33. Cast to Damnation

The world strained and screamed, its laws rejecting the new reality that was being imposed upon it. Time and space ruptured, a violent tear opening in the fabric of eternity.

Eldritch power and fae light danced on the air, a simple byproduct of a much greater working. For most practitioners of the hidden arts such a working would have been beyond their means, a feat worthy of their wildest dreams. But the one responsible for such was not most practitioners.

Stephen Strange did his best to keep his breathing calm. The wards that had protected the location he now found himself in had been strong beyond reason. If Strange had to bet he would say that no more than ten sorcerers in the entirety of Earth could hope to punch through them, even less if they were expected to do something else but pass out from the effort.

And the wards were not only strong but also different. The way the arcane constructs had reshaped the local laws of reality was unlike anything Strange had ever seen, at least until one year ago that is.

But arcane wards were nothing but a locked door of the immaterial and for all that this metaphorical door was different, it was still a door. It did not matter if a door was made of wood, clay or steel when one carried a ram and Strange had the biggest ram of all.

Nevertheless, it was a draining experience, he had already exerted too much power already and even such a (for him at least) small feat of working was a tiring affair. He had to solve his issues here and be done with quickly, for he had not the time nor the energy to waste in petty matters.

It was then that Strange saw the reason for.his presence there.

The Sorcerer Supreme's target was there. A towering, imposing and powerful being. It had long let go of its mortal coil and now wore a form of pure power. Tall and strong, fleshless and reeking of magic. A body animated fully by arcana, no biological or natural function remained. If it had once been human that time had long passed.

Chalk white bones, magnificent robes and jewels pulsated with Power. The energies of the unseen coiling around the being as light around a black hole. Power calls to Power and Strange could feel this being's siren-like song.

But Strange was no initiate still learning the ways of the occult, nor was he a mere practitioner of its arts. Strange was a being of Power himself and as easily as he heard the call so did he rebut it. Instead, he looked at the being, Ainz Ooal Gown, and spoke.

"You have much to answer for." Strange let a trace of Power sprinkle his voice. The implication that he was not in the mood for games clear.

A second later he felt his own defenses strain under the impact of magic. His heart should have burst, his lungs decayed away, his limbs broken and his chest caved in under a spear of kinetic force. In a thousand and one ways should he have died, his body a battered ruin. But die he did not.

For Strange was the Sorcerer Supreme, the one above all.

Even then, it took a conscious effort to reinforce his barriers. The expenditure of Power in such a trifling matter paining him, for Power always had a cost and he was remiss to pay for more.

Eventually, though it did not take more than a second, the attacks relented and, seeing that he was still alive, his attackers changed tactics.

A dozen many-limbed insect-like, if humanoid, beings he could not perceive with any of his human senses clashed against his shields, their innate magic straining against Strange's own. But it was of no matter, for they couldn't get past it and as quickly as they had attacked they disappeared back into the shadows.

Strange was sure that would not be their last attempt, nor were they the only ones pinning for his life, as he could clearly perceive dozens of other magical beings as they readied to leap on him and tear him apart. He feared an example would need to be made and as matters stood he felt no joy in it.

Thankfully the universe would prove him wrong.

The being, Ainz Ooal Gown, raised his left hand. The gesture was majestic and full of power, both the mundane and not. Instantly all attacks ceased, the buzzing of magic power going quiet as warriors blended back into the shadows they had sprung from.

Strange almost let his relief show, for he had not noticed the level of strain such attacks had lain upon him.

"And who may you be?" Asked the undead archmage, for he was surely one. Strange couldn't decide if his question was honest or simple protocol but he decided to answer anyway.

"Pardon me for my lack of manners, I am Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme and I have a great many things to discuss with you." Strange gave a shallow bow, never breaking eye contact.

