Inside the military aircraft cruising at high altitude, everything suddenly dissolved into chaos. The cabin—once orderly—was now filled with desperate screams.
Just moments ago, the plane had been flying smoothly when a figure wreathed in flames smashed through a window without warning. In a blink, he tore through the soldiers on board, collapsing any resistance before it could even form.
After that, the intruder paced the cabin back and forth, touching each person in turn—dragging them into sleep one by one. In the end, even the President was no exception.
The moment the President fell asleep, his body went limp and slid out of the plush seat.
The intruder casually kicked him aside, dropped into the luxurious chair himself, and waited in silence.
He was waiting for the guests who were about to arrive.
Sure enough, only a few minutes later, two figures ripped open the aircraft's armored plating and stepped into the cabin, squaring off tensely with the intruder.
Killian's expression was icy as he sized them up.
One of them was wrapped in an iron suit—Tony Stark, the man he loathed more than anything.
The other wore a cloak that shimmered like finely embroidered silver starlight. That had to be the true target of this operation: the rumored, powerful, mysterious Sorcerer Supreme.
Under their gaze, Killian felt like he'd reached the peak of his life.
Tony Stark—once untouchable in his eyes—now had to acknowledge him, had to treat him as a real threat, had to worry he might "cash in" his hostage at any second.
Even the Sorcerer Supreme couldn't move casually, not with the President right beside him.
A wild, arrogant smile curled on Killian's lips. He lifted one foot and stomped down hard on the President's head.
Then he looked at Harry and Tony with relaxed ease and laughed out loud.
"Look who showed up. The famous Tony Stark… and the mysterious, powerful Sorcerer Supreme.
Good afternoon, gentlemen. Want a drink?"
Unhurried, Killian picked up a bottle of expensive Napa Cabernet, tilted it slowly, and let the dark red wine pour into a crystal glass.
He didn't even raise his eyes—completely ignoring the standoff—then tipped his head back and drained the glass in one go, brazen and unrestrained.
Tony studied him for a beat, then strolled to a seat opposite as if he were arriving at a dinner party. He sat gracefully, took the wine, poured himself a glass, and asked in a casual tone:
"I'm curious. With the tech you have, locking onto the President's location this quickly should be basically impossible.
Unless someone inside the government sold you the President's likely flight route.
So tell me—who's the traitor?"
Killian let out a mocking chuckle.
"Stark, you're still as arrogant as ever. Even now you can act like nothing's wrong. You don't actually think this is still under your control, do you?
But I'm in a good mood today. Fine. I'll tell you.
It was the Vice President who handed me the information."
"The Vice President?!"
"What's with the shock?" Killian shrugged. "Everyone knows the Vice President and the President don't get along. And he's got a granddaughter who can't walk. What's wrong with wanting to use the Extremis virus to heal her? He's just a pathetic man I tricked."
Tony forced down the anger burning in his chest and snapped, "Killian—what's your goal? You're creating Extremis-infected people in bulk, and you're even pulling them into dreams!"
Killian narrowed his eyes slightly, drinking in Tony's restrained fury and obvious displeasure. A surge of twisted satisfaction rose in him, as if years of bitterness were finally pouring out.
Then, slowly, he shifted his gaze away from Tony and onto Harry. A meaningful smile surfaced—one laced with condescension.
"Oh, so you're the Sorcerer Supreme. In the name of my master—Nightmare—I want to make a deal with you."
He said it like it was a gift. Like negotiating with Harry in Nightmare's name was an act of charity.
The reaction he got was… not what he expected.
Harry and Tony both looked at him the way you'd look at an idiot.
Their expressions made Killian's brow crease. He quickly added, trying to smooth it over:
"I don't think you understand what Nightmare means. He's a dimensional demon god who can roam the multiverse.
You so-called superheroes can swagger around on Earth, sure—but in the wider universe you're nothing, and compared to the multiverse you're even less.
So be smart. Come with me to the Dream Dimension. Maybe the great demon god will even reward you."
Killian finished and stared at them smugly, convinced the situation was already solved—that the Sorcerer Supreme and Stark would "rationally" accept.
Instead, the looks they gave him only grew stranger.
Killian's irritation spiked. His tone turned sharp and annoyed.
"What? Is there a problem? To the great demon god, even the whole universe is just a toy—let alone a couple of superheroes.
