Dormammu, determined to claim the Xenomorph for himself, immediately concentrated his power to attack Duncan.
Countless black magic particles coalesced into sharp, purple spikes, resembling the collapse of a fragment of the universe. Like beams of light, they densely rained down upon Duncan with a thunderous force.
However, Duncan simply snapped his head up, his eyes blazing with an extraordinarily intense heat vision. In a swift motion, he turned his head, annihilating every single magical attack in an instant.
His movements were as fast as lightning, almost like teleportation. He streaked across Earth's outer space at high speed, his figure darting unpredictably. With each strike, he erased vast swaths of black magic.
Duncan could feel his power surging through him, rapidly adapting to it while continuously layering it for greater strength.
For a brief moment, a thought crossed his mind—if he were the real Superman, simply fighting in outer space would already be an enormous advantage.
From afar, the sun shone generously, pouring down its energy.
Even though Duncan wielded the power of a million stars within his pocket universe, he was not the sum of a million Supermen.
"Is this all you've got? Is this the limit of you, the so-called master of the Xenomorphs? With such feeble strength, what right do you have to control such a creature? You might as well join the Xenomorphs and become a part of me."
Dormammu let out a terrifying laugh, each soundwave resembling the whispered echoes of the universe itself.
"Don't be deceived by him. We are the ones fighting on home ground. He's trying to lure you into attacking first so he can swallow you into the Dark Dimension. If that happens, not even I can save you." The Ancient One warned.
Once trapped in the Dark Dimension, escaping would be nearly impossible without the power to shatter an entire dimension. Facing Dormammu in his complete form meant there would be no way out.
With a wave of her hand, the Ancient One once again wielded the Time Stone, converting its power into a visibly glowing green light. Effortlessly, she began reversing everything before her.
Even someone as powerful as Dormammu, capable of existing outside the dimension of time, could not escape the direct interference of the Time Stone. His presence in the physical universe was inevitably altered.
Moreover, with artifacts such as the Book of Vishanti and the Cauldron of the Cosmos under the Ancient One's command, their combined might relentlessly assaulted Dormammu.
Dormammu harbored a deep resentment toward the Ancient One, partly because of her absurd number of artifacts. No matter how he attacked, she always managed to pull out another powerful relic to counter him.
In this battle, the Ancient One took the initiative, shouldering the bulk of Dormammu's aggression.
"I find it amusing—every being that covets my Xenomorphs, whether human or god, only sees them as miraculous creatures to be seized, reshaped, and molded to fit their desires. Yet, none have truly understood why I am able to control them… The title 'Master of the Xenomorphs' is one I quite like. But even you, Dormammu, have never truly grasped its meaning."
Duncan took a deep breath. At this moment, he wielded the power of three times that of Reynolds. Such strength, on its own, was far from enough to defeat Dormammu—especially now that he had half of his body free from the Dark Dimension.
But this was only the beginning.
He attempted to fold and amplify the power of a million stars.
Boom!
A deafening sound erupted from Duncan, as if countless planets were colliding, or as if a billion stars had suddenly reversed through time, their magnetic fields flipping chaotically.
Duncan began compressing and inversely layering the power of a million stars. As a result, his energy surged once more, doubling in an instant.
But this was still not the end. He attempted to fully compress and reverse the power, completing the first stage of energy compaction.
His form expanded once more, growing even taller and more imposing. His body swelled with an overwhelming amount of energy, desperately seeking an outlet.
Dormammu, colossal beyond measure, was the perfect target.
Duncan spread his arms wide. Though his physical form was minuscule in comparison, the golden energy web bursting from his body rapidly expanded at an uncontrollable pace. In the midst of infinite darkness, he forcefully carved out a shining golden domain.
Energy clashed against magic, negating each other until both dissipated into nothingness.
Amidst the thunderous roar of power, Duncan accelerated, shattering the bindings of black magic in an instant. In the blink of an eye, he appeared before Dormammu's true form—though he was still at an immense distance.
With a sudden punch, golden energy erupted from within him, cascading outward like an infinite, cyclic stellar explosion.
