Chapter 127: Chapter 127: The Red Hood
Brooklyn, New York.
A gaunt man wearing a red cloak and red boots lowered his phone with a grim expression.
His name was Parker Robbins, known as Red Hood, one of the top figures in New York's criminal underworld.
Everyone knew that the king of the underground in New York was Kingpin, who held a position acknowledged by all other criminal factions.
Because of New York's special status in North America, any group that could gain power here could usually expand its influence across the continent.
Kingpin had done just that. His network spread throughout almost all fifty states—nearly forty of them had his men operating within.
But even someone as powerful as a king couldn't rule without resistance.
The same was true in the criminal world.
Kingpin was formidable, no doubt, but there were still other crime lords who could sit across from him as equals.
While none of them could match his power alone, together, they were strong enough to make even Kingpin cautious.
Red Hood was one of those few.
But that was only his public identity. In secret, he held another, far more dangerous role—
He was the Pope of the Church of Darkness.
A cult that worshipped the Dark Lord Dormammu.
In plain terms, an underground church is one whose teachings go against normal society—a cult, as most would say.
In North America, there were thousands of these so-called underground churches, possibly even more.
That's why the region was often called the "Kingdom of Cults"—there were simply too many of them to count.
The Church of Darkness was just one among many, not particularly well-known.
But it stood out for one big reason: it had serious backing.
If you set aside the fake churches run by con artists and only count those that worshipped real supernatural beings, the Church of Darkness would rank in the top three.
As Dormammu's host, Red Hood possessed many strange and powerful abilities. (TL/N: Red hood in comics is the host of Dormammu)
He was a master of dark magic, drawing strength from the Dark Dimension in combat. More terrifyingly, he also had the power of resurrection.
Although resurrection came with strict conditions—and those brought back often suffered strange side effects—it was still a godlike ability.
For any believer, what's more tempting than the promise of "resurrection" or "eternal life"?
Because of this, under Red Hood's leadership, the Church of Darkness had rapidly grown in recent years, surpassing many older cults.
Dormammu valued Red Hood highly, even granting him a rare privilege—he could speak with Dormammu directly, without needing a ritual sacrifice.
Of course, Red Hood didn't dare abuse that privilege.
If he pestered Dormammu too much, it would only annoy the Dark Lord. And Dormammu wasn't known for being patient.
He was, after all, one of the most terrifying beings in existence.
"A so-called evil god named Thanos… Is he also like a demon lord?" Red Hood murmured, deep in thought after ending the call.
As the Pope of the Church of Darkness and Dormammu's host, Red Hood was, ironically, not a devout believer.
Dormammu himself didn't care about worship. His power didn't rely on faith.
What he needed were capable hands to carry out his will.
Dormammu favored Red Hood not because of his loyalty, but because he was effective.
The Church of Darkness was never about true religion—it was a tool to brainwash followers and create more disposable pawns.
Because of that, Red Hood had once secretly investigated Dormammu's background and learned a great deal about the so-called "Dimensional Lord."
According to ancient legends, long ago, the multiverse had two massive, opposing realms—Heaven and Hell.
But one day, for unknown reasons, Hell shattered into countless fragments.
Since then, Hell became known as the Realm of Splinters.
Each of these fragments could claim to be Hell, and the rulers of these broken hellish realms were known as Hell Lords or Dimensional Lords.
Even the weakest of them were at least sub-Skyfather level, while famous Hell Lords like Dormammu, Mephisto, Lucifer, and Hela were all undisputed Skyfather-tier beings.
The Dark Dimension, Dormammu's realm, was one of these fragments.
But unlike the others, it was the largest fragment of all.
Its size alone was equal to the combined territories of multiple other Hell Lords.
And the power of a Hell Lord was always proportional to the size of the realm they ruled.
That's why Dormammu was called the supreme of all Hell Lords.
His strength surpassed them all because the Dark Dimension was simply that vast.
After learning all this, Red Hood only became more determined to stay on Dormammu's side. It was the smartest choice he could make.
But now, something puzzled him—he didn't recall any Hell Lord named Thanos.
"Could it be that Thanos isn't a Hell Lord, but some other type of god?" Red Hood muttered with uncertainty.
If the tip hadn't come from one of his most trusted men, he would've dismissed it as nonsense.
"Should I… ask Lord Dormammu?"
A thought sparked in his mind.
If Thanos truly existed and was going against Dormammu's forces, then Dormammu would surely know.
If Dormammu confirmed Thanos's existence, that would mean the threat was real.
Without hesitation, Red Hood began a dark ritual—using black magic to send a message deep into the Dark Dimension:
"Lord Dormammu, may I ask—does a god named Thanos exist in the multiverse, one who is working against you? I received confidential intel suggesting that this 'Thanos' is hunting your people. I wanted to confirm whether such a god exists."
This kind of ritual-free communication was easier but also weaker—like sending a delayed message rather than speaking directly.
Usually, Dormammu's reply would come within a few hours, or at most, a day or two.
Even though the Dark Dimension was directly connected to the main universe, the void between was vast. Messages could be delayed.
But this time, after only a few minutes, Red Hood received a response.
It was just one sentence:
"Kill! At all costs, kill every last one of that bastard Thanos's people!!"
Red Hood froze, shocked by the sheer fury in Dormammu's voice.
Somehow… in those few words, he could feel something deeper.
Something unhinged.
Was he imagining it?
Or was Dormammu… not just angry, but truly losing control?
Something about this didn't feel like just another enemy skirmish.
It felt personal.