"Hm, so you say," the skeleton's empty orbs flared as the fae fire within grew, "but I do not know you nor have I ever met any 'Sorcerer Supreme'. Neither do I remember inviting anyone with that title. Did I perhaps insult you somehow? Do you know anything Doom"

Only then did Strange notice who stood beside the skeleton. Whereas Ainz was a flaming sea of Power, his domain of the arcane clear to anyone who could See, Doom was almost invisible. His armor was a black hole, barely a blip in the proverbial radar of a practitioner or even a so called 'magic user'. His own personal strength so deeply tied to it, that it was almost impossible to differentiate and thus perfectly masked. Yet his presence was more than enough to put Strange on guard, for Doom was not one to be trifled with.

"I do not, Gown," said Doom before locking eyes with Strange. "What brings you here Strange? If it is a fight you seek then I, Doom, will honour my oath and meet you in the field of battle alongside my ally."

Strange barely hid his surprise, for Doom to be so close to the skeleton as to be ready to jump to his defence without consideration…

This bodes badly for the world.

Regardless, Strange was not one to be pushed around and if it came down to it he would fight both the skeleton archmage and the mighty techno sorcerer. Of course, that was not his objective.

"I came to speak with the archmage known as Ainz Ooal Gown and in my nature, as Sorcerer Supreme I demand he answers."

The skeleton looked at him, his undead visage inscrutable to Strange's human mind. Yet he could not help but feel he was being silently evaluated, judged.

"I don't like your lack of courtesy, but if a talk is what you want then I see no reason to deny your request, that I promise."

Strange relaxed at the skeleton's words. Between those who have truly mastered Power, promises were something not to take lightly and if the undead had promised to listen to him then listen he would.

"That is good then, but I must insist we go to a more... private venue." As he looked around Strange finally noticed the well-dressed state officials, diplomats, and military men. While he had been in a hurry to meet the undead archmage, Strange was starting to doubt the place he chose to confront Ainz was the best.

"That is acceptable," answered the undead genially before looking at his sides, "shall we go?"

"If you don't mind, I will go back with my people. While I'm ready to help if our dear Sorcerer decides you are his enemy, I feel whatever issues bring him here are best dealt by you and Doom. Don't you agree?" Only then did Strange notice that Doom wasn't the only villain present. In his fixation upon the magical threats, Strange had completely missed a mundane one. The powerful mutant and leader of Genosha, Magneto.

"You are free to do as you see fit," answered Ainz with a shrug, marvelling Strange with how human the gesture was and how utterly unnatural it looked when coming from the undead.

With grace worthy of a dancer, the skeleton turned around and looked at the confused guests. Raising his powerful baritone voice to be heard everywhere in the hall.

"I must apologize, but this matter requires my attention. Please continue with the meal, I will be back shortly." Strange was impressed with the undead's certainty. While the possibility that it was a bluff existed, Strange had a feeling that Ainz was as confident as he appeared. Which meant he was either a fool or extremely dangerous, and Strange was loathe to find which.

They walked a short way, leaving the hall and entering a small conference room close by. The room was sparsely decorated but for a small table, some chairs and a cabinet full of expensive drinks. Strange assumed the room was probably utilized by the wealthy men who frequented the hotel when they needed privacy.

But even as his mundane sense took in his new surroundings, so did Strange's magical eye did the same. The results weren't surprising.

The room glowed with Power, by both the wards and other protections laid upon the room and the half a dozen forms that scurried in the shadows, their innate magic a dark and almost impossible to perceive thing, even for one such as him. Their hostile intent, yet continued passiveness marking them as Ainz's bodyguards.

Strange reflected once again upon the maelstrom of power that was the undead standing before him. In most cases a practitioner was nothing but a conduit of power, wielding it as they saw fit but never actually containing it inside them. This meant that leakages of mystical energy were common for untrained practitioners and almost unthinkable for those of Strange, or the skeleton's, tier. If one capable of controlling such energies could not wield or properly mask them… Strange shuddered at the thought.

But then again, every instinct and ingrained experience told Strange that the so-called 'Supreme King' was no weak-minded fool. His power was real and his control even more so.

