Marvel: My Sign-in System

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

The man, trapped in the giant hand of chaotic energy, was slammed into the ground repeatedly, like a ragdoll. Each impact left a deep dent in the earth.

By the time the onslaught subsided, he lay in a crater, battered and bloodied, his body torn and mangled. Yet, despite his horrific injuries, he appeared to possess a remarkable self-healing ability. Wisps of black aura surrounded him, twisting his broken limbs back into place. The gashes and wounds across his body began closing on their own, as though time itself rewound his injuries.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, his movements oddly composed, even elegant. He gazed at Wanda with an expression of mild confusion etched across his pale face.

"Are all human women this irritable?" he asked dryly.

"As a soulless demon, you wouldn't understand the significance of your untimely interruption," Wanda shot back, her tone sharp and laced with irritation.

She hesitated for a moment, her thoughts drifting to an old nemesis, before adding with disdain, "Another disgusting demon like Zero Zero Seven."

The man chuckled, straightening his tie with an air of nonchalance. "Ah, it seems my dear father has left a bad impression on you."

"So, you're Mephisto's son?" Wanda asked, narrowing her eyes.

"You can call me Blackheart, ma'am," he replied smoothly.

Wanda glanced over at Leon, who met her gaze with an expression that said, "Leave this one to you."

Leon was far from surprised by Blackheart's sudden appearance. In fact, the moment Blackheart materialized, Sky Blade had already begun analyzing him. From Leon's perception, honed by observation Haki, and from Sky Blade's precise calculations, it was clear that Blackheart was a formidable opponent.

He wasn't just strong—he was significantly more powerful than the soul projection of Mephisto himself. According to Sky Blade's assessment, Blackheart ranked just one level below pseudo-god status, making him a far greater threat than expected.

Wanda, too, could sense the profound darkness and raw power emanating from Blackheart. It was deep, evil, and menacing, but she remained calm and unshaken.

"Your appearance isn't just a coincidence," she stated confidently.

Blackheart smiled, his pale lips curving with amusement. "Indeed, it's no coincidence. In Hell, I heard that my father suffered a humiliating defeat. The source of that failure? You. Naturally, I was curious."

Wanda smirked, her tone turning ironic. "It seems you and your father have a very… close relationship."

Her words dripped with sarcasm, making it clear she meant the opposite of what she said.

Blackheart understood the weight of the moment, calmly tilting his head to glance at the sky. At some point, the dark clouds that had obscured the moonlight dissipated. Now, the moon shone brightly, casting an eerie and exclusive light on the land, a glow both serene and ominous.

"My birth was an accident," he began, his voice steady. "Mephisto created me out of accumulated mistakes. I was meant to be human, living under the sun."

He paused, his tone shifting to something darker. "But I never longed for such a life. Under his teachings, I explored the very essence of evil. Yet, perhaps because of my uniqueness—or maybe because I observed humans—I chose to rebel. I sought new forms of evil, ones beyond his understanding."

Blackheart's lips curled slightly in disdain. "He didn't take my disobedience lightly. In his wrath, he weakened me, stripping me of my power. I still yearn to overthrow his rule, to defy his very nature. But without strength, I had to make a choice. And that choice… is you. You are my chosen allies."

Leon raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. Blackheart spoke as though he were conferring some grand honor upon them, placing himself high above. The demon's words carried an arrogance that positioned Leon and Wanda as tools, passively selected and lesser.

Yet Leon wasn't angry. Instead, he observed silently, his sharp eyes watching every movement, every expression.

Wanda, however, caught the tone and couldn't help but respond. "You're confident—borderline arrogant," she said flatly.

Blackheart nodded, unapologetic. "With my status, I have every reason to be conceited. That arrogance is etched into my very being." Then, surprisingly, he softened his tone slightly. "But in your presence, I won't allow myself the folly of being overly conceited or reckless."

He studied them both, his dark eyes narrowing. "You and he are strong… special. But you don't realize the extent of my father's cunning and power."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping slightly. "He's already watching you."

Wanda's expression remained cold. "I don't care what you or your father want. So long as it doesn't interfere with our lives, it doesn't matter."

Blackheart turned his focus fully to Wanda, his gaze penetrating. His dark pupils seemed to glimmer with curiosity. "You're not ordinary mortals. Your aura betrays you. Within you lies the essence of white magic… and black magic."

He smiled, his tone turning persuasive. "You're like me—someone with extraordinary ambition. Together, we could forge an alliance, bring our visions to life. Help me overthrow my father, and the rewards will be unimaginable. The gifts a ruler of Hell can bestow are beyond comprehension."

With a flourish, he spread his arms wide, his confidence radiating like a shadowy beacon.

But Wanda's response was swift and cold.

"I'm not interested," she said sharply. Her crimson eyes began to glow ominously as she locked her gaze onto Blackheart's. "But next time I see you, I will destroy you."

Blackheart froze, startled by the transformation before him. Wanda's glowing eyes burned with a power he hadn't fully grasped. Her gaze held not just magic, but an undeniable authority—majestic, absolute, and almost divine.

For the first time, Blackheart realized his mistake, a grave one. What he saw in the eyes of the young woman before him wasn't fear, nor even contempt—it was something far more chilling. It was the look of someone who viewed his ambitions as trivial, insignificant, and beneath notice.

Her indifference cut deep. It wasn't just rejection; it was dismissal.

Blackheart felt a flicker of anger, but beneath that simmering rage was something unexpected—fascination. He'd never encountered anyone like this girl before. Her sheer power, her ruthless demeanor, and her unshakable confidence intrigued him in a way no one else ever had.

And that, for him, was both maddening… and irresistible.

However, Blackheart's thoughts did not escape Leon's notice.

Whoosh!

Leon's figure vanished in an instant, leaving a gust of air in his wake. In the blink of an eye, he reappeared directly in front of Blackheart, moving so fast that the demon didn't even have time to react.

Standing face to face, they were of similar height, yet Blackheart inexplicably felt as though he was looking up at Leon, as if the man's presence alone placed him on a higher plane.

"Your ideas are dangerous," Leon said calmly, his voice steady but chillingly cold.

A wave of tension swept through Blackheart. He felt a powerful, suffocating aura emanating from Leon, a dangerous energy that was impossible to ignore. Leon's normally gentle eyes now glinted with an icy detachment, as though he were staring at a lifeless corpse.

Blackheart, though arrogant, was no fool. He quickly understood that his momentary interest in the girl had crossed a line—a line that Leon had clearly drawn in blood.

"I always thought she was the stronger one," Blackheart admitted, his tone laced with grudging respect. "But I was wrong. You are the strongest—the one who defeated my father."

Leon didn't reply. His silence carried more weight than any words.

Raising a single finger, he pointed it directly at the center of Blackheart's forehead. A golden, radiant light began to shimmer at the tip, forming a glowing cross-shaped star that radiated heat, brilliance, and a sense of divine sanctity.

Sizzle…

The light burned as it touched Blackheart's skin. The area between his brows began to darken, turning an inky black as if the light itself was driving out the very essence of his being.