The Multiverse Hunter

Finally....you guys enjoy the chapters cuz I'm going to sleep, this is tiring

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At first, Ali couldn't see anything except an endless sea of shifting purple mist, the thick haze clouding his vision like a dense fog. Then, faint sounds echoed through the darkness—tiny, rapid footsteps tapping against the rooftop.

His sharp senses picked up movement, shapes forming within the obscured space ahead. As the mist thinned slightly, he saw them—outlines of grotesque creatures, their bodies hunched, their limbs scrawny yet eerily agile.

'Hallucinations?' he wondered, his mind racing as the creatures shifted and distorted. At first, they appeared small—around waist height—but then they began to swell in his vision. Their wiry frames stretched unnaturally, growing larger and larger until each stood twice his height. Their elongated claws glinted menacingly under the moonlight, now resembling jagged blades rather than simple nails.

Ali's body tensed, instincts warning him of an imminent attack. The goblins didn't hesitate. One of them lunged, its razor-like claws aiming straight for his throat.

'Bahamut, give me the eyes,' Ali commanded internally.

At that moment, the massive gate to the Hall of Dragons creaked open within his spirit realm.

Immediately, half of his Spirit pond was drained, consumed by the ancient dragon's power.

The moment his connection to Bahamut was established, Ali's eyes burned with an unnatural heat. The swirling purple mist that had once blinded him suddenly became crystal clear, as if the veil over reality had been ripped away. His irises darkened, slit pupils emerging like those of a predatory beast.

The eerie glow of dragon-infused sight illuminated the night, casting an ominous purple sheen across his gaze.

As Ali locked eyes with the nearest goblin, its aggressive charge faltered. Its grotesque face contorted with something unexpected—fear. A low, guttural growl built in its throat, but its body refused to move forward. Its shadow, once flickering wildly in the dim rooftop light, now trembled violently, reflecting the overwhelming dread it felt.

'Fear manifestation… so the eyes do more than just see through darkness,' Ali realised, stepping forward.

The goblin remained frozen in place, its limbs stiff, its panicked breathing shallow.

Step.

Ali took another step.

Step.

Still, the creature did not move, paralysed under his gaze.

Ali crouched slightly, his lips curling into an amused smirk. 'It's completely frozen…'

Without breaking eye contact, Ali dismissed his lightsaber, sending it back into his inventory.

Instead, he reached forward, seizing both of the goblin's wiry arms with an iron grip.

Then, he closed the gate to the Hall of Dragons.

The effect was immediate.

GROWL!

The instant Bahamut's influence was severed, the goblin snapped back to life, shrieking in desperation. It thrashed violently, twisting and biting at the air, its savage instincts returning in full force.

But it was too late.

Ali's grip tightened like a vice. Muscles flexed. Tendons strained. Then—

RIP!

SPLASH!

A wet, sickening tear echoed across the rooftop as Ali tore both of the goblin's arms clean from their sockets. Dark purple blood sprayed through the air, splattering across the concrete.

The goblin howled in agony, but even with both arms torn away, it didn't hesitate. Its grotesque body twisted, and it sprinted in the opposite direction, seeking any escape route it could find.

Ali's reaction was instantaneous.

With a flick of his wrists, he reversed his grip on the severed arms, flipping them so that the jagged claws now pointed forward.

Then, with a single, powerful throw—

STAB!

STAB!

The first severed arm impaled straight through the goblin's stomach, pinning it against the rooftop. The second drove down from above, piercing through the top of its skull and nailing its twitching corpse to the ground.

A fitting end—killed by its own claws.

Ali exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he examined the body. 'Who sent you?'

The moment the thought crossed his mind, something supernatural happened.

The remains of the slain goblins began to dissolve, their bodies breaking down into thick, swirling plumes of purple smoke. Ali's eyes narrowed as he watched the eerie mist gather, condensing into a single, concentrated sphere of dark energy.

Then, without warning, the sphere shot forward, streaking through the night sky, retreating toward an unknown destination.

'A weapon that returns to its master after failing a mission?' Ali mused, eyes following the trajectory.

'One of the worst tools for an assassin… whoever sent this isn't very smart or they didn't know about it.'

Without hesitation, Ali leapt from the rooftop, his body cutting through the wind as he pursued the escaping sphere, his thoughts already racing ahead.

RING. RING. RING.

Deep inside Natasha's bag, her phone vibrated continuously, the caller ID flashing over and over. The screen glowed faintly in the dimly lit room, an ominous signal that someone on the other end was desperately trying to reach her.

Aboard the Helicarrier, far above the city, Nick Fury sat in his office, his one good eye locked onto the phone's screen as he waited for a response that would never come. His fingers drummed impatiently against the desk, his expression dark and unreadable.

The room around him was bustling with activity. Military personnel monitored satellite feeds, intelligence officers analysed camera footage, and a sense of urgency filled the air.

A young officer rushed toward Fury, saluting sharply before speaking.

"Sir, we've managed to extract the last two hours of audio from Agent Romanoff's phone."

Fury's posture stiffened.

"Play it."

The officer hesitated. There was something in his expression—something grim, as if he had already listened to the recording and didn't want to be the one to press play.

Before he could react, another soldier barged into the office, breathing heavily from what was clearly a rushed sprint through the warship's corridors.

"Sir—" he swallowed, trying to steady his voice. "We found them."

Fury's grip on the desk tightened.

"Both Captain America and Agent Romanoff… they're dead."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

No one spoke. No one moved.

For the first time in a long time, Nick Fury—spymaster, director of S.H.I.E.L.D., and the man always three steps ahead—felt the weight of a loss he had never expected.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, letting the information settle. Then, his next words came cold and sharp.

"Lock down Queens. Evacuate all civilians."

The officers in the room barely hesitated before rushing to execute the order. Fury grabbed the USB containing Natasha's final moments and turned toward the command centre where the Avengers normally assembled.

The world would soon know what had happened tonight.

And there would be consequences.

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