(General P.O.V)

~The Lost Arts By Solomon The King Mage~

-In the annals of magical mastery, the concept of a "hammer space" has been a well-guarded secret.

This concealed realm, also known as an inventory or personal dimension, is a testament to the wonders of magic and psionics.

By harnessing magic or psionic energy, one can forge a pocket in the vast expanse of space, isolating it from the world.

This pocket is then intricately linked to a person's mana well or psionic pool. The bond between energy and space is unbreakable.

As one's energy pool swells with power, so does their personal dimension, expanding to accommodate their ever-growing potential.

Yet, it's vital to remember that this sanctuary remains ephemeral.

Upon the owner's death, the personal dimension purges itself of all contents.

Only soul-bonded artifacts retain their connection, lingering in spirit form alongside the soul of the owner.

Thus, the secrets of the hammer space, known to few, remain a testament to the enigmatic arts of magic and psionics.-

(General P.O.V)

In the vast, lightless expanse of the Never, streams of drifting souls flowed inexorably towards the afterlife.

Billions of lives lost in an unexpected battle. A battle that was not fought between humans. Yet was still a result of human hubris.

The deities of the Afterlife were having a field day. A system was usually in place to handle any dead soul.

However the sudden outpouring of dead souls from the Earth into the Never had caused the whole channel to almost collapse on its self.

And so vital was the Never; it was basically the road to each soul's eventual end, be it Hell or Heaven, Svarga or Naraka, Elysium fields or Hades, all these souls passed through the Never.

The current strain on the system caused a few blindspots that could allow any sufficiently powerful being to sneak into the Never for a feasting of the souls.

*******

Within the almost endless path of rare white, gray and rare black spheres which were the three main types of souls, a single soul stood out from the countless others.

It was larger and more radiant, its presence dominating the dim surroundings as it trudged in its path to the end of the Never.

Within this luminous soul, six shimmering colors swirled, encircling a dark red ring and a golden Trident at its center.

The aura emitted by this peculiar soul was like a beacon in the void, a stark contrast to the somber, ethereal ambiance of the Never.

Unbeknownst to the drifting souls around it, this extraordinary presence had drawn the attention of Mephisto, one of the lords of Hell, a being of immense power and darkness.

Someone sufficiently powerful enough to slip into the Never.

The darkness of the Never seemed to wash away to reveal a floating figure. Mephisto was dressed in a red pinstriped suit and carried a shiny gold cane in his hands.

His speed was slow beside the stream of souls. He perused each soul, knowing their entire life from a single glance.

And that's when he saw it. An unique soul among the mundane ones that carried no real value.

A mortal had to do something extraordinarily filling to their Existence to possess a special soul. Unfortunately that was easier said than done.

And on account that that fulfilment was usually mostly due to a lifetime dedication to something positive, Special Souls for someone like Mephisto were rare in and between.

So without wasting time, he dove down to see this soul. And learn how he could use it to further his plans.

"Ah, shiny little thing, aren't you?"

Mephisto's crimson eyes, burning with malevolent curiosity, fixated on the unique soul.

The rainbow color pulled to his sight like a metal to a magnet. The Soul itself was a bit bigger when compared to the rest of the souls at its front or back.

A sinister grin slowly spread out across Mephisto's face, revealing sharp, obsidian teeth.

The Lord of Hell leaned forward, his interest piqued. His spindly fingers reached out towards the drifting soul, their claws extending like the talons of a predatory beast.

"Such powerful mental energy."

Mephisto chuckled darkly as the soul's innate Psionic abilities blocked his probe.

"But you'll need more than that to stop me, little soul."

The Lord of Hell used his presence to forcefully burst through the psionic shield.

Immediately his face twisted into a disgusted scowl.

"Yuck. Olympian Gods."

The stench of the Greek divinity clued Mephisto in on what the six colors surrounding the...boy were.

A manifestation of the god's power. This soul had been a chosen champion. That explains why it was special.

But still, Mephisto felt as if there was more to uncover.

"I'll need some time with you, if I'm to discover the secrets you hold."

His clawed hand closed around the radiant soul, severing its connection to the ethereal stream. The other souls continued their journey, oblivious to the fate that had befallen their extraordinary companion.