A force built from billions of compressed energies surged forward under Duncan's control, crashing straight toward Dormammu.
Dormammu's head—struck by the space-tearing, sun-shaking golden energy—immediately showed a gaping hole, an area untouched by his eternal flames.
As torrents of black magic scattered and dissolved, they soon began coalescing again, desperately trying to repair the wound on Dormammu's form.
Immediately, the Ancient One also charged forward in sync, holding the Book of Vishanti aloft. The ancient tome flipped through its pages automatically, unleashing a cascade of intricate mystical patterns. These were sacred spells worthy of being engraved in the halls of magic, now raining down like a relentless storm upon Dormammu.
Dormammu let out a furious roar that shattered distant planets. With a sweep of his massive hand, he conjured countless powerful magical storms, seeking to consume everything before him.
But the Ancient One had long anticipated this, using the Time Stone to block the attack in an instant, redirecting Dormammu's assault into the depths of time itself.
"Is this all the power you have?" Dormammu lowered his colossal, flame-wreathed head. "You've exhausted your tricks, and all you've managed is a tiny wound on me? With such pathetic combat prowess, I could fight you for a million years! I doubt you can even survive that long!"
"A million years?" Duncan sneered. "Why don't you try saying that to the God of Black Magic and see if they agree with your nonsense? If the power you wield were truly your own, if you were the origin of black magic itself, then your words might carry some weight."
As he spoke, Duncan unleashed another ruthless assault. In this brief moment, his strength had tripled.
Now, even Dormammu—who had stepped beyond the Dark Dimension—felt a flicker of pain.
Duncan's gaze sharpened. He could perceive every microscopic particle, observe the movement and reconfiguration of atoms and molecules. His vision transcended space, falling upon Dormammu's immense, flame-clad form, which radiated powerful black magic. In the depths of the Dark Dimension, countless shadowy creatures lurked, drifting through the abyss.
Duncan knew—these were entities that had escaped from the borders of Hell into the Dark Dimension. Their numbers were overwhelming, and no matter how many were slain, more would take their place.
Just as Dormammu had said, the power Duncan currently wielded was still insufficient to truly defeat him.
He quickly assessed his own condition. His mental burden was reaching an unprecedented level, but he estimated he could hold out a little longer.
His gaze flickered toward the Ancient One—silent most of the time, but striking with unparalleled precision and decisiveness. Every spell she cast targeted Dormammu's vital weaknesses. Most astonishing of all, she had started the battle wielding white magic and demonic sorcery, but now she had abandoned all pretense, freely unleashing black magic. The more dangerous, the more insidious the spells, the more frequently she wielded them, bombarding Dormammu relentlessly.
At first, Duncan had worried the Ancient One might collapse first. But now, it seemed that if anyone's composure was cracking, it might just be Dormammu.
"In this universe, I am the supreme master of black magic," Dormammu's voice thundered. "Even your revered Ancient One is nothing more than a thief who has stolen my power. Look at her face. Feel her magic. Without my generous gifts, she would have perished long ago! And now, she dares to use black magic against me? Oh? So she's not even stealing from me anymore—she's bypassing me entirely and borrowing directly from that other being? She courts death."
Dormammu's words echoed directly in Duncan's mind, resonating through all three layers of his consciousness. The demon god tempted him: "Why follow the Ancient One, a mere mortal? A fleeting lifespan of a few centuries, only prolonged through theft—why not reconsider? Why not join me instead?"
"You?" Duncan scoffed. "You expect me to be your lapdog?"
With a powerful shoulder charge, he tore through several black magic barriers, expanding the golden domain around him. He spoke slowly, his voice resolute.
"Serving a cosmic god is no disgrace. Don't forget—you were once human!" Dormammu coaxed. "Think of Kaecilius. You could be stronger than him, more distinguished than him. No matter which star or world you set foot on, gods and mortals alike would bow before you—because you would be my servant."
His voice grew more insidious. "Besides, you command the Xenomorphs. As the origin of such creatures, your human nature is your greatest weakness. Why not abandon it? Cast aside your humanity and embrace your identity as a Xenomorph. Pledge yourself to me."
