Levi's clone stepped forward, his foot landing on the first step of the altar.
Buzz—!
The Darkhold trembled violently. Dense black light burst from its pages, transforming into a storm of magical arrows that screamed through the air toward him.
The clone didn't even lift his eyelids.
The invisible domain of the Death Law activated automatically. Every black arrow that entered within three meters of him withered instantly, dissolving into wisps of smoke.
He stepped onto the second tier.
The Darkhold shrieked more sharply, its pages flipping wildly.
A massive black magic circle formed in the air above the altar. Countless twisted runes spun within it, releasing a crushing pressure capable of shattering even a Sorcerer Supreme's mind.
The clone raised his right hand. The light of the Alchemy Law ignited in his palm.
To his eyes, the incomprehensibly complex formation was nothing more than energy particles arranged by specific rules. His fingers clenched slightly, and an invisible force intervened, forcibly rewriting the underlying logic of those particles.
The entire formation collapsed like a tower with its foundation removed, shattering into countless black motes.
The third step.
The Darkhold ceased all attacks.
It began to tremble violently, its pages fluttering as if in fear.
A frenzied will surged from within, desperately sending a distress signal toward a distant, dark dimension.
It was calling its master—
Chthon.
The clone's smile widened.
No longer taking his time, he crossed the remaining steps in an instant and stood before the Darkhold.
Its pages flipped even faster. Lines of ancient runes formed barriers in the air, trying to keep him out.
He could read them.
"Creation of the Lord of Chaos—mortals shall not defile."
"The supreme knowledge of darkness belongs only to the chosen vessel."
"The fate of the Scarlet Witch is predetermined."
The clone let out a soft chuckle.
"The Scarlet Witch?"
He extended his right hand. A crimson light—chaotic, contradictory, unstable—flickered in his palm.
It was the Chaos Magic he had copied from Wanda in the main universe.
"Are you talking about… this?"
The Darkhold froze.
It sensed that familiar yet tamed power. Slowly, its pages closed. All resistance vanished in an instant.
It could not comprehend why a man possessed the power meant solely for the Scarlet Witch.
The clone gave it no time to process.
Mental Law—activate!
His consciousness transformed into countless invisible needles, piercing straight into the book.
Unlike the orderly library within the Book of Vishanti, the interior of the Darkhold was a chaotic void—no rules, no logic. Only endless madness, distorted knowledge, and the corruptive will left behind by Chthon.
But before someone who had mastered eleven laws, such chaos was nothing more than a landfill waiting to be cleared.
With the Mental Law as a spear, he carved a path through the chaos.
With the Death Law as a shield, he erased every whisper that sought to corrupt him.
With the Alchemy Law as his hands, he dismantled, analyzed, and absorbed the principles of dark knowledge and Chaos Magic.
Thirty seconds later, he withdrew his hand.
The Darkhold lost all its light and fell from the air, landing on the altar with a dull thud.
It was still the same book—but the malevolent will within it, and its connection to Chthon across dimensions, had been completely and permanently severed.
The clone looked down at his hands.
In his left palm, a gentle white glow symbolizing order and light appeared.
In his right, a deep black radiance representing chaos and darkness flowed quietly.
Light and dark. Order and chaos.
Within him, they had reached a higher balance.
He nodded in satisfaction.
At that moment, his mental force caught a subtle disturbance.
Thousands of miles away—in Westview, New Jersey.
A red-haired woman slicing carrots in her kitchen suddenly froze. A flash of crimson flickered in her eyes. The air around her began to warp, almost imperceptibly.
The clone raised an eyebrow.
By purging the Darkhold, he hadn't just severed its link to Chthon—he had inadvertently disrupted a delicate balance within this universe's magical system.
And that woman—
Wanda Maximoff of this universe—
the Chaos Magic dormant within her was now fully awakened by that imbalance.
She was awakening.
The clone had no intention of going to her.
This Wanda was different from the one he knew. She had her own life—a seemingly perfect family, even if it might only be an illusion created subconsciously through her magic.
But what of it?
Everyone had the right to choose their life—even if that happiness was false.
He wasn't a savior, nor did he care to interfere in someone else's story.
He had come for one purpose only—
To take what he wanted.
And now, that purpose was fulfilled.
Just as he turned to tear open space, another disturbance reached him—
far more distant, yet far more familiar.
It came from the main universe.
Across the sea of dimensions, he sensed a sealed existence stirring violently.
Chthon.
The ancient god had clearly noticed that his most important anchor—the Darkhold—had been cut off.
The fluctuation carried overwhelming rage…
and a faint trace of fear.
The clone's smile widened fully.
Interesting.
Today's actions hadn't just shaken the magical foundation of Universe 838—they had alerted an ancient demon god across infinite space.
But that wasn't a bad thing.
The more agitated Chthon became, the more flaws he would reveal.
When Levi returned, he could take this opportunity to eliminate this hidden threat once and for all.
He raised his hand, tracing a smooth arc in the air.
Golden sparks burst forth as a portal to the Meteorite Base slowly opened.
Before stepping in, the clone cast one last glance back—first toward the depths of Mount Wundagore, then toward Westview.
Two women. Two destinies.
One awakening.
One bearing a seal.
Both tied intricately to Chaos Magic—destined to become key pieces on the grand chessboard of the multiverse.
As for where they would go—
That would be their choice.
Withdrawing his gaze, the clone stepped into the portal. A flash of gold—and he was gone.
Mount Wundagore returned to its ancient silence.
But something had changed.
With the Darkhold purified, the mountain's dark magic began to dissipate irreversibly.
Far away, in Westview, the red-haired woman finally snapped out of her daze.
She looked down at her hands in confusion.
A faint—yet undeniably real—crimson light flickered at her fingertips.
She didn't know what it was.
But she could feel it—
Something ancient, powerful… something that belonged solely to her—
was slowly awakening deep within her blood.
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