When Dragon Balls Descend Upon Marvel

Alexei and X had arrived in Kathmandu, Nepal, their goal being none other than Baron Mordo.

Like the others, the dossier they'd been given was sparse, only listing his name—Karl Mordo—and identifying him as a Grand Sorcerer of Kamar-Taj.

X stared at the sketched likeness in the file, a curious smile tugging at his lips.

Alexei noticed and asked:

"What's so funny, X?"

X smirked.

"The candidate we're here to invite… seems to be black."

Alexei's eyes lit up. He remembered hearing his daughter Natasha mention that their leader, Smith Dole, carried an unspoken nickname—the "Hunter of N——." It was a name whispered half in fear, half in awe. Even Nick Fury himself avoided private meetings with Smith, lest he be mistaken for one of the hated criminals and shot on sight.

Alexei chuckled darkly.

"Well, now that is interesting. Let's hope this Baron refuses to join the tournament—that would make things very entertaining."

He then shook his head in disbelief.

"Still, sorcerers… I didn't think they were real. Have you ever run into any before, X?"

X shook his head.

"No sorcerers. Just magicians in New York. And trust me—those clowns are nothing like this."

Their conversation ended when they reached a modest house. Before Alexei could knock, the door swung open, and Baron Mordo himself greeted them.

"Gentlemen. I am Karl Mordo. Please, come in."

The two exchanged a glance and stepped inside.

Once seated, Alexei asked:

"You knew we were coming?"

Mordo nodded.

"Yes. You've come about the Dragon Balls, haven't you?"

Alexei raised his brows. Impressive—this sorcerer was sharp.

"Correct. We're staff for the Dragon Ball Tournament. I'll ask you directly, Karl Mordo—will you enter?"

Mordo replied calmly:

"I will."

Alexei produced a golden coin—the tournament's ticket—and handed it over, explaining the rules and the process.

"We must also confirm your wish. If it's evil, or involves world destruction, you will be denied even if you win."

Mordo's eyes narrowed in thought.

"Truly, any wish can be granted?"

X cut in:

"Any except those that are destructive or evil. Those are automatically void."

Mordo folded his arms, falling into deep contemplation. Ancient dangers passed through his mind: incursions from other dimensions, demonic threats, the delicate balance of reality itself. Gu Yi had given him this Dragon Ball for a reason—what was he supposed to wish for?

Could the dragon repel dimensional gods? Strengthen the three Sanctums' barriers? Fortify the Earth itself?

Was this a test of his judgment? Or perhaps a way to gauge whether the dragon was connected to some other-dimensional deity?

At last, Alexei pressed again:

"Your wish, Baron Mordo?"

Mordo answered with solemnity:

"If any wish can be granted, then I wish for the dragon to prevent dimensional demon-gods from invading Earth. If that cannot be done, then strengthen the Three Sanctums' barriers. If even that is impossible, then strengthen Earth itself."

Alexei and X were taken aback. They hadn't expected such a selfless, grand wish. The terms he used—dimensional gods, sanctums—were information well beyond their scope.

Alexei nodded.

"Very well. Your wish has been recorded. As a contestant, you may also bring up to ten spectators. Before the tournament, we will return to escort you."

Mordo inclined his head, watching them leave before reporting the matter back to the Ancient One.

······

Meanwhile, Smith Dole and Fox arrived in a remote Australian settlement. There was only a lonely clay house and a single gnarled tree nearby. This was the hideaway of Thena and Gilgamesh.

A sign over the doorway read, "Kiss the Cook."

Fox frowned.

"A restaurant in the middle of nowhere? Looks more like a front for bandits."

From her years in the League of Assassins, she knew that such hidden establishments often doubled as traps.

As they entered the yard, the door opened, and a burly Asian man stepped out, apron covered in flour.

It was Gilgamesh of the Eternals.

"Oh, customers! What'll it be?"

His eyes landed on Fox, and he froze. Then he turned sharply and called out toward the house:

"Thena! Thena, come out here—quick!"

As Thena's closest friend of millennia, Gilgamesh knew her inside and out. The woman before him looked almost identical—but her aura, her very presence, was entirely different.

Moments later, Thena emerged, her expression curious.

"What is it? What's going on?"

······

(End of Chapter)

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