"Not a bad offer," Duncan admitted. "At another time, I might have been tempted."
Then his expression turned cold. "But I just thought of something better—if I can make you suffer, wouldn't that prove I'm truly exceptional? After all, even the great Dormammu cannot take me down."
The Ancient One's expression remained unchanged. She knew Duncan's personality well—someone like him would never bow to a demon god, not even a single-universe-tier dimensional overlord.
"I recall you mentioned having multiple contingency plans," the Ancient One said as she pressed forward, conjuring an intricate web of time barriers using the Time Stone.
She cut straight to the point: "Do you have a reliable way to deal with Dormammu? You know full well that we won't last much longer. We're relying more and more on the Time Stone, and Dormammu is in bad shape, too—his power has been constantly siphoned away by me over the years. But he can hold out longer than the two of us."
"If you're asking whether I have the strength to defeat Dormammu in a one-on-one fight—no. I'm not a god, after all. To be precise, I am merely the master of Xenomorphs. There is no way I can kill a being of Dormammu's caliber at this stage."
But there were other ways to turn the tide.
The Ancient One had her artifacts.
And Duncan had his own.
Asgard.
The entire Asgardian race was closely watching this battle. Some, fearless to the point of recklessness, were already clamoring to march to Midgard and join the fight.
"When we were in trouble, the Midgardians helped us. Now that they are facing difficulties, we cannot stand idly by."
"Just in time, Jotunheim has also withdrawn its forces. This is a golden opportunity."
"You fools! Are you really equating Duncan and the Xenomorphs with all Midgardians? Those are two entirely different things! Even if we are to help, it should be Duncan, not the rest of the Midgardians!"
"What is the King doing? He still hasn't given any orders."
The honor of the Asgardians dictated that, even when faced with impending darkness, they could never retreat.
Thor felt the same way. That's why he stormed into the great hall, accompanied by several Xenomorphs.
"My brother, do you even know what you're doing? You are dragging all of Asgard into a war that is nearly impossible to win! Our opponent is a true demon god, not some enemy we've faced before."
Loki tightened his grip on Gungnir, his face darkening as he glared at Thor.
His gaze flickered repeatedly toward the towering, muscular Xenomorphs standing nearby.
"When we went to war with Jotunheim, Duncan didn't think we could win either, yet he still provided us with a steady stream of aid. And what have we done for him?" Thor asked loudly.
Loki was furious. "You already gave him Mjolnir! That is the weapon of the God of Thunder—something no mere mortal should ever be allowed to wield! Isn't that enough? It is only because you command the Xenomorph army that I haven't formally demanded Mjolnir's return in the name of the King!"
Thor shook his head. "It's not enough. He lifted Mjolnir himself—I didn't ask him to. You know this as well as I do. And just Mjolnir alone wouldn't have led to this situation. If not for Dormammu's invasion of Midgard, we would have received even more Xenomorph reinforcements."
"So that's your reason for waging war against Dormammu in Asgard's name? What do we even have to fight Dormammu with?"
"We can send Duncan some items from the treasure vault. Heimdall told me that Duncan used a powerful spell to merge with a Xenomorph, and he is currently fighting alongside Midgard's Sorcerer Supreme to resist Dormammu. We can transport some artifacts to him—just as he once aided us."
Loki sat on the throne, gripping Gungnir tightly. His face turned pale, then flushed with anger. At times, he truly wanted to use this divine spear to knock some sense into Thor.
He genuinely wished he could crack open Thor's skull and see what ridiculous thoughts were inside.
Being played by Duncan and still helping him count the coins?
Loki refused to believe that Thor didn't realize Duncan had joined the battle only to capture more divine captives and use them as parasitic hosts to strengthen his army.
Look at the Frost Giants who had been captured—their numbers had already reached six hundred.
Loki hesitated. Should he awaken the slumbering Odin?
The situation had spiraled far beyond his expectations. But if he did that, all his careful planning would be ruined.
He was supposed to prove to everyone that he was the superior heir—far more capable than Thor.
"Hiss!"
A Xenomorph suddenly let out a sharp cry.
Loki's expression darkened. "What did that thing just say?"
