Game in Marvel

…Liam raised his head slowly.

The air around him cracked.

Not with thunder—but with power.

His eyes glowed now—not just with color, but with raw, unfiltered magic. A blazing molten hue, like starlight bleeding into wildfire. His wooden hand clenched and pulsed, and the staff in his other hand lifted off the ground without him even touching it.

"You…" Caranthir started, pausing mid-reach.

Liam stepped forward.

The ground beneath his feet shattered.

Magic—chaos—poured off him in waves. It didn't ripple—it surged, like a tide long held back by dammed emotion. His usual calm, always so steady, so in control, was gone. But not recklessly. No, this wasn't insanity. This wasn't madness.

Elie had been a part of his life for sometime now. He had loved that small creature with his heart and soul, and even was loved by everyone around. The rabbit was magical too as it could heal wounds and thus it received extra care from everyone. 

He didn't know what kind of magic it was to give rise to a magical creature, maybe it was something Cathbad had made for Liam but he loved Elie nonetheless. When Fenrir was hurt last time he had promised himself not to allow his friend to be hurt again. 

If he ever had the power. This time he didn't have the power and thus made sure Elie wasn't around. Even if Caranthir impaled Liam, he would have been fine as he could teleport to his world and make himself perfectly fine since he had the blood of the gods flowing inside him. But Elie knew none of that. 

It just wanted to save Liam. And now that Elie was dead, something inside Liam broke. 

This was freedom.

All his life, Liam restrained his emotions. But Elie's sacrifice shattered something deep inside him. Grief opened the floodgates.

Power answered.

He raised his palm toward Caranthir, who instinctively took a step back. And Liam wasn't the only one. 

Ciri knelt beside Vesemir, her hand pressed against the wound in his thigh, blood soaking through her fingers. Her breath trembled, her eyes locked on Elie's last flicker of light as the small creature faded. She didn't even hear the sound her sword made as it scraped across the stones, drawn toward her by magic alone.

She had loved Elie too.

The rabbit had always waited by the keep's stairs. Had nudged her knee after rough training. Had curled beside her on cold nights when sleep felt impossible and dreams too dark to face. In this war-stained world, Elie had been something untouched—something soft. Kind.

Gone.

Ciri's scream was silent.

Because sound couldn't carry what she felt.

Not anymore.

Her eyes began to glow—not the flicker of her elder blood reacting in reflex, but the burning of something tearing loose. The ground beneath her shimmered. The air around her shimmered. Her body—her very presence—fractured slightly, like a glass pane under pressure.

And then the nightmare happened. A scream suddenly rang out from her body itself and wraith versions of her appeared behind him. And that wasn't the only thing happening. Her body sucked everything around like a black hole. And Liam, who noticed this knew what was going to happen. 

He vanished from his place and appeared near Caranthir. The Aen Elle, who was already shaken, didn't even register what happened as Liam punched him right in the face and opened a portal which threw him inside the portal. The punch was laden with chaos magic and it disoriented his mind, making him unable to think anything. 

Liam, then ran to Ciri as fast as possible because the more time went, the more she would be unstable and she herself might be sucked into the void if she continued. He didn't waste any second as he held Ciri and vanished with her. 

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They appeared in the courtyard of Kamar-Taj. Liam landed first, clutching Ciri tightly in his arms.

The ancient stones of the monastery's floor groaned under the force of their arrival. A gust of wind spiraled outward, carrying with it a strange, suffocating pressure—born of Ciri's uncontrolled power and Liam's barely-contained grief.

Ciri's body was glowing now—no, not glowing, burning with elder energy. Her veins pulsed with light beneath her skin. The fabric of space twisted faintly around her. It wasn't just magic—this was raw entropy, a tear in the weave of reality.

She screamed again—but the sound was distorted, warped as if echoing through a hundred worlds at once. Her hands clawed at her own chest like she was trying to hold herself together.

And the sky above them flickered.

That's when she arrived.

Without hesitation, the Ancient One raised both hands and traced a precise, sharp sigil into the air. The rings spun—one, two, three, then dozens—each reflecting a different dimension, different plane. The Mirror Dimension shimmered into being.

"Liam," she said, "release her."

Another wave of energy blasted out from Ciri, warping the courtyard tiles, cracking walls in the distance. Her eyes flicked open—no pupils, just blinding light—and a scream echoed again, shattering a lantern hanging nearby.

The Ancient One's palm glowed, and without waiting for further argument, she stepped forward and touched Ciri's forehead.

A sudden stillness fell over the area, as if all the sound had been sucked out.

Then—

FWUUUM.

The Mirror Dimension swallowed them whole.

Everything twisted. The stone courtyard folded like paper. Skies turned into floating shards. Liam blinked—and found he was standing in a void of fractured geometry. He recognized this place.

"Can you help her?" Liam asked.

"Yes," the Ancient One replied. "But she has to choose to return. This is a soul untethered—grasping for meaning in the storm. I can only guide her back." Liam didn't stop and came out of the Mirror Dimension. 

He didn't need a sling ring for that. His own staff was enough and now he had full control over his chaos magic. After he came to the courtyard he saw many apprentices were looking at him and also some held Caranthir down using magical ropes. 

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