And then with a single snap of his fingers, Mephisto's next step landed on a marbled floor. There was fire all around him as he walked to his throne, the scarlet licks of the flames dancing wildly in the air.

The change was too sudden. The soul in his hands was very noticeably agitated by the Infernal environment it was now in.

"Have worry, this will not end so soon. Hope is not a luxury you can afford, little soul."

The Lord of Hell said, sitting back in his throne to begin studying the special soul even more.

And that's when the rainbow colors shifted around to reveal something at the center. A glowing trident that felt like the whole ocean and a Red ring.

The moment he sensed the ring at its core, shock coursed through him.

"This… this is a Legion," Mephisto whispered, his voice a chilling hiss that reverberated through the void.

A powerful magical artifact forged from the torment of a thousand barren women, the infidelity of a hundred thousand adulterers, and the suffering of a million slaves.

Its sole purpose was to imprison demons of the caliber of Satan himself.

Mephisto's grotesque face twisted with a mixture of greed and malevolence.

"A grand opportunity. Though this universe's Earth may be lost...there are countless others to exploit."

The Hell lord's laughter echoed through the Infernal Realm as he cradled the Legion in his grasp, its ominous power pulsating in his clutches.

The souls of the damned that surrounded him moaned in agony, their suffering a symphony that played to his delight.

Mephisto's eyes gleamed with anticipation as he contemplated the possibilities this artifact could offer him.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

With the Legion in his possession, he had the 72 demon pillars to call onto. Some possessing abilities even on par with him.

The balance of power in hell had shifted, and Mephisto reveled in his newfound advantage.

"I hope you don't mind if I retain this object from your possession?"

Mephisto jokingly said as he tried to puncture into the core of the soul.

"I assure you, this will not be pleasant. Then again, Hell rarely is."

His presence was halted as no matter what string, link or pull he used on the ring, it was firmly stuck within the soul.

"Mmmh a Soul Bonded Artefact huh? This complicates things."

Mephisto said, leaning back with a frown.

"I might need to call on someone unexpected to deal with this."

The Hell Lord decided.

(Elsewhere)

The chamber was silent yet abuzz with quiet murmurs that were scattered about.

King T'chaka, flanked on both sides by his Dora Milage, made his way into the throne room.

His entrance silenced the room filled with elders of Wakanda's tribes. The whispers coming to a hush as the ruler of the secretive nation strolled in.

King T'Chaka took his throne and turned around with a heavy heart.

His face was set in a serious expression. What he said next confirmed their fears.

"My esteemed elders, the outside world has plunged itself into nuclear warfare."

Murmurs rippled through the room as anxiety coursed through everyone present.

The tension thickened when one of the elders from the River tribe, a respected woman named Nia, spoke up,

"And what of our War Dogs scattered across the world?"

"I am doing everything in my power to bring them back safely, Nia."

The king's expression softened as he replied,

Before he could continue, M'baku, the Chief of the Jabari tribe, rudely interrupted,

"And what if those same nuclear missiles are turned upon us? Can your precious dome and technology save you then?"

Debate erupted among the elders. Some believed the Wakandan dome would shield them from the devastation outside, while others, like Zuri, a historian with a skeptical outlook, pointed out something that became a focal point of the whole argument,

"An Outsider infiltrated our nation before. We cannot underestimate the threat that it may happen again, this time with dire results."

A wave of another arguments hit the throne as tensions rose up even further.

"Silence!"

Prince T'Challa, standing next to his father yelled out.

The unexpectedness of it all quieted the room.

King T'Chaka took that chance and rose from his throne.

"Wakanda has always prevailed under the watch of the Black Panther. My son took a vow to defend our nation just as my ancestors did."

He looked at T'Challa proudly.

"Just as I did-"

A sudden disruption shook the room, cutting off the King's next words.

The distinctive beeping of the Dora Milaje's Kimoyo beads bracelets filled the air—a proximity alert had been triggered.

Something fast was moving towards the Throne room.

"Duck!"

One of the Dora said, tackling a colleague aside just as the walls of the throne room caved in.