Thor thought for a moment before replying, "If I'm not mistaken, it's asking to borrow the Destroyer Armor… No, this isn't its idea—it's Duncan's. Duncan needs the Destroyer Armor!"
"The Destroyer?" Loki fell silent. Though it was an incredibly powerful artifact, it wasn't on the same level as Gungnir. Besides, the Destroyer had been sitting unused in the vault for a thousand years.
Seeing Loki's hesitation, Thor didn't wait for his response. He simply bypassed him and strode into the treasury, retrieving the Destroyer Armor himself.
Loki clenched his jaw, barely containing his anger. Then, exercising his authority as King, he deactivated the control restrictions on the Destroyer.
"Let's just hope he doesn't disgrace this weapon, which carries a legacy of honor, with failure and humiliation." Loki said coldly. "If simply lending out an idle suit of armor can help him drive away Dormammu, then so be it."
Immediately, Heimdall activated the Bifrost, sending the Destroyer Armor to Midgard in an instant.
Dormammu noticed this as well, his gaze locking onto the unmistakable glow of the Bifrost.
A few thousand years ago, Dormammu wouldn't have dared extend his Dark Dimension's influence onto Earth so brazenly.
Everyone knew how terrifying an aging Odin could be—fearing no one, wielding Gungnir, ready to charge into battle.
But now? Rumors of Odin's death were spreading everywhere. The fact that he remained absent even amid a war between two realms only confirmed it.
So now Asgard was sending over the Destroyer Armor via the Bifrost?
What use was that?
Dormammu grinned wickedly and prepared to sever the Bifrost, intending to destroy the armor mid-transport.
But Duncan was already in motion. In the blink of an eye, he transformed into a streak of light, intercepting the Bifrost's transmission.
The legendary Destroyer Armor, once wielded by Odin against the Celestials, now adorned Duncan.
A crimson Cloak of Levitation draped itself over the shoulders of the Destroyer, billowing as if alive.
"This was part of your plan all along?" the Ancient One asked.
"That's right. What did you think an emergency plan was? It's not some magic wish-granting machine that solves every problem. True strategy is about maximizing the effectiveness of the limited resources at your disposal."
The Destroyer Armor granted Duncan an all-encompassing enhancement—mind, soul, cells, body—everything surged to new heights under its power.
Even though he had just donned the armor, Duncan could already feel his limits expanding exponentially.
At last, he understood why Odin had dared to wear this armor and lead the divine pantheon of Yggdrasil into battle against the Celestials.
Like a true god of war, Duncan rampaged across the vast battlefield of the cosmos.
His newfound power violently tore through anything that stood in his path.
For the first time, Dormammu's attacks began to lose their overwhelming edge.
"Again, again! Why is it that on this insignificant planet, there are always people standing against me?"
Dormammu, growing increasingly frustrated with repeated setbacks, had completely lost his patience. He simply couldn't comprehend—he was one of the most powerful demon gods in the universe, meant to reign supreme—so why did these lowly ants keep rejecting the olive branch he extended to them?
All Dormammu wanted was to devour Earth, kill the Ancient One, and seize the Xenomorphs. Was that really so excessive? Wasn't this just another routine event for a cosmic demon god? Even the Celestials used countless intelligent beings to sustain themselves—why was he any different?
"You're mistaken, Dormammu. You are the one standing against me, not the other way around."
Duncan and the Ancient One stepped out of the magical formation protecting Earth, forcing Dormammu back into the Dark Dimension step by step.
Dormammu was indeed powerful, but his strength stemmed from being the most elite sorcerer of the Faltine race and attaining his peak status after mastering the Dark Dimension.
Without the Dark Dimension, Dormammu was ultimately just a mighty sorcerer. Perhaps, with his immense accumulation of power over the ages, he was even stronger than the Ancient One without the use of artifacts. But he was far from the omnipotent, universe-gazing entity he was in his complete form.
Golden energy erupted in endless collisions.
Dormammu struck out time and again, only for his efforts to be in vain. Even when he managed to land an effective blow, the Time Stone's glow would flare, rendering the damage meaningless. Time seemed to lose its meaning, leaving only an endless, repetitive battle that continued to drain Dormammu's strength.