So your best choice is to come with me to the Dream Dimension and accept the judgment of the mighty Nightmare!"
Tony finally couldn't hold it in. He threw his head back and burst into laughter.
"Hahaha—Killian, you're seriously just a clueless idiot. You don't understand anything, and Nightmare's been using you like a pawn this whole time."
For some reason, the moment Tony said that, a hard knot of unease slammed into Killian's gut.
"What do you mean?"
Tony spread his hands helplessly, his voice dripping with amusement.
"You don't actually think Nightmare is Harry's match, do you? If he were, why wouldn't he just come to Earth himself?
Why would he need you to drag a ton of civilians into dreamspace—just to lure Harry into it?"
Killian sucked in a breath and forced himself to stay steady, sneering as he answered:
"Ridiculous. No matter how strong the Sorcerer Supreme is, he's still just a mortal. Mortals can't compare to a demon god.
The fact that the great demon god even spares him a sliver of attention is already an honor. Why would he personally descend for someone like him?"
Tony was about to keep going—but Harry stopped him, because a voice suddenly purred through Harry's mind, alluring and urgent.
Everything is ready. Nightmare will leave the Dream Dimension in half an hour. Get here—now.
With Nightmare about to appear, Harry had no interest in wasting another second on a clown being played like a tool.
He raised his wand and aimed it at Killian. Light flared at the tip—he was clearly about to strike.
Killian didn't flinch. If anything, he opened his arms wider, brimming with confidence.
"My soul has already been preserved by the great demon god. As long as my soul doesn't disperse, this body can resurrect endlessly. You can't kill me."
Harry's face stayed calm. He only said, softly,
"Idiot."
The instant the word left his mouth, the wand's multicolored power snapped into a deep crimson. Harry spoke again, his voice flat and absolute.
"There is no Killian here."
Then chaos magic erupted—powerful enough to rewrite rules—reaching past the surface of reality and striking at the deep strata of causality and fate themselves.
Where chaos magic passed, the laws of reality were like fragile spider silk—twisted, overwritten, rewritten at will.
Without any warning, before Killian could even react, his body was erased by an unseen, supernatural force.
He vanished completely—leaving nothing behind.
At the same moment, in the unimaginably distant Dream Dimension, Killian's enslaved soul trembled violently. A scream of terror and despair tore out from the deepest core of him.
"No… Master—save me!"
But even Nightmare—powerful as he was—couldn't respond in time.
Almost in the same heartbeat, that chaos power traced the thread of causality back to its source and crashed down like an unstoppable tide, annihilating Killian's soul.
In an instant, not even a trace remained.
Gone.
The next moment, a deafening roar shook the Dream Dimension.
"Harry Potter!"
Nightmare's indescribable body—woven from endless baleful light and warped shadow—stared at the spot where Killian's soul had dispersed. After a long moment, he made a decision.
He had to admit it.
The Chaos Controller wasn't just the key to Nightmare's dimensional ascension—to rising into a higher tier of power.
He was also one of the very few beings in the multiverse who could pose a truly lethal threat to Nightmare.
The others who could threaten him were too powerful in their own right; to avoid losing dimensional energy, they wouldn't strike first.
But the Chaos Controller was different.
His methods were impossible to predict, and he didn't care about the cost of dimensional energy at all.
Before this, he had used that terrifying chaos power to destroy three-tenths of Mephisto's dimension in a single blow.
And with the Dream Dimension already hostile to Kamar-Taj, Nightmare knew the truth:
He was extremely likely to be the Chaos Controller's next target.
So Nightmare sent a message to his tool—his daughter.
"Prepare everything in dreamspace. No matter the cost, draw in enough chaos magic.
Once it's done, I'll possess unrivaled power. When that day comes, in this multiverse… I won't fear anyone ever again."
…
Back on Earth, inside the military aircraft, Tony looked at the unconscious President and let out a heavy sigh.
"Harry… there's really no way to wake them up?"
Harry shook his head.
"Their souls are imprisoned in the Dream Dimension. Waking them is almost impossible—unless we can kill Nightmare this time."
Tony drew a deep breath, his voice low and steady.
"Alright. I've never picked a fight at this level in my entire life."
They set the aircraft down at a nearby military base. Then Harry and Tony returned to the floating city above Kamar-Taj. Once all preparations were complete, they lay down and let sleep take them.
They entered dreamspace—
And headed toward a battle to the death with the ruler of dreams.
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