Chapter 36

The rough texture of rubble pressed against her back. She took a deep breath, and pain stabbed through her lungs.

In the plaza of another block, civilians had been driven to **.

Several devices emitting a low hum had been set up, blue-white arcs crackling between their electrodes.

The alien soldiers standing guard turned their heads, seemingly waiting for orders.

Just as the electrodes were about to finish charging, a round shield came spinning through the air and struck the lead operator with perfect accuracy.

The dull thud of metal hitting bone alerted every soldier.

A figure leaped out from behind a broken wall to the side, caught the rebounding shield, and stood between the terrified civilians and those killing machines.

The weapons in the Chitauri soldiers' hands flew from their grasp.

Before the sound of metal striking the ground had faded, the figure had already lunged forward.

His fist tore through the air with a dull roar as it smashed toward the enemy's skull.

The information transmission device burst with sparks behind the fallen soldier's body.

Another soldier's throat was locked in the grip of an arm like an iron band.

Those modified bodies were indeed tougher than flesh and blood, but their cervical vertebrae still gave a sharp crack under unbearable strain.

When the sensation of breaking traveled back through his arm, he let go.

The instant that body was hurled away, a third soldier clamped down on his shoulder from behind.

Straight ahead, a gun barrel had already risen.

He drove an elbow backward, turning the Chitauri behind him into a shield.

The scorching sensation of an energy beam piercing through the body singed the fabric on his back.

The gunman threw over some sort of humming device.

The blast wave from the exploding blue light sent him flying.

His back slammed into a car roof, the ** of denting metal mingling with the dull impact of bone.

He tasted rust on his tongue. Wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, he rose without the slightest hesitation.

He had tasted this feeling far too many times.

He began moving toward the red-haired woman.

A golden-red arc streaked across the sky.

Several aircraft shattered into pieces amid **. "Energy reserves below fifty percent."

A mechanical voice sounded inside the helmet.

"Got it."

His reply was brief.

The glow of his repulsors no longer flashed as frequently, replaced by trickier flight paths.

The aircraft pursuing him were lured toward the corners between buildings, unable even to turn before crashing.

The mechanically controlled aircraft high in the sky always seemed clumsy and slow when turning.

That gave him an opening.

However—

The commander aboard the Chitauri mothership was no fool.

Before long.

The aircraft hounding him became fewer.

Tony Stark's efficiency at eliminating enemies visibly declined.

On a rooftop, Hawkeye drew his bowstring again and again.

Arrows carrying different functions tore through the air one after another.

Every twang of the bowstring meant an aircraft had fallen.

But.

Some Chitauri soldiers had also discovered his position and were climbing up the outer wall.

A faint soreness began spreading through his arm muscles.

It was the mark left by repeatedly drawing the bow.

But he raised his head toward the sky—where black shadows still crowded the air—and gritted his teeth as he nocked another arrow.

Though the Avengers gave it everything they had.

The Portal in the sky continued pouring out an endless army.

Their stamina was being drained away bit by bit.

The defensive line had no choice but to pull back.

The pressure seemed to ease slightly.

But it was only a temporary reprieve.

If they did not close that door, the enemy tide would never stop.

The problem was—

Under such relentless interference.

They had no chance at all to get close to the Portal.

Not to mention.

The energy supplied by the Tesseract.

Made that door indestructible.

At that moment.

Several figures tumbled out of a suddenly blooming golden ring and fell into the chaotic battlefield.

On the street beside Stark Tower, several people in robes stood frozen in place.

They came from Kamar-Taj, apprentices who had followed their mentor, Kamidar, here to provide support.

Their original mission had not been to fight, but to treat the wounded and transport supplies—a logistics team.

Kamidar had indeed been a battle mage in his younger years, but he had later suffered severe injuries on the battlefield, and his strength had declined greatly. That was why he had remained at Kamar-Taj to teach students.

This time, because the front lines were desperately short on manpower, he had been temporarily assigned to lead this logistics team to New York.

"Master,"

a young apprentice said in a lowered voice, "it seems... we didn't enter the Mirror Dimension."

Kamidar had already noticed.

He looked up and saw Chitauri aircraft streaking through the sky, their metal shells reflecting the blinding sunlight.

It had been too long since he had used a teleportation spell. Even the flow of magic between his fingers had grown rusty—the coordinates had originally been set for the New York Sanctum, but had deviated to this street.

Unless one was a **master-level existence, an ordinary mage simply could not directly enter a Mirror Dimension battlefield jointly maintained by multiple **masters.

They should have entered through the Sanctum's relay point.

But he had made a mistake.

Cold air slipped into his sleeves as Kamidar tightened his grip on the artifact in his hand.

Memories of fighting on the battlefield all those years ago suddenly surged back, aching faintly like old wounds.

"Prepare to engage."

His voice was steadier than expected. "The New York Sanctum isn't far from here. We can make it there."

But the apprentices behind him began to panic.

Most of these young people had chosen to specialize in healing and protection. Their combat training was only barely adequate, and they had almost no real combat experience.

Someone took half a step back, the artifact in their trembling hand giving off a faint hum.

"But, Master... we don't know how to fight."

A girl's voice trembled on the verge of tears.

Kamidar heard someone call his name from behind.

The edge of the shield carried a burnt smell, its metal surface reflecting shattered storefront windows on both sides of the street.

There were no pedestrians, no vehicles—only the hum of some machinery pressing down from overhead.

The knuckles gripping the shield's handle had turned pale.

"Don't speak."

His voice was drier than he had expected. "There is no road left but forward."

The young people following diagonally behind him all held their breath.