Repeatedly, Dormammu attempted to pull Duncan into the Dark Dimension. If he succeeded, he would truly become a cosmic demon god, easily crushing Duncan's resistance, assimilating the Xenomorphs into his domain, and ultimately transforming them into dark creatures.
But Duncan would never allow Dormammu to do as he pleased.
Planets trembled under the intensity of their battle. Some were even knocked off their original orbits, shattering into cosmic dust that dissipated into the void.
At this moment, no one had the luxury to care about the fate of other worlds—their eyes were fixed solely on Earth.
Were it not for Yggdrasil's reinforcement of Midgard's laws, keeping the realm unnaturally resilient, the planets surrounding Earth—including the Sun itself—would have already begun collapsing under the residual shockwaves of Dormammu's assault.
Dormammu glared at Duncan, clad in his heavy armor. He didn't know how much longer Duncan could hold out, but every time he seemed on the verge of collapse, the Time Stone would glow again, restoring his strength just enough to keep fighting.
This made Dormammu increasingly silent.
The Time Stone was in their possession, putting him at a severe disadvantage. Even though he was a demon god unaffected by time, his energy was not infinite.
"Give me the Xenomorphs," Dormammu offered. "I can grant you immortality, craft a body tailored for you, and give you anything you desire."
He wove mental magic into his words, each syllable infiltrating Duncan's mind, attempting to corrode his consciousness and reshape him in Dormammu's image.
Dormammu sought to turn Duncan into his own.
"What good is following the Ancient One?" Dormammu continued. "Do you really want to be just another mortal, doomed to die in a few decades or centuries? Whatever she can give you, I can give you more. And whatever she cannot, I still can!
"The way you project your consciousness into the Xenomorphs—it's similar to astral projection, but it's still incomplete. With my help, I can perfect this ability for you. Combined with my modified magical Xenomorphs, you could command them to appear anywhere in the universe, even across parallel realities."
It was a tempting vision.
Duncan acknowledged that much as he felt Dormammu's mental magic attempting to disassemble his psyche, breaking him down at both a conscious and spiritual level. Yet, his expression remained unmoved.
At this point in the battle, everyone had begun to realize something: it was a deadlock.
As long as the Ancient One endured, and as long as the Time Stone continued to sustain them, they would never lose. At worst, they would create a time loop, forcing the battle into an endless cycle.
But at the same time, they had no way to truly invade the Dark Dimension and put an end to Dormammu.
"Dormammu," Duncan suddenly spoke, "I think you've misunderstood the reason I joined this battle from the start.
"You think I'm here to prove my worth to you? To present the Xenomorphs as some grand bargaining chip, hoping to sell them at the highest price? Or that I'm demanding a bribe from you in exchange for their potential?
"You couldn't be more wrong."
Duncan suddenly laughed.
Even a demon god—lifeform though he was—was still bound by certain cognitive rules, certain ways of thinking.
"In your eyes, what are Xenomorphs? Just tools you can modify and wield at your convenience? Just a means to invade Earth?" Duncan said. "To me, this battle holds a much greater purpose—it's an introduction. A way to announce myself to the entire universe and launch the Xenomorphs onto the galactic stage."
"One day, every planet will have Xenomorphs. Every battlefield will see my Xenomorph legions.
"The universe's rarest races, its most precious memories, its most secretive abilities—all of them will belong to me. I will unify every gene, every mystery, every marvel, and transform them into a singular, undeniable truth.
"That truth will be Xenomorphs.
"And if you must add another word to that truth—it will be me, Duncan."
Duncan's smile was strangely composed, almost tranquil.
He knew that even with the Ancient One's aid, they couldn't kill Dormammu. The best they could do was beat him into a corner, force him into retreat with heavy losses—send him slinking away like a wounded beast.
And that would be enough.
Xenomorphs are a species born for battle, and only through combat can they continuously acquire new genes, enriching Duncan's gene bank and providing a solid and reliable foundation of power.
Reynolds is a prime example of this, and in the future, many more individuals like him will emerge.