So if the possibility that he is a deranged creature about to lose control of the power under his command was discarded and having power inside his body which was simply leaking, as if heat from an engine, was even more improbable then only one option remained.

So he is playing games with me then? Showing off?

Just as Strange though this did the maelstrom of power that surrounded the undead king disappear. As absorbed as he was in his thoughts, Strange never noticed how Ainz had slipped a ring on his hand a second before his leakage of power cut off.

Now the meaning became clear. The undead archmage was trying to assert dominance over Strange. His show of 'incompetence' nothing more than a cheap provocation to try and goad Strange into unwise action. Sadly for him, Strange wasn't one to jump to action with undue consideration.

But I can't say I'm surprised, this is exactly like something Doom would do. I can already see why they get on so well.

"So," spoke the undead suddenly, "if I may inquire as to your reason for this visit?" The undead was perfectly cordial as he spoke, everything from his posture to his inflection showing nothing but amicable curiosity and Strange decided that it was better to pay in kind. As angry as he was at Ainz's transgressions, he knew not to be confrontative unless necessary. For this reason his arrival to the obvious party -especially one with so many important figures- was nothing but an embarrassment for him. But the Sorcerer Supreme wasn't one to dwell on past mistakes, the now and the future always something more important in his view.

Strange thought the question over, thinking about whether he should be direct with the undead practitioner or not before finally settling for honesty.

While they hadn't talked much, Strange thought he had gotten a good read on the archmage's personality. A being of Power, a creature of the hidden world, Ainz Ooal Gown wasn't someone patient with issues that didn't pertain to the mystical arts as shown by his not at all subtle reaction to the attacks by the Canadian government.

"Like I said you have much to answer for." Strange wondered if Ainz would try to protest, but he just remained silent, "What you did has endangered the lives of millions and for it alone you should be punished."

The skeleton looked at him, the fae light of his eyes shining weakly. "What I did huh? And what did I exactly do?"

"You know what you did." Strange spoke, his words terse.

"Oh, maybe but please do tell it, if only for the sake of my companion." Ainz tilted his head towards Doom, who had remained silent so far.

Strange frowned at the undead's strange provocation, but could find no reason to it. There was no point in feigning ignorance, as Strange was sure Ainz knew his crime.

"Exactly thirteen months ago, during the new moon and when the walls between the real and what lays beyond are thinner you and your ilk broke through from wherever you come from. Your reckless actions left a gaping hole in reality, letting horrors that I and those that came before me have been fighting since the dawn of time enter this world." Strange's words were full of anger and with good reason.

He could still remember that day as if it were yesterday, and in a way it was. He had been meditating in his sanctum when every artifact, ward and mystical sense had screamed. The world had cried in pain as reality was undone on a massive scale.

Strange had fallen to the ground, convulsing, as he listened to unspeakable things, from Dormammu's demented laughter to the eternal birthing/dying screams of the elder beings. From the bleat of Iä Shub-Niggurath's children to the terrible song of Yivocn'vhih the Sleeper. Even more, Strange heard the clank of the chains that held the Great Beasts trapped, the thought-steel of a power beyond even the Sorcerer Supreme's strained as their links weakened, the savage monsters they held coming fully awake as they tried to force their wills back into the world of Man.

For a second, as the walls that separated reality from the other realms broke down, Strange was exposed to the full cacophony of madness that was the nonexistence where gods and dark things laid.

But as quickly as it came so did it disappear, the walls between what is and what may be/was/will be reasserting once again. The entire experience lasting nothing more than a second, but to Strange, it felt like an eternity.

But as he had laid on the ground, panting and heaving for breath as he tried to understand what had taken place a moment before, he was grimly reminded that he hardly ever had time to think during a crisis.

Something with far too many teeth and limbs had jumped at him from the shadows, its brown body smelling a strange mix of decay and freshly cut grass. The creature's limbs, too many to count, had punched and clawed and bitten at Strange's hastily erected shields. Eldritch whispers came from its many mouths as it bit at Strange's defenses, but it was to no avail.