Something colossal, the Hulkbuster suit soared through the breach, it's yellow and red color contrasting with the black, purple and gray in the room.

"Everyone get back!"

T'Challa shouted, pushing himself to his feet while helping his father up.

The elders in the throne room complied, however the Dora Milaje, loyal to their duty, immediately positioned themselves in front of the king.

"Stand down or face our wrath"

Okoye the general and Captain of the Dora demanded of the figure within the Hulkbuster suit.

She twirled her Vibranium spear for effect.

Ultron, who was controlling the armored behemoth, raised its bulky hands in the air as it to surrender.

but then suddenly the wrist launchers activated, missiles primed for launch.

"Oops."

The A.I said from within the Hulkbuster's systems.

"Missile!" one of the Dora Milaje shouted, reacting swiftly. Their energy shields deployed, creating a protective barrier around the king and prince.

"Nifty," Ultron commented coldly as his suit's shoulder pauldrons opened up, revealing more menacing weaponry.

Before Ultron could fire, M'baku, the only one of the Elders who hadn't ran away, let out a fierce war cry and lunged at the armor.

His vibranium staff came crashing down, disabling one of the Hulkbuster suit's shoulder-mounted weapons.

"Protect my father," T'Challa commanded as he tapped his Kimoyo beads, instantly suiting up in his Black Panther attire. With agility and precision, he leaped into the fray.

Wakanda had survived worse. And with the Black Panther at the helm, the nation would never fall.

(Attilan:- Darkside of the Moon)

In the heart of the enigmatic city of Attilan, beneath the protective shield of the Great Dome, the court of King Black Bolt was a place of solemnity and intrigue.

The regal throne room, adorned with intricate carvings and bathed in an ethereal, otherworldly light, was the center of power in this ancient society of the Inhumans.

King Black Bolt, ruler of Attilan, sat resolutely upon his ebony throne, his eyes masked by the impenetrable cowl that concealed his features.

His presence alone exuded authority, and the courtiers who gathered before him bowed in deference. Among them was his brother, Prince Maximus, a man of cunning and ambition.

Maximus, with his wild shock of auburn hair and piercing blue eyes, had always been the antithesis of his silent, stoic brother.

He had long harbored dreams of expanding the dominion of the Inhumans beyond the confines of Attilan, and today he had a proposal that he believed would resonate with his brother's thirst for power. A trait shared by many a king.

And with the Earth's current condition, such a conquest would be easy to pull off and carried minimal risk if any at all.

With a sly smile that danced upon his lips, Maximus walked before King Black Bolt and bowed,

"My liege, I have devised a plan that may secure our supremacy in the cosmos."

Black Bolt looked on impassively.

Maximus forged on,

"I propose we send a probe to the shattered remnants of the human world. Once the dust settles and the planet heals, we can seize it, forging a new empire under the banner of the Inhumans."

Queen Medusa, resplendent with her flowing crimson hair, sat beside her husband, her regal bearing matched only by the glint of wisdom in her eyes.

She shot Maximus a withering glare, her voice a soft but stern rebuke.

"Maximus, your ambitions are fraught with militarism and conquest. We should not tread this path. Our duty is to protect and nurture our own people, not seek dominion over others."

Maximus, however, was undeterred. He waved a dismissive hand in Medusa's direction, taunting her with a mocking smirk.

"Ah, dear sister-in-law, you always were a pacifist. But I wonder, does my brother even have the courage to say no to my proposal? Can he even speak for himself?"

The challenge hung heavy in the air, and all eyes turned to Black Bolt.

With measured deliberation, the king rose from his throne, his presence commanding the attention of every soul in the room.

His gaze fixed upon Maximus, and then, with a voice that was rarely heard but eternally feared, he whispered but a single word.

"No."

The word was a thunderclap, a sonic boom that reverberated through the throne room, shaking the very foundations of Attilan itself.

The sheer power of Black Bolt's voice unleashed a seismic shockwave, causing chandeliers to sway and tapestries to billow.

Courtiers clung to pillars and each other, their faces a tableau of awe and fear.

Maximus, too, was caught in the maelstrom, his taunting grin wiped away by the force of his brother's word.

He knelt on the ground, cracks surrounding the floor while the force of impact seemed to have avoided his position.

