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Chapter 13 Marvel's Corrupt Exorcist
🕑 Added 2025-05-10 01:52:04 +0000 UTC"Keep pumping!"
"This guy's built like a tank... 800ml isn't enough! At least a full liter!"
Luke sat casually on a container, directing Kingpin's men as they drained blood from their unconscious boss.
To ensure efficiency, he had even brought along a veterinary needle—the kind usually reserved for large livestock.
Yep.
Straight from the farm. The same ones used for pig injections.
One jab and blood gushed into the tube.
"Damn..."
Luke smirked as he watched the steady flow. "Not much of a fighter, but that blood pressure's impressive."
He looked every bit like a ruthless businessman, overseeing the process like a factory owner squeezing the last bit of value from his workers.
But drawing blood was only half the plan.
Across the warehouse, he had the rest of Kingpin’s goons—many of whom were still dizzy and stumbling—working on something far stranger.
A ritual.
"Do it right!" Luke barked. "No screw-ups!"
"Or next time, you'll be the sacrifice!"
The hardened criminals—murderers, arms dealers, and career thugs—turned pale.
Their hands trembled as they traced arcane symbols in blood, their expressions filled with growing horror.
"Oh God... he's one of those cult lunatics, isn't he?"
"Take out 'cult' and yeah, you're spot on!"
"Did you not hear him? He just threatened to sacrifice us!"
"Shit..."
This was a whole new genre of crime.
Murder? Fine. Smuggling weapons? Easy.
But this?
This was something beyond their understanding.
Their gaze kept flickering toward the strange symbols forming on the floor—symbols they didn’t understand but instinctively feared.
Daredevil, unnoticed in the commotion, edged toward the warehouse exit.
His hand slipped into his pocket, fingers closing around his phone.
Should he call the police? SHIELD? Maybe even the Avengers?
But then he hesitated.
What’s the point?
With the kind of power Luke just displayed, calling the cops would be a joke.
Unless he could call Iron Man or Thor, there wasn’t a force in the city that could stop him.
Then another, far worse realization hit him.
"Wait... Am I part of this?"
Daredevil slapped his forehead in frustration.
He was so caught up in stopping Kingpin, he hadn’t considered what Luke’s real goal was.
Now, by association, he looked like an accomplice in... whatever the hell this was.
At the same time, strange cracks had begun appearing across New York City.
At first, it was just a curiosity—something for local cops to investigate.
But the more they searched, the less sense it made.
Heat radiated from the fissures.
They stretched impossibly deep—bottomless, as far as anyone could tell.
No known natural force could explain them.
The growing phenomenon soon drew the attention of SHIELD.
"So this thing just appeared out of nowhere?"
Grant Ward, a Level 7 SHIELD agent, had been sent to investigate, accompanied by two top-tier scientists—Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons.
"The readings are off the charts," Fitz muttered, staring at his instruments. "Gamma levels are spiking way beyond anything normal."
"Meaning?" Ward asked.
"Meaning..." Fitz exchanged an uneasy glance with Simmons. "This crack isn’t natural. Something—someone—made it."
Ward pressed his earpiece. "Sir, you getting this?"
A familiar voice crackled through the comms.
"Loud and clear. I’m on my way."
Minutes later, a black SUV rolled up to the scene.
A man in black suit stepped out.
Agent Phil Coulson.
A man who, as far as the public knew, had died at Loki’s hands during the Battle of New York.
"Have you pinpointed the energy source?" Coulson asked immediately.
"Not exactly," Simmons admitted. "It's not coming from here. It’s... on the other side."
Coulson’s face darkened. "The other side?"
"Yes, sir." Fitz hesitated before explaining. "This crack—it’s not just a hole. It’s a passage. Like the portals we saw during the Chitauri invasion."
Coulson exhaled sharply.
"Quick!"
"Everyone evacuate! Contact the Avengers--"
Coulson hadn't even finished speaking when--
Suddenly, the ground trembled violently.
The cracks in the pavement widened at an alarming rate, spreading like a jagged wound in the earth. Molten lava spewed out, cascading onto the streets like an erupting volcano, melting asphalt and sending waves of heat rippling through the air.
Then—
A massive red hand burst through the fissure, its clawed fingers gripping the edges like a predator tearing through its cage.
A deep, guttural laugh rumbled through the city.
"Hahahaha..."
N'astirh's enormous form emerged, pulling itself from the fiery depths.
Towering over the street, its demonic body exuded pure malevolence.
With every movement, the air itself shimmered with heat, and nearby structures ignited, flames consuming glass and steel alike.
"A hundred years..." N'astirh growled, his glowing eyes surveying the city. "And I have finally returned."
His towering frame, wreathed in hellfire, radiated an aura of overwhelming dread.
Metal structures near him twisted and melted, crumbling under the sheer intensity of his presence.
"Fragile humans..."
"Feeble creations..."
The demon lord sneered, watching the insignificant mortals flee in terror, their screams like a hymn of worship to his ears.
"Go forth," he commanded, voice reverberating through the ruined streets. "Plunder, my warriors!"
From the widening chasm, an unholy horde poured out.
Hellspawn of every shape and size, their eyes burning with demonic fury, surged into the city like a plague.
The ground was soon crawling with them—grotesque creatures with jagged fangs and talons dripping with malevolence.
They moved in all directions, relentless and unstoppable.
"Mordo!" they howled. "Mordo!! We are coming for you!!!"
Meanwhile, at Kamar-Taj.