After all, Mr. Blue has always been advancing the plan to establish a Xenomorph gene bank under Duncan's directive.
All genes that can be copied and absorbed by Xenomorphs will ultimately become part of the entire Xenomorph species, ready to be utilized whenever necessary. This is Duncan's goal.
Spreading the presence of Xenomorphs and Duncan's influence across the most chaotic, brutal, and blood-soaked regions of the universe is also part of Duncan's plan.
Stepping forward to confront Dormammu is the most outstanding credential Duncan could add to his personal résumé, earning the attention of the entire universe.
Just look at this battle against Dormammu—he not only survived but also forced Dormammu to retreat. What an extraordinary figure! Shouldn't the lifeforms he has cultivated and promoted be worshipped and revered by all war fanatics?
Xenomorphs must be developed extensively. Xenomorphs are the truth of the universe. Xenomorphs are the future of the world.
Duncan has also considered this: in the infinite multiverse, aside from the rare numbered universes, the vast majority of them ultimately serve as mere backdrops to multiversal events, reduced to nothing more than grains of sand in the clash of gods, silently vanishing.
Since there exist universes of zombies, cancerous mutations, spiders, AI, and symbiotes, then surely, it is only reasonable for the flourishing multiverse to accommodate a Xenomorph universe as well.
With an infinite number of possibilities, not establishing a universe of his own would make it embarrassing for Duncan to introduce himself on a multiversal scale.
In the pursuit of Xenomorph development, Duncan is wholeheartedly dedicated to transcending to higher levels and witnessing greater heights.
"…What a lunatic. A lowly creature consumed by delusions. That day will never come. You and your Xenomorphs—without the support and transformation of a god like me—you are ultimately nothing more than inferior beings. You can't even solve your most basic lifespan issues."
"That's not something you need to concern yourself with. But sooner or later, you will see the future. I just hope you're still alive by then."
Duncan's body was reaching its limit. Even with the Time Stone periodically restoring his state, it could not truly rewind him to the moment before the fusion of his three consciousnesses—such a reversal would create a time loop.
One last time, Duncan launched an all-out assault on Dormammu. As the gateway to his pocket dimension, an immense gathering of stellar energy coalesced within him. In an instant, he radiated a brilliance so intense that it incinerated all darkness within sight.
Empowered by the divine strength of the Destroyer and further reinforced by the Book of Vishanti, which the Ancient One wielded at any cost, Duncan was enveloped in a vast surge of magic.
He transformed into a golden giant capable of holding stars in his hands. Rolling waves of golden energy pulsed from his body, carrying an unyielding determination as he charged forward. In utter silence, a golden fissure was torn across Dormammu's colossal form.
Forced to withdraw, Dormammu—whose massive body had partially emerged from the Dark Dimension—had to retreat further.
At last, the overwhelming black clouds began to disperse slightly. Along with Dormammu's retreat, the massive rift in the Dark Dimension, which threatened to split the entire solar system in two, slowly started to close.
However, Dormammu did not leave empty-handed. Seeking to avoid falling into a time loop, he continued pressing his enormous mass against Earth, repeatedly battering the magical barriers.
"He took about a few hundred Xenomorphs," the Ancient One informed Duncan.
"Yes, I noticed. Since he couldn't take me, he had to settle for ordinary Xenomorphs, hoping to gain something from them." Duncan nodded slightly.
The Ancient One cautioned, "He and I are both sorcerers, and our minds share similarities. If I'm not mistaken, he will attempt to use dark magic to reverse-engineer your biology from the ground up, ultimately deciphering your origins and brainwashing you."
"Brainwashing? I like that word."
Duncan slowly dissipated the golden energy that weighed heavily on him. In the night sky, countless stars shimmered, as if the entire solar system and Yggdrasil itself were celebrating his victory—rejoicing in the banishment of darkness and the return of light.
But that was an illusion.
Duncan pointed to his head. As his consciousness prepared to leave Reynolds' body and return to his true form, he remarked, "I have many qualities, but the greatest of them all is my mind. Dormammu tried to invade it, but he quickly backed off. Who knows? In the end, perhaps it's not me who will be brainwashed, but him."