Finally gathering his wits, Strange had called forth the power of the Vishanti, that alongside his own fury and fear at the thing attacking him turning the gathered energy into a beam of pure purifying power, the golden light of energy purging the eldritch creature in a second.

But Strange would not get time to rest, nor time to even try to understand what had happened, for by calling forth the power of the Vishanti Strange had made a great mistake. He had reminded them of his existence and thus the covenant that united them to him and he to them. One that gave him great power at the expense of his obligation to serve at their beck and call and answer their summons whenever they may come.

Something they were suddenly very eager to do.

A portal opened and that he was forced, not through physical or violent means but the sheer Power of their contract.

Strange could not, would not, remember what came next, as everything became a blur of motion, fire and cold and death.

His next coherent memory would be him waking up back inside his sanctum, Wong's concerned face looking down at his prone form. Strange's body was full of new mysterious scars, his clothes tattered into rags and his power as close to exhausted as it had ever been.

That was one month ago.

What had followed had been unpleasant, to say the least.

Learning of the new magical being who had taken over an entire nation or the increased attacks by supernatural creatures, of the way magic had been unpredictable ever since that fateful day 12 months before. It had been a great weight, one which had fallen upon Strange's back all at once when he was at his weakest.

But he was the Sorcerer Supreme and the title was not for show. Everything from cultists eager to call forth their dark masters, to abominations preying upon the weak had fallen against his might. Even as his battered body begged for rest, and his magic flickered and failed, the entities who provided its power strangely silent, Strange had bested them all.

And now, now he was facing the one he was sure was guilty of all that had happened.

He looked at Ainz, eye to eye, and spoke "I know you are not from this realm. I can feel the otherness of your magic as we speak, so there is no point in hiding it."

The undead simply stared at Strange, his face as impassive as always. Strange knew this being was not one for careful deceit, the undead's Power great enough not to warrant more than the minimum caution, reason why he silently prepared for an attack. If the undead knew Strange was aware of his extra-planar origin then chances were Ainz would force a confrontation to silence him.

He certainly wasn't expecting Ainz's answer.

"Hmmm, that's true. I did come from another world altogether. But if I may correct you on one thing, I want to make it clear I did not bring myself here, nor any of my people. The means by which we arrived here are a complete mystery but..." the skeleton paused, his fleshless face making it impossible for Strange to know what it was thinking,

"I wonder, do you perhaps know how we came to be here? Or maybe, did someone else from my world arrive too?" Ainz's words had a certain eagerness much too clear to Strange.

With the undead's words came a surge of magic. A compulsion of terror and desperation hitting Strange like a truck. He felt his wards tighten against the onrushing tide and much like a rock breaks a tidal wave, so did his defenses break the undead's mental attack.

"Do you expect me to believe an adept of your level does not know how such a working was cast upon him?" asked an incensed Strange, his body readying to fight due to Ainz's actions.

Strange had come expecting a powerful practitioner, true, but he was honestly surprised by the undead's strength. On the other hand, the undead wasn't showing himself to be as subtle and crafty as Strange had been warned he would be. To Strange it felt as if the undead could barely restrain his power as it was, eager to make use of it one way or another. Chances were they would now be forced to fight.

"We do not expect you to do anything, Sorcerer," spoke Doom for the first time, "but Gown does indeed speak the truth, for even I, Victor von Doom, am unable to understand by which means he has been brought here and if I do not know the answer then I assure you no one else does."

Strange knew Doom wasn't someone worth trusting, yet he could feel the sincerity in the sorcerer-engineer's words. His indignation at not knowing clear to anyone even passingly familiar with Doom. Nor could Strange deny the Power that came with Doom's words, men may lie and steal as they saw fit, but magic was too honest for it to work. Power was Power no matter what and when one spoke with it, one had to remain truthful to what one was, else he risk being proved unworthy.