Mordo paused mid-stance.
A sudden chill crawled up his spine.
"Achoo!"
He sneezed violently, then glanced around in confusion.
That was the third time today.
"Strange..."
He frowned.
With his enhanced constitution, getting sick wasn’t exactly common.
Dismissing the thought, he tightened his grip on his staff and resumed training.
Diligence was the key to power. Every step forward required discipline, and sweat was the currency of strength.
Back in the warehouse, Luke was also hard at work.
But instead of combat training, he was practicing something arguably more difficult—
His acting skills.
"Great Shadow Demon, I am your devout believer. The world is in peril, and I humbly seek your favor—" He stopped mid-recital, rubbing his chin. "Nah, that sounds too desperate."
Luke was seated cross-legged in the center of a warehouse drenched in an eerie crimson glow.
Strange symbols and inscriptions were scrawled across the floor and walls, painted in fresh blood.
The overwhelming metallic scent filled the air, making it feel more like a slaughterhouse than a hideout.
Behind him, Kingpin stirred, groaning as he regained consciousness.
As soon as he took in his surroundings, his already pale face turned even whiter.
His massive frame trembled—partly from blood loss, but mostly from pure, unfiltered terror.
"Uh..." Kingpin cleared his throat, forcing his voice to stay steady. "Friend, we've done everything you asked. So... can we leave now?"
For the first time in his life, the criminal overlord sounded almost... polite.
Luke turned to face him, eyebrows raised in mock surprise.
"Oh, right. I almost forgot about you guys."
Kingpin swallowed hard.
This young man—this absolute lunatic—was so powerful, so unpredictable, that for the first time, Wilson Fisk felt completely out of his depth.
"You want to leave, huh?" Luke mused. "Sure, sure. I keep my word. I'm a man of integrity."
He stepped forward, casually slapping Kingpin's cheek with the back of his hand, making the crime lord flinch.
"But y'know... this business is dangerous. One day, I might wake up in a bad mood, and... well... accidents happen."
Luke's grin widened, his teeth gleaming in the dim warehouse light.
"So how about this—"
He leaned in, voice dropping to a near whisper.
"Why don’t you start paying a little protection fee? Just a small... monthly 'voluntary' contribution to keep things friendly between us."
...
"Damn it! Why does this shit always happens on a random Friday!? First, the creatures from the sky were invading us, now it's demons from hell, do I need a religion now? Anybody brought a cross?"
Regarding Tony’s complaints on the channel, everyone fell silent.
At that moment, Captain America, Black Widow, Hawkeye, and the others leaped off the Quinjet, diving straight into the battle.
They quickly realized just how formidable these demons were.
Conventional weapons had no effect on them!
Even the weakest hellspawn shrugged off bullets like they were nothing, while the larger demons tore through the battlefield like living war machines, leaving destruction in their wake.
"Has anyone contacted Thor?" Steve asked between gritted teeth, smashing his shield into a demon's snarling face.
"How? Call him?" Natasha quipped, flipping over a demon's swing. "Pretty sure Asgard doesn’t have a customer service line."
"Why isn’t the military here yet?" Clint grumbled as he loosed an explosive arrow. "Bunch of freeloaders!"
"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" Tony was throwing everything he had at the creatures—repulsors, micro-missiles, lasers.
He was barely making a dent.
There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of demons still flooding in.
The pressure was mounting, and Tony could feel his old anxiety clawing at the edges of his mind.
His hands clenched inside his suit, a creeping sense of helplessness setting in.
"Calm down, Tony," a familiar voice cut through the Avengers' channel, smooth and steady. "We don’t need another scientist on the team turning big and green."
The tension in the air seemed to ease slightly. "You’re finally here, Dr. Banner," Steve responded, fending off another lunging demon with a powerful swing of his shield.
"Cap, I thought I was used to big fights," Bruce replied. "Didn’t think anything could top the Chitauri Invasion, but... this is worse."
Then came the transformation.
In seconds, Bruce was gone, and in his place, the Hulk landed with a ground-shaking roar, throwing himself into the fray.
His arrival gave the Avengers a much-needed advantage—but only for a moment.
Because then, something shifted.
A presence loomed over the battlefield, its aura of dread chilling even the most battle-hardened heroes.
"Since when did Earth develop forces other than the sorcerers?" a deep voice rumbled.
Perched atop the ruins of a collapsing building stood Belasco.
His fiery gaze swept across the battlefield, watching the Avengers fight.
But there was no concern in his expression.
To him, these so-called heroes were nothing more than slightly larger ants.
"Oh my god!" Hawkeye's sharp eyes caught sight of the towering demon lord. "Anyone else seeing that big guy?"
Without hesitation, he nocked an explosive arrow and let it fly.
The arrow shot across the battlefield, aimed directly at Belasco’s head.
But before it could make contact—
It burned away.
The sheer heat radiating from Belasco incinerated the arrow mid-air, reducing it to a puff of ash before it could reach its target.
"Pathetic," Belasco said, his voice carrying across the battlefield. "But at least you have courage."
With deliberate ease, he reached for the enormous ten-meter-long sword strapped to his back and swung it through the air.
A wave of hellfire shot forward, cutting through the battlefield like a tidal wave of destruction.
"Oh, crap!" Clint's instincts screamed at him. In an instant, he fired a rope arrow, launching himself away at the last possible second.
BOOM!
The place he had been standing erupted into a raging inferno, the sheer heat warping the very air around it.
