Vector Control in Marvel

Boom! Boom! Boom! 

The night sky over Kamar-Taj burned bright as explosions tore through the ancient city. 

Fires raged across the rooftops, casting flickering shadows against the stone walls. 

Amidst the chaos, Ethan descended gracefully, his boots landing lightly atop the crumbling city wall. 

With a flick of his wrist, he dispersed the last remnants of an enemy attack, manipulating the very forces around him with the ease of a maestro conducting an orchestra.

His gaze swept over the city. 

Aside from the sanctum perched atop the mountain—the residence of the Sorcerer Supreme—most of Kamar-Taj had been reduced to a sea of flames. 

Not a single building had been left untouched. Ethan let out a sigh and shook his head. 

As much as he disliked giving credit, he had to admit it: when it came to destruction, Agent 0233 had a natural talent. S.H.I.E.L.D. was right to keep an eye on that one.

And yet, for all the devastation wrought upon the city, the true victims were the monstrous creatures that had dared to invade. 

The lucky ones perished in the first blasts, their bodies reduced to ash in an instant. 

The rest? They suffered. 

Napalm clung to their flesh, burning relentlessly, while white phosphorus chewed through their bones like a starving beast.

 Some fell gasping, their lungs crushed under the immense pressure of the incendiary bombs. 

The once-mighty hordes that had forced Kamar-Taj's sorcerers into desperate combat were now little more than smoldering remains.

"So, this is your idea of help?" a familiar voice cut through the night air. "Seems a little... extreme, don't you think?"

Agent Phil Coulson approached, his usual composed demeanor tinged with unease. 

He had seen destruction before, but this was something else entirely.

Ethan turned toward him, his expression unreadable. 

"This city—this place—was supposed to be a beacon of knowledge. A stronghold where magic would propel humanity into a new age.

 Instead, they withdrew. They hid behind their spells and traditions, stagnating for centuries. Kamar-Taj wasn't just a city—it was a cage."

Coulson arched an eyebrow. "And I suppose you think burning it to the ground is the best way to break them out of it?"

A smirk tugged at Ethan's lips. 

"Oh, come now. We didn't destroy this city. That honor belongs to the monsters corrupted by dark forces—and let's not forget Baron Mordo. We were just the cleanup crew." His voice carried a trace of amusement as he gestured to the crumbling ruins around them. 

"Besides, in the end, every magician and their descendants were saved, weren't they?"

Coulson exhaled, unconvinced but unwilling to argue. 

"And I suppose you're planning to help them rebuild? Let me guess—innovation, cooperation, all that good stuff?"

Ethan's grin widened. 

"Exactly. Kamar-Taj won't recover on its own. Their self-sufficient ways are over. If they want to rebuild, they'll need resources, connections—and whether they like it or not, that means engaging with the modern world. And let's be real, Coulson

—magic may fascinate some people, but you can't tell me that magicians won't be tempted by what technology has to offer. Especially those born into magical families who never quite mastered the craft. The merging of magic and technology is inevitable."

Coulson studied him for a moment before asking, "So, you and Doctor Strange have a blueprint for this so-called 'new Kamar-Taj'?"

Ethan paused as if considering his words carefully, then answered with absolute seriousness,

 "After much discussion, Doctor Strange and I have agreed on the first and most crucial upgrade: the new Kamar-Taj will have citywide Wi-Fi coverage. Gigabit speeds. No more signal issues."

Coulson blinked. "...What?"

For a moment, he could almost believe that Ethan had gone through all this trouble—not for magic, not for innovation—but simply because he'd been frustrated with the terrible Wi-Fi signal in Kamar-Taj over the past few days.

 And worse—Doctor Strange had apparently agreed with him.

Coulson groaned, rubbing his temples.

 "You're not rebuilding a city. You're running a renovation project because you couldn't stream your shows, aren't you?"

Ethan simply smiled, his expression all too knowing.

"Let's just say... it's all about progress, Coulson."

Shaking his head, Coulson forced himself to push aside the absurd thought lingering in his mind and refocused. 

"Letting magic blend into the modern world is going to cause some serious upheaval."

"There's no avoiding that," Ethan replied, crossing his arms. 

"Both sides will struggle, but consider it a preview of what's to come. You already have a hunch, don't you? As humanity starts reaching for the stars, secrets like this won't stay buried for long."

Despite the destruction, Ethan took some solace in the fact that the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj—having now witnessed firsthand the power of modern weaponry—would finally understand their place in the grander scheme. 

The arrogance that once defined them would be tempered, at least for now.

After all, seeing a bomber level an entire invasion force in minutes—reducing both the monstrous attackers and Kamar-Taj itself to rubble—left a far greater impression than any mere tale of nuclear devastation.

The old saying held true: stagnation leads to downfall, and the fallen will be crushed. 

Only by awakening from their self-imposed isolation could the sorcerers learn to adapt, to keep up with the ever-advancing world.

With the bombers having wiped out the last of the monsters inside the city, the battle outside was nearing its conclusion as well. 

Doctor Strange swung his battle axe in a fluid motion, cleaving the final beast—Mindless One—clean in half.

"Mordo, I know you're here," Strange called out, his voice echoing through the ruined streets. 

"It's over. How much longer do you plan to keep hiding?"

A cold chuckle rang out as a thick black mist coiled in the air. 

From its depths emerged Baron Mordo, clad in his dark robes, his expression unreadable.

"Stephen," he said coolly, "is this really why you wanted to see me?"

Doctor Strange's grip on his axe tightened. "Mordo, surrender."

For a fleeting moment, memories surfaced—of a time when Mordo had been the one to bring him to Kamar-Taj, to guide him when he was lost. 

If not for Mordo's help, Stephen might have remained nothing more than a broken man, a beggar in the streets.

"If you lay down your arms now and swear never to use magic again, I will let the past go," Strange said, his voice filled with reluctant hope.

Mordo scoffed. 

"You know as well as I do that's impossible." His cloak billowed as he stepped forward. 

"Perhaps there will come a day when I abandon magic—but that day will only come when the last sorcerer on Earth has fallen."

Strange exhaled sharply, his expression hardening. "Then you leave me no choice. I'll stop you myself."

Mordo sneered.

 "Do you really think the power of the mortal world will be enough to defeat me?" He gestured around them. 

"Stephen, I understand Kamar-Taj's secrets better than you ever will. I know how to break it down to its very foundations. 

Why do you think I summoned these winged abominations? Why did I collect so many sorcerers' magic?"

From within his robes, Mordo produced a black horn, its surface etched with sinister markings. 

As he channeled his magic into it, a dark red glow pulsed from its core. Immediately, tendrils of energy surged from the remains of the Mindless One and the ashes of the fallen creatures, coalescing into the horn.

Doctor Strange's eyes widened. "Not happening."

Without hesitation, he lunged, bringing his axe down toward the horn in Mordo's grip. 

But the instant the blade struck, a blood-red barrier erupted from the artifact, sending hellfire spewing outward in a violent wave. 

The force of the blast drove Strange backward, forcing him to shield himself from the scorching flames.

As he steadied himself, he glared at Mordo with a mixture of fury and disbelief. 

"You sold your soul to Hell?" he spat. "You're beyond redemption."

Mordo merely smiled, the flickering flames reflecting in his cold, unrepentant eyes.

Doctor Strange stood firm, his gaze locked onto Mordo. The tension between them crackled like a live wire.

"No, Stephen," Mordo said coolly. "What I've shown you is the true nature of a sorcerer."

Strange's jaw tightened. "And what twisted philosophy are you preaching now?"

"Think about it. Where did the first sorcerers come from? They craved power, bending the knee to ancient mutants to gain access to supernatural abilities. That hunger never faded. 

Even when the mutants declined, sorcerers sought out new sources—Asgardian gods, the demons of Hell—anything to claim power that was never meant for ordinary people."

Mordo took a step forward, his voice laced with conviction. 

"Sorcerers are nothing more than desperate mortals addicted to magic, tampering with forces they don't fully understand. This defies the natural order, Stephen. They are heretics."

Strange's expression darkened. 

"Power isn't the goal. Knowledge is. Magic should be a tool to explore the unknown, to unravel the universe's secrets—not a means to chase raw strength."

Mordo chuckled, shaking his head. 

"You still believe that comforting lie? Sorcerers always fall to the temptation of greater power. The Ancient One did.

 Kaecilius did. And you will too. One day, you'll be forced to seek out forbidden magic, to make deals with the very beings you call evil. It's inevitable."

"So, all this just to justify your own fall?" A new voice cut in.

Ethan strode forward, arms crossed, an expression of pure contempt on his face.

Mordo smirked. 

"Yes, I have fallen. But if selling my soul to Mephisto means I can wipe sorcerers from existence and steer humanity back onto its rightful path, then I have no regrets."

With a flick of his wrist, Mordo produced an ancient scroll. 

The moment he unfurled it, an eerie energy surged from within, flooding the air with ghostly wails. 

Wisps of lost souls spiraled out, screaming in agony. 

At the same time, the demonic horn clutched in Mordo's other hand flared with a sinister red light, pulling the tormented spirits toward its hungry core.

Strange's eyes widened. 

"Mordo! Stop this madness! If Mephisto manifests, he won't just stop at sorcerers. He'll claim the entire Earth!"

"Enough talk," Ethan muttered. 

He cracked his knuckles, eyes gleaming with irritation. 

"This guy's already sold himself to the devil. Reasoning with him is a waste of breath."

Without hesitation, Ethan lunged forward.

 He wasn't one for grand speeches—punching some sense into people was always faster.

"Break it!" he shouted, his fist slamming into the glowing red barrier protecting Mordo.

In an instant, Ethan's mutant ability surged, the invisible forces around him shifting like an unseen storm. 

He instinctively adjusted the vectors in the air, reversing the shield's force field. 

The barrier twisted and warped, its structure unraveling as though an unseen hand had plucked it apart at the seams.

The air vibrated violently, a high-pitched crack slicing through the battlefield as the shield exploded into fragments of crimson energy. 

Without hesitation, Ethan redirected the kinetic force from the blast, channeling it into his own movement. 

His fist struck with amplified velocity, turning his punch into a devastating blow that sent Mordo flying backward like a ragdoll.

Mordo crashed to the ground, tumbling across the dirt, a spray of blood escaping his lips. 

His limbs twitched, too broken to continue the fight.

Yet the damage was already done. The horn in Mordo's grasp pulsed violently, sending torrents of hellfire skyward. 

The night burned crimson as the infernal flames spiraled higher, twisting and shaping into the hulking silhouette of a massive demon.

Mordo let out a ragged laugh, blood dripping from his lips. 

"Too late. Once it's activated…" He wheezed, smirking. 

"There's no stopping it. When Mephisto arrives, Kamar-Taj will be nothing but ash."

Ethan's expression grew grim. 

Damn it. 

Mephisto always had his claws in more than one scheme—this wasn't just about the San Venganza contract. 

But was this his true form or just another avatar? Either way, this was going to be a headache.

As he considered his next move, the demonic flames solidified further, sculpting a monstrous figure. 

Mordo's laughter grew louder, his triumph echoing through the ruined battlefield.

Ethan clenched his fists, prepared to make his next move—until something changed.

The flames trembled. 

Then, inexplicably, they collapsed, shattering into fragments of fire. 

The embers twisted and rearranged themselves, forming lines of strange, ancient symbols.