Maximus looked up into his brother's eyes and knew there was no way he would agree with is plans.

'Fine then brother. If you insist on making me a kin-slayer...then so be it.'

His ambition fueled his hatred.

(Elsewhere) (Around the World)

In the aftermath of the catastrophic nuclear war that had ravaged the Earth, the planet itself had become a scarred and wounded entity.

Gaia, the ancient and primordial spirit of the Earth, wept for her suffering children.

She had seen humanity's self-destruction many times before, but this time was different.

This time, hope had been stolen away completely. The soul of one of her children. A boy who carried within him the essence of several of Gaia's divine offspring.

A culmination of godly power and responsibility. The one chosen to stand between the forces of darkness and humanity...

Was dead.

Now that in itself wouldn't be a big problem. Gaia was an entity of immense power. She held divinity over motherhood, nature and life, bringing one dear soul back to life was a simple endeavor.

Unfortunately, that did not happen. Why?

Her chosen One's soul was lost. Taken to another dimension. It was a blatant disregard for her stature.

She had left his mark on him, any sufficiently powerful being; at least one capable of stealing a soul from the Never, a stream that guided souls to the Afterlife, should have realized the boy belonged to her.

And so Gaia raged.

Her fury was a force of nature in and of itself, a tempest of raw power that reverberated through the cosmos.

It knew no bounds as she sought to reclaim the soul of her Chosen One.

She battered against the very fabric of reality, her cries of anger echoing through the dimensions.

A consequence of her anger was that the already devastated mortal world bore the brunt of her rage.

The skies darkened with ominous storm clouds, thunder rumbled like a titan's roar, and lightning struck with unrelenting ferocity.

Earthquakes shook the already shattered ground, swallowing the remains of destroyed cities whole, along with tsunamis of unprecedented scale battering the coastlines.

For seven days and seven nights, the planet convulsed under Gaia's onslaught.

Snowstorms blanketed regions unaccustomed to such frigid weather, and hurricanes spawned with a violence that defied all natural order.

The very laws of physics seemed to unravel as Gaia's anger threatened to tear apart the fabric of reality itself.

The already low numbers of living beings left alive experienced a secondary hell.

Forests caught on fire, eating through already dying vegetation and pushing animals to starvation and suffocation.

The Earth had not only sustained a nuclear apocalypse, now mother Nature herself had turned her back on the planet.

******

In the depths of the Infernal Realm, Mephisto was frowning.

Once more the dimension walls separating his realm from the material world trembled as an Elder God tried to break through.

He was invincible here, but Gaia was not a simple god. An Elder God was immensely more powerful.

Mephisto hadn't noticed any mark on the soul, but the seven Olympian legacies should have been indication not to mess with it.

In a desperate bid to preserve his realm, he called out for help.

Help which culminated in the form cosmic entities no weaker than Gaia herself.

Master Order and Lord Chaos, who maintained the balance of the universe, rarely if ever intervened.

However Gaia's fury was such that the whole cosmos was in danger of being destroyed by the collision of hell and the physical world.

The two Conceptual beings combined their might and formed a barrier, a dimensional wall separating Gaia from the Mortal world, confining her into an pocket dimension where they would try to reason with the angered Elder god.

Gaia, her form wreathed in the fury of nature itself, refused to listen, therefore clashing with the two.

Her screams of anguish and rage shook the heavens, shattering the very bounds of the pocket dimension.

But Master Order and Lord Chaos held firm, their determination matched only by Gaia's own resolve.

The battle between these three cosmic forces raged on across the heavens. A cataclysmic clash that defied description.

It was a contest of wills, of power, and of the very essence of existence.

As the days turned into nights, Gaia's fury gradually waned, her strength spent against the unwavering defense of Master Order and Lord Chaos.

Finally, as the seventh night fell, Gaia's rage completely subsided. Her grief and anger remained, but her destructive force ebbed away.

With a mournful cry, she withdrew, retreating into the depths of the Earth, leaving behind a world forever scarred by her wrath.

But greater than her wrath was her anguish. For she knew what challenges would soon face the mortal world without a champion to stand in between it and the darkness.