The shields in their hands were not raised high, their edges trembling slightly.

One person's knees were shaking, fabric rustling softly as it rubbed together.

He saw them—the figures emerging from the shadows at the street corner.

They were not human. Their joints bent the wrong way, and they moved with the screech of metal scraping across the ground.

There were many of them.

So many that the corners of his eyes could only catch approaching silhouettes upon silhouettes.

The first beam grazed past his ear, scorching air sweeping across his skin.

He spun, angling his shield outward and deflecting the second and third blinding streaks to either side.

The sound of glass shattering rose one after another.

His breathing began to grow heavy.

Every block left his arm numb.

He stole a glance behind him: those young people were huddled behind their respective shields, beams striking metal and scattering blinding sparks.

They were only holding on. They had no strength left to strike back.

Enough.

He stepped half a pace forward and slammed his shield heavily onto the ground. "Run."

The word was forced through clenched teeth. "Now, run toward the Sanctum.

Don't look back."

A brief silence fell.

Only those inhuman footsteps drew closer.

"Master—"

"Go!"

He let out a low roar, his gaze fixed firmly on the first three shadows approaching from ahead.

He raised his shield again and held it across his body.

Kamidar raised a hand to stop the young apprentice who wanted to speak.

"Do as he says."

There was no room for discussion in his voice.

Ahead, the Chitauri warriors were closing their encirclement.

Kamidar's face was drawn tight, the lines of bone beneath his skin clearly visible.

He had lived long enough that, at this moment, his only clear thought was to tear open a path to survival for the young faces behind him.

A low metallic hum vibrated in his palm as a round shield condensed into solid form.

He hunched his back, his muscles about to unleash their last strength—

Vishanti's Sacred Sword.

Another voice cut in, clear and crisp like breaking icicles.

Then Kamidar caught only a blurred shadow sweeping past from the flank, so fast it tugged at the air.

Then the alien bodies surrounding them were all severed cleanly in two, the cuts unnaturally smooth.

The young people behind him stared with their mouths open, even their breathing stopping.

"This kind of power..."

"It's a **master! A **master must have come!"

"No... can a **master do something like that?"

"It's the Sorcerer Supreme! The Sorcerer Supreme came to save us!"

"Idiot! The Sorcerer Supreme is a woman!"

Excited cries erupted.

But Kamidar frowned—that voice seemed familiar somehow.

Sure enough, in the next moment, Zhao Yu was standing before him.

Only, the young man's expression was somewhat strange, as though he had bitten into something unexpected.

"Ding."

A notification only he could hear sounded deep within his mind.

"Your Vishanti's Sacred Sword has completed a public demonstration."

"Your proficiency with Vishanti's Sacred Sword has increased."

So that was it.

Only now did Zhao Yu truly understand what this magic called the "Sacred Sword" really meant.

His appearance stirred up another commotion among the apprentices behind him.

"It's Zhao Yu! That genius from Kamar-Taj!"

"He's actually this strong... Even a **master probably..."

"**masters are no match for him!"

Zhao Yu felt the tips of his ears grow hot.

He cleared his throat. His voice was not loud, yet it silenced everyone.

"Don't misunderstand."

He said, "I'm just an ordinary mage."

Several apprentice mages stared at the ground, their faces full of doubt.

Could that thing count as an ordinary mage? Who was he trying to fool?

Zhao Yu cleared his throat and looked away.

When he had arrived at the battlefield with Mordo earlier, he had not found Kamidar, who should have been there to provide support.

A sense of foreboding seized him instantly.

The rift in the Mirror Dimension that had been torn open with bare hands had allowed him to barely make it in time—just in time to witness this scene.

"Master."

His voice carried a trace of helplessness. "Can't we use Kamar-Taj's passageways? Do we really have to open a Portal?"

"The line was too long."

Kamidar rubbed the tip of his nose.

Having his disciple come to save the day was indeed rather embarrassing.

But what surged more strongly in his heart was pride.

Did you see that? A figure like him—I was the one who trained him.

"Come with me. We're going to the New York Sanctum."

Zhao Yu said no more.

Kamidar had treated him well, and he could not bring himself to forget that kindness.

What would that make him, if not a beast?

"Thank you, Senior Brother!"

The young men behind him hurriedly thanked him.

Clearly, the power Zhao Yu had displayed had already won them over.

Even if he was still nominally an apprentice, he was already a top figure in their eyes.

"No need to be so polite."

Zhao Yu nodded and led the way forward.

Along the ruined streets, Chitauri soldiers kept pouring in.

Zhao Yu merely raised a hand and sent out chains formed from magic—the most basic spell, yet in his hands it erupted with terrifying power.

No enemy could withstand a single blow.

Wherever the chains swept through, bodies shattered apart.

Exclamations of amazement rose one after another behind him.

"He's practically our lucky charm."

"Mage Zhao Yu... he's truly a once-in-a-century talent."

Zhao Yu merely tugged at the corner of his mouth and said nothing.

Being too conspicuous had never been a good thing. He understood that better than anyone.

The scene on the streets was utter chaos.

Chitauri soldiers' remains were scattered everywhere, some still giving off a pungent, scorched stench.

Zhao Yu walked at the very front. His movements were so simple they bordered on ruthless; every wave of his hand or casual repositioning precisely stripped the charging alien soldiers of their ability to fight.

Kamidar and several other robed mages followed close behind. Orange sparks danced at their fingertips as they formed temporary barriers or tripped up enemies, clearing the way for the main force.

Their route led straight toward the New York Sanctum.

This area lay close to the towering Stark Tower, making it the central vortