Marvel: Sign-In System – Starting with the Glint-Glint Fruit

"Tch. Is he trying to play Infernal Affairs?"

Matthew thought it over and understood the meaning behind Ancient One's words.

Mephisto was even smarter and calmer than he had imagined.

The grudge between him and Mephisto was essentially not a big deal at all. The greatest hatred was simply that Matthew had made Mephisto lose face.

But did a demon's face count as face?

He had destroyed Mephisto's energy projection, causing Mephisto to lose a wisp of his soul and become a joke among the other demon lords of the Hell dimensions. His ruling position in his own territory might have slipped slightly.

But no matter how the other dimensional lords laughed at Mephisto, what meaning did it have?

There was no real loss at all.

Even that wisp of soul was not much of a loss to Mephisto himself. With a little rest, he would recover.

As for his ruling position being shaken, that was even less worth mentioning.

His only good son, Blackheart, had been captured by Matthew and taken to the island base, where he had become a living target for the super soldiers of the two battle groups.

Would anyone else challenge Mephisto just because he had lost face?

Did they have a death wish?

Mephisto was not dead, and his strength had not declined. What was there to challenge? If someone truly lost their mind and went to challenge Mephisto, they would only become the chicken Mephisto killed to warn the monkeys.

So the grudge between the two of them depended entirely on how Mephisto saw it.

After all, Matthew was the one who had gained the advantage, so naturally he favored Old Mephisto more than anyone else.

It was also clear that Ancient One's reminder this time made Matthew fully realize that Mephisto, the Lord of Demons, truly lived up to his reputation.

In many matters, his judgment was already mature—he always prioritized benefits above all else.

If Mephisto truly intended to help Dormammu kill Matthew, what would he gain from it? Nothing at all.

After all, Mephisto did not possess a god's-eye view. He had no way of knowing the exact relationship between Ancient One and Matthew.

From Mephisto and Dormammu's perspective, Matthew was merely the next Sorcerer Supreme chosen by Ancient One.

If Matthew were killed, the consequences for Mephisto might not necessarily be favorable.

Mephisto knew very well that many schemes carried out in the dark might seem unknown to others, but Ancient One would not reason with him based on evidence.

Suspicion alone would be enough.

A "mad" Ancient One, nearing the end of her life, might not even hesitate to exchange her life for his. That outcome was uncertain—even if Mephisto was in his own domain of Hell.

But if Ancient One was determined to fight him to the death, Mephisto would be crippled even if he did not die.

A severely wounded demon lord would not receive any sympathy. It would only attract the greedy gazes of other demon lords.

And after that?

Even if he could endure it, would Mephisto be able to occupy Earth as he wished?

Absolutely impossible.

Because there was still a far more powerful Dark Lord here, Dormammu, whose level and dimension were higher. Why would he give it to Mephisto?

Even if Odin, the All-Father of Asgard, took action, he could not kill Dormammu.

To kill Dormammu, one would have to destroy the Dark Dimension.

Otherwise, he was undying and indestructible, because the Dark Dimension was Dormammu.

After being heavily injured, Dormammu could simply return to the Dark Dimension to recover. Then, afterward, there would be no one on Earth who could stop him.

Dormammu had enough patience to recover. So what if someone else occupied Earth for a while?

Once he recovered, Dormammu could still sweep away other dimensional beings. Earth would still be Dormammu's.

Mephisto would gain no advantage at all.

These chain reactions could be predicted with just a little thought. Mephisto would never do something that brought him no benefit.

Ancient One had come here to remind him both as a warning and in the hope that Matthew would understand this matter, so he would not point the spearhead at Mephisto.

The waters of Hell ran deep.

For the time being, Matthew, who had not yet entered his mature stage, had better not create unnecessary complications. He could wait until he evolved into his ultimate form.

This was the art of balance.

Ancient One was maintaining balance, and Mephisto was doing the same. Neither side wanted that balance to be broken.

Mephisto would rather maintain the current situation than let someone else take advantage.

Compared with Ancient One and compared with Matthew, native guardians of Earth, Mephisto absolutely did not want Dormammu to take over Earth.

With Dormammu's brutal style, once he took control of Earth, his dark power would rapidly strengthen and devour the entire universe.

His strength would soar completely, turning him into a nightmare of the multiverse.

Mephisto's Hell certainly would not escape the fate of being devoured either.

Earth was a defensive line against Dormammu, and Mephisto would never be stupid enough to dismantle that line himself.

No wonder Ancient One had tacitly allowed Mephisto to secretly come to Earth and cause trouble.

So there was actually another deeper core reason behind it.

Matthew completely understood this point.

As a result, the worry in his heart faded.

Instead, he thought of Kaecilius.

If I kill Kaecilius, will you be angry, Dormammu?

Matthew had never liked being passive.

Although he was not afraid, constantly being watched by a rat hiding in the sewers was still disgusting.

In that case, he might as well take the initiative. And disgust Dormammu along the way. The way Dormammu got angry would surely be rather cute.

So Matthew left the Mirror Dimension. However, he was not in a hurry to return immediately. Instead, he leisurely began adapting to the ability he had newly developed.

He was currently in the golden period of growth, and Matthew would not waste even a little time.

......

New York, Manhattan, wealthy district villa.

Inside the modern and luxurious living room, Pierce wore a thin sweater.

It was already September, and the temperature had begun to drop. As an old man, he had to consider keeping warm.

Today's weather in New York was somewhat cold and damp.

There had been a heavy rain last night, and it had only stopped this morning.

Pierce was the Secretary-General of the World Security Council. His work could be said to be busy, yet also not busy.

When there was nothing to do, it was very leisurely, such as today.

Of course, aside from that position, he was also the United States Secretary of Defense, a position of absolute real power.

Yet this astonishingly powerful figure was currently thinking about a problem.

Holding a square, thick-bottomed glass, with one hand tucked into the pocket of his suit trousers, he took a sip of whiskey and stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, admiring the post-rain scenery outside while pondering.

One of those problems was naturally Nick Fury.

This man, whom he had personally promoted but later discovered he could not control.

Nick Fury's rise to power had been a helpless choice made after considering many sides. Back then, many things had forced him to do it.

He appreciated Nick Fury's talent, yet also feared him. With no other choice, he could only go along with the situation.

Otherwise, many unnecessary troubles might have emerged that year.

But now, Nick Fury had still brought him this trouble.

As Pierce was thinking, someone walked in.

He wore an ordinary leather jacket and T-shirt. His build was tall and sturdy, and his aura was cold and stern like that of a soldier.

"Sir."

"Rumlow." Pierce called out the man's name without turning his head.

...

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