Of course, if they were telling the truth then it meant Strange had no other clues. Everything had pointed at the undead archmage as the one responsible for what most adepts and other practitioners were already calling The Disruption, but if Ainz Ooal Gown was truly as uninvolved as he said he was then Strange had no idea who could be responsible. Gods and demons of such power did exist, but none of them could influence the barriers between realms as easily or else they would have invaded the Earth long ago.

Thus, for this reason, Strange found himself facing a conundrum. The creature before him was one that needed to be taken care of, yet when compared to whoever, or whatever, was playing with the fabric of reality and causing so much widespread damage, the undead no matter how much he was responsible for, was still the lesser evil. So while Strange was sure he could defeat the undead, he didn't know if he should.

The presence of Doom made it worse, as Strange knew of the other sorcerer's powers and keen mind and wasn't eager to fight him alongside an enemy with as much strength as Ainz Ooal Gown.

But before Strange could decide on a course of action Ainz spoke once again.

"It seems you are as interested in this phenomena as Doom and I are. Perhaps we could work together to discover what happened? I'm sure there is much I can offer you." The undead's words were sweet, like a devil promising eternal life at the small cost of your soul. Yet as far as Strange could tell there was no duplicity in Ainz's words, whatever the undead was promising he was doing it in good faith.

The offer was tempting. As powerful and knowledgeable as Strange was, he knew he was in over his head. Whatever had almost shattered the barriers of the world had done so with such a power and impact that the aftermath alone would be felt for decades. Strange was the greatest of mortal sorcerers but he was a mortal still, even if he would never die of old age.

The kind of knowledge and lore a being such as Ainz Ooal Gown would have access to was hard to imagine, even more so if Doom were to be included. But a problem remained, one that Strange could not ignore.

"No." The word was softly spoken, barely a whisper, but it was imbued with so much Power that the room seemed to shake. "I will accept that you are not responsible for the Disruption, but I won't ally with you under any circumstance."

As he spoke Strange silently called forth his power, a tear in reality opening behind him, this time with much less effort than what it took to arrive.

"Uh, that's unfortunate. Maybe-" Started the undead before Strange cut him off.

"Do not misunderstand. I have come here to see you with my own eyes and I have found you are not the danger to the world I believed you were, nor as evil as you seemed. But that does not change your nature or the threat you pose to humanity." By now every last syllable was brimming with Power, Strange's voice taking on an eerie quality. "But that does not mean I have forgotten what you are. So, for now, I will leave you alone, but if you do step out of line I will be there to end you."

"Those are dangerous words, Strange." Doom's words were not as much of a threat as a statement.

"And I mean every last one of them, Doom. I do not know what you are expecting to gain from this creature but he is dangerous and he isn't your friend. You would do well to remember that." Doom's eyes narrowed but he didn't say anything else.

Strange had been around long enough to know what kind of monster Ainz Ooal Gown was. There was no cruelty, no special sadism on his part. The undead didn't feel glee at seeing his enemies turned into corpses, nor did he take any joy when inflicting pain and misery. There were few, if any at all, grand plans to take over the world. Such beings were content with their power, both mundane and of the other kind, and didn't feel the need to attain more. They were indifferent to the life and death of everything that surrounded and as liable to help you out as they were to let you die while they watched.

It was said that when good men do nothing, evil triumphs. But Ainz Ooal Gown wasn't a good man, nor was he evil, he just was and such creatures could only end up destroying everything they touched. They were giants playing with ants and even if there was no malice involved, the ant still died at the end.

"I have hardly done anything to deserve such hostility. I have only defended myself and never caused undue harm to anyone." protested Ainz.

"Oh, I'm sure that's what most people will believe, but I know better." Strange's eyes were cold as he spoke, the weariness that had plagued him gone, "I know better."

"I know what you did to Alpha Flight." And with those words, he was gone.

---

AN:

And done.

This has been sitting half written for 2 weeks, but I always had something to do and I could never sit down and finish it (I actually had a final yesterday).

Well, I know this is probably somewhat disappointing and I did have something else planned, but things™ happened. So you will have to make do with just this.

[PRESENT CHAPTER]