The Holy Son in Marvel

"I thought you were on my side, Solomon," Mephisto said, reaching a hand toward Carter Slade. But it was only for show. Mephisto would never trust Solomon—unless he fell into Hell itself. And even then, trust was not in the nature of a devil. 

"Unfortunately, my Rider isn't available right now. But it doesn't matter—hand over the contract, Carter Slade, and you'll be free."

Mordo and Kaecilius were on high alert. Though Mephisto's current incarnation appeared weak, no one underestimated the devil's spells and schemes. Hell's power could descend on this body at any moment. For Kamar-Taj, there was only one response: Mordo took a step forward, and his Staff of the Living Tribunal elongated as he swung it toward Mephisto. Just as it was about to strike, the devil waved a dismissive hand, sending Mordo hurtling back with a massive unseen force.

Mordo crashed into a tree planted in the graveyard with a heavy thud, then slumped to the ground, momentarily unable to rise. Seeing Mordo hurt, Kaecilius immediately moved to shield Solomon, his white sword flickering with orange sparks. Their mission was to buy time, and Kaecilius was determined to keep everyone safe.

The task wasn't easy, and Carter Slade realized as much. He was about to pull the contract back when Solomon grabbed the parchment. "Don't worry," Solomon said confidently. "This is just a shell—too weak to hold much of Mephisto's power. The more he uses, the quicker he'll burn through it."

Solomon's assessment was spot-on. As Mephisto cast spells, his hair gradually lost its golden tint, becoming a ghostly white. His cheekbones protruded as if his skin would split open at any moment. The devil king was merciless even toward his own incarnations, using them solely to squeeze out every last bit of value before discarding them. Solomon whispered something to Kaecilius, who nodded, and the two began chanting spells.

Six magic missiles, trailing blue flames, shot from Solomon and Kaecilius's hands toward Mephisto—an attack that would strike its target unerringly. Forced to defend, Mephisto cast a spell to block the missiles.

With Hell's power seeping through him, Mephisto's body grew increasingly emaciated. Seeing the devil preoccupied, Mordo seized the moment, dragging himself up and casting his own spell. A blazing whip wrapped around Mephisto, binding him tightly.

Their goal wasn't to destroy this incarnation but to push it to draw more power, thereby reducing Mephisto's strength in Hell.

Mephisto relaxed his resistance, appearing unperturbed. "What a shame," he remarked with a smile, as though the skirmish meant nothing. "I only wanted to collect what's mine. Why all the fuss? I've always hated doing my own dirty work."

"What do you mean?" Mordo demanded, still dizzy, "Answer me, devil."

"I have time," Mephisto said, casually dismissive of his situation. "I'll always have time. The souls that belong to me will come to me in the end—I'm in no rush."

Then, without warning, the devil vanished, as if glitched out of reality, slipping from Mordo's grasp without a trace. Mephisto had escaped. While this was not part of Mordo's plan, it was accounted for in the Sorcerer Supreme's contingency. As Mephisto disappeared, the ground around the chapel began to fold in on itself, and cracks spread through the sky like broken glass. No one had noticed when they had entered the Mirror Dimension, where the Sorcerer Supreme's silent spell had already ensnared them to avoid alerting Mephisto too soon. The mirrored world expanded, stretching until Houston's distant skyscrapers folded overhead, their lights stretching into starlike points. This dimension was now utterly sealed from the outside world.

Carter Slade gaped at the scene, the surreal sight overwhelming him. "If I hadn't lived so long, I'd think this was a hallucination," he muttered.

"In a way, it is a hallucination. None of this is real," Solomon replied, helping Mordo to his feet while Kaecilius prepared a portal. "Follow us, Carter Slade. No need to worry. Mephisto can't escape from here. But if he discovers the edges of this Mirror Dimension, he'll…"

"...come straight for you."

Hearing this voice, Solomon didn't hesitate. He turned, swinging his sword past Mordo, carving a deep red arc of blood in the air as crimson blood appeared on his blade, slicing through the empty space like an open wound. In the next moment, Hellfire erupted on the lawn, forcing Kaecilius to step forward and pull Mordo and Solomon back from the searing flames.

Carter Slade swung his shotgun from his back and fired, but the shot passed through the flames, hitting nothing. At that moment, Mordo's spell completed, conjuring a shield to hold back the rising flames and protect his fellow mystics. He felt it wasn't enough. The Book of Vishanti was limited in offensive spells; his previous use of the hellfire whip on Mephisto had only been a minor trick. Mordo regretted not using the "Crimson Bands of Cyttorak" earlier; had he done so, Mephisto might not have slipped away so easily.

But before Mordo could cast another spell, a portal opened beneath their feet. The mystics and the old Rider plummeted down, landing hard in the training grounds at Kamar-Taj. Solomon staggered to his feet, rubbing his bruised side, and saw the Sorcerer Supreme casting a spell, undoubtedly the one responsible for the portal.

"Master…"

"In the magical world, 'user experience' isn't a concept we worry about," the Sorcerer Supreme interjected before Solomon could finish, almost apologetically regarding the sudden portal. "Don't worry, the portal was timed just right. Mephisto's avatar didn't make it out."

Mordo stood silently, his head down.

"You did your best, Mordo." The Sorcerer Supreme, sensing her disciple's frustration, offered a few comforting words. "No one can force you to use a spell you're not willing to use. Kaecilius, take the Ghost Rider to rest—Roxanne is waiting for him there."

The Sorcerer Supreme quickly issued instructions, "Solomon, place the contract in the collection room. You'll later present it to Oshtur."

"And you, Mordo, you need rest. You're the only one injured from this mission."

"Yes, Master," Mordo replied, his expression dark. It was unclear whether he'd truly heard her words.

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