons and dark entities lurking, watching for any slip in Kamar-Taj’s defenses, eager for us to show weakness. Moreover, I must ensure Kamar-Taj’s capacity to replenish and nurture talent for the three Sanctums.”

Mei Mumu bowed deeply. “I understand. I will remember your words and remain ever vigilant.”

“Good. Remember, magical detection is not one hundred percent reliable. If anything happens, contact me by magical message, phone, or any means you can think of.” With these final instructions, the Ancient One departed.

After she left, everyone turned to Mei Mumu, awaiting the orders of their new guardian.

Mei Mumu glanced at his watch. “It’s one in the afternoon. There’s still a fair amount of time before nightfall. Master Hamir, please take the two strongest apprentices and stand guard here in the main hall. With the magical defenses repaired, this is Kaecilius’s only possible breach.”

Hamir, silent as ever, selected two apprentices with his good right hand and positioned himself at the side of the hall, closing his eyes to meditate.

Mei Mumu casually picked five others to handle chores—clearing out enemy corpses from the Sanctum and preparing food and lodging for everyone.

Finally, Mei Mumu’s gaze fell on Mordo, noting the eagerness in the man’s expression, as if his face was pleading, “Give me something important to do!”

“Mordo, do you remember what I told you about their weaknesses?”

“I do!”

“The fallen are still human. With the exception of Kaecilius, the rest will die if struck at a vital point or grievously wounded, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“Excellent! Then let’s try something special…”

Elsewhere, in a church thick with the stench of blood, the fanatics had just slaughtered nearly a hundred townspeople attending mass to prepare the altar for Dormammu’s summoning.

This was a remote American town, the sort of place where people were few and far between; after this church’s congregation was wiped out, there wasn’t another soul for a hundred miles.

The church’s cross had already been toppled, now planted upside down in the earth.

Kaecilius knelt in a pool of viscous black liquid, nearly forty centimeters deep, his face almost pressed to its roiling surface.

The stained-glass windows no longer offered any view of the outside world; there was nothing but utter darkness. Through the thinner patches of blackness, one might glimpse scattered “planets,” but all was shrouded in deeper, more oppressive night.

A face as vast as an entire planet loomed from the darkness, and a voice thundered, “Kaecilius, you have greatly disappointed me!”

“Forgive me! I never imagined they would use the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak! I was caught off guard!” Kaecilius trembled, the black liquid flooding into his chest causing him unspeakable agony.

Should the Lord of Darkness will it, he could crush Kaecilius’s heart at any moment.

Yet the name Cyttorak had clearly provoked a reaction from Dormammu.