The Witcher: Ascending Beyond Marvel

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The sun rose slowly, its soft light draping over the vast earth like a delicate veil of tulle.

The warm golden rays bathed the land, stripping the evil spirits of their power. The grotesque, trembling skulls of the Ghost Riders shifted, morphing back into their normal humanoid forms.

Carter adjusted the wide brim of his worn-out denim hat, his fingers brushing the rough leather with a sense of familiarity. Then, with quiet affection, he ran his hand down the neck of his beloved steed, a rare moment of peace settling over him.

Johnny, still atop his motorcycle, sat motionless. His vacant eyes darted around, unfocused, as if searching for something lost in the haze of battle. Then, without warning, his body swayed, and he collapsed, slumping over his bike.

"What's wrong with him?" Wes asked, puzzled.

Carter simply shrugged. "Don't worry about it. Rookies are always like this."

With a practiced ease, he pulled a cigar from his coat, flicked open a lighter, and took a deep drag before exhaling a steady stream of smoke. His voice was calm as he asked, "So, who exactly is the Supreme Sorcerer? And what about the demo—?"

Before he could finish, the distant roar of engines shattered the morning calm.

Five black SUVs tore across the dusty landscape, kicking up clouds of dirt as they sped toward them.

Wes turned, his expression darkening.

The vehicles screeched to a halt, and within seconds, doors burst open. A group of heavily armed men, clad in tactical gear and equipped with state-of-the-art weaponry, poured out and swiftly surrounded the trio.

Their muzzles, however, remained lowered—for now.

A man with thinning hair and a composed demeanor stepped forward, walking directly toward Wes. He extended a business card with a respectful nod.

"Mr. Irwin, we are—"

Wes cut him off without hesitation. "I remember you. You were at the auction."

A small smile tugged at the corners of the man's lips. "I'm glad you remember, Mr. Irwin. We mean no harm. We simply wish to ask you a few questions."

Wes's sharp gaze swept over the armed agents surrounding them. His lips curled into a smirk. "No harm? Do you really expect me to believe that?"

Coulson, unfazed, spread his hands in a placating gesture. "After all, I'm just an ordinary man. When dealing with someone as… gifted as yourself, a little security is necessary for peace of mind."

"Really?" Wes's smile turned cold, sending an uneasy shiver through the agents.

Then, before anyone could react, chaos erupted.

Half of the armed men suddenly turned on their own. Guns snapped up, safeties flicked off, and in a heartbeat, they aimed at their own teammates.

Tension thickened the air like an impending storm. The unaffected agents froze in place, too stunned to act.

"Oh—oh! Easy! Everyone, stay calm!" Coulson stammered, raising his hands in surrender, his composure cracking.

He forced a nervous chuckle, his face tightening as he tried to defuse the situation. "Mr. Irwin, please, let's not be hasty. There must be some misunderstanding between us."

"Misunderstanding?" Wes's fingers twitched slightly, his voice laced with mock amusement. "I don't think so."

He stepped closer, his presence suffocating.

"The first time you showed up at the auction was a year ago. Meaning, at the very least, you've had eyes on me since then."

Coulson swallowed hard.

"You've been tracking me all the way from New York, haven't you?" Wes continued, his tone eerily calm. "Last night's battle—while we were fighting for our lives—you were hiding, watching from the shadows."

His piercing gaze locked onto Coulson.

"What, you thought I'd be too weak after the fight? That you could swoop in, pick up the pieces, and extract whatever secrets you wanted?"

A bead of sweat rolled down Coulsons temple.

He forced himself to maintain his smile, but his back was drenched, his shirt clinging to his skin.

Every word Wes had spoken was spot on.

According to Director Nick Fury's orders, they had planned to move in only after Wes had exhausted himself in battle. Capture him, restrain him, and uncover the mysteries of his magic.

But they had underestimated him.

"It seems I was right."

A dark gleam flickered in Wes's eyes, and the air around him grew heavier.

Just as he was about to make his move, the sharp trill of a phone cut through the silence.

Coulson hurriedly raised a hand, pointing to his pocket. "It's our director. I suggest you take the call."

Wes wasted no time. He plucked the phone from Coulson's grasp and answered.

"Hello, Mr. Magician."

The smooth, authoritative voice of Nick Fury came through the line. "It seems my men have had a bit of a misunderstanding with you. I apologize for the… tension."

Wes remained expressionless. "Hmm… hmm."

His fingers deftly moved, plucking a button from Coulson's jacket. Holding it up to the light, he turned it slightly, revealing a minuscule embedded camera.

A chuckle escaped him. "Seems like I'm getting a taste of modern surveillance. I imagine you spent quite a bit of effort tracking me."

"Mr. Irwin, you have to understand," Fury began, his tone measured. "We are an organization dedicated to protecting the world."

Wes scoffed.

The moment the man started spouting noble ideals, he tuned out. Government officials—East or West—it was all the same scripted nonsense.

"Let's cut the crap," Wes said bluntly. "I don't have time to listen to your lecture."

Fury's frown was almost audible through the line. As S.H.I.E.L.D.'s director, few dared speak to him this way.

But at the moment, Wes had the upper hand.

"You want your men back alive?" Wes asked, his voice carrying an unmistakable edge.

"What are your terms?" Fury asked, getting straight to the point.

Wes smirked. "Tell me, Director… how much power does your organization really have?"

"In the United States?" Fury replied with confidence. "There's nothing we can't handle."

Wes rolled his eyes at the blatant exaggeration but didn't bother calling him out. Instead, he delivered his demand.

"Get me an excavator and a forklift. Fully operational. Transport them to my designated location before sundown."

There was a pause on the other end.

Fury exhaled, relieved.

"This is simple," he said.

"Good." Wes's voice turned icy. "And don't try to play any tricks. Unless you'd like to witness hell on Earth."

Fury's voice tightened. "What do you mean by that?"

Wes didn't answer. He simply hung up.

"Motherf—" Fury's furious expletive was cut off as the line went dead.

Wes tossed the phone back to Coulson, who barely caught it.

"Mr. Irwin, can you—" Coulson hesitated, his voice careful. "Can you release your magic now?"

"No." Wes's tone left no room for argument.

Coulson opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, a firm hand landed on his shoulder.

It was Carter.

The cowboy gave him a knowing look and said, "Don't push it. This wizard ain't the patient kind. Unless you want things to get worse, best let it be."

Coulson hesitated, then let out a defeated sigh.

There was no reasoning with Wes.

All he could do now was wait.