Game in Marvel

Multiple rifts appeared inside the castle and also just outside. The cold seemed to seep into their bones. Portals formed along the walls—eight, ten, twelve at once. Hounds poured from them, then warriors. Heavier, larger than before. 

And then—

Three figures stepped through a central portal directly into the courtyard. As expected, Imlerith and Caranthir had returned. And between them, tall and composed as death itself—Eredin Bréacc Glas. The King of the Wild Hunt. His armor shimmered with arcane frost, crown of blades upon his head, and his great sword.

Kaer Morhen went silent.

Only the sound of falling snow.

Liam stood slowly.

"You came yourself," he said.

"Child, you seem to know me." Eredin looked up and his hollow black eyes looked at Liam who was standing on a small tower looking over the small courtyard. He had heard of this human from Caranthir and just like he said, he was surprised when he looked at Liam. 

Caranthir was right. He is like Ciri and in no way he was going to let another powerful human of the bloodline of Aen Elle leave. 

"But you don't, so why don't you just fuck off from here?" Liam replied. 

"You all have proven... inconvenient. Time to correct that." Eredin replied under rasp breath of the metal mask.

"Yeah? Well, your friends got tossed last round. You really want to go another?" 

"Last time was a distraction." Eredin tilted his head. 

He raised one hand.

Suddenly, more portals opened behind them—dozens, thanks to Caranthir's calls. Hundreds of foot soldiers, hounds, and mages spilled out, surrounding the castle on all sides.

"This time is conquest."

"Form up!" Geralt commanded. 

The defenders of Kaer Morhen moved.

Steve took point with Vesemir and Eskel, shield raised.

Triss, Keira, Yennefer, and Avallac'h took opposite towers to form magic barriers and suppressive fire.

Natasha vanished into the shadows, already flanking.

Tony turned to Liam.

"Got a plan?" Tony asked. 

"Hit them hard. Hit them fast. And we don't let them split us."

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Caranthir launched the first strike. A massive wave of freezing energy swept across the courtyard. Yennefer and Liam met it together—Liam plunged his staff down and muttered a spell in Quenya while Yennefer thrust both hands forward. A dome of violet and gold met the blast—and held.

Tony shot through the sky, unleashing beams on the descending hounds. He twisted midair, his new gauntlets rotating, combining plasma and elemental runes given to him by Triss. His blasts now froze targets before exploding them—delayed bursts that shattered enemies in a blink.

Liam wasn't far behind.

He leapt across collapsing stone with flickers of teleportation, his staff spinning. When he reached a battalion of warriors, he stabbed his staff into the ground—and unleashed a chain reaction of volcanic flame that swallowed them in an arc.

"Ignis Volantis."

Liam pointed his staff and uttered. A net came down from the sky burst into sentient fire serpents that devoured the entire frontline, crawling across armor, into visors, through rifts.

Geralt and Steve fought side by side—Geralt ducking and weaving through slashes, Yrden traps appearing with each flick of his fingers. Steve blocked a blow from Imlerith, the sound of metal-on-metal shaking windows, and countered with a throw that sent the brute staggering.

"Big guy's all muscle!" Steve called.

"He's all stupidity too!" Natasha shouted, planting an explosive on Imlerith's back.

BOOM!

Imlerith screamed and spun—Geralt was already behind him, plunging silver deep into the exposed gap.

But it wasn't enough. The monster bellowed and knocked both Geralt and Steve flying with a sweeping blow.

Liam spun toward them, hand raised—

"Tony!"

Tony understood instantly. He redirected his arc reactor's charge through his palms and into Liam's staff.

The result?

A beam of radiant energy, amplified by magic and tech, cut across the battlefield like a god's whip—obliterating a squad of approaching elites, and slamming Imlerith into the keep wall.

"Stay down this time, tubby!" Tony yelled.

As the battle raged in the courtyard, snow and ash mixing in the storm of magic and steel, Caranthir quietly vanished from the center of the chaos. He slipped through a rift high above, reappearing atop the inner wall of the keep.

There. Ciri. Alone for a moment, rallying Lambert near the inner sanctum. Lambert was hurt and needed medical attention. Thanks to modern medicine, she and all others had learnt how to first aid at least. 

He moved like a shadow. Vesemir saw him first.

The old witcher was bloodied, his shoulder scorched from a fireball earlier. He stepped between Caranthir and Ciri, sword raised.

"You're not taking her," Vesemir said.

"You're old. And tired. You should not die today." Caranthir spoke. 

"Then don't make me kill you." This was the reply of Vesemir. 

Vesemir met the blow, sparks flying as steel clashed with arcane-forged blade. The force of the impact drove the old witcher back—but he held. A spin, a parry, a counter-thrust. 

But Caranthir wasn't just a mage. He was a killer.

A blast of rift energy threw Vesemir to the ground, wind knocked from his lungs. Caranthir moved to finish him. Ciri screamed. She rushed in, teleporting in a blink, her blade intercepting Caranthir's as he struck down.

"She is mine!" Caranthir snarled. 

"No," Ciri growled. "I am no one's!"

She twisted, trying to unbalance him, and Vesemir used the moment to lunge upward with his dagger—plunging it into Caranthir's ribs. The elf howled and backhanded the old witcher with magic, sending him sprawling once again.

And this time, the sword came down.Straight into Vesemir's shoulder.

"No!" Ciri shouted, parrying the follow-up blow and shoving Caranthir back with a burst of Elder Blood energy.

Vesemir collapsed, bleeding, teeth gritted in pain.

And far across the battlefield—

Liam felt it.

The ripple in the weave. The call of Ciri's power. The sudden flare of anguish and fury. His eyes snapped to the tower. He vanished mid-leap. Reappeared beside Ciri in a blaze of light and snow.

Caranthir turned just in time to see the tip of Liam's staff slam into his chest and explode with a wave of force magic that hurled him off his feet, crashing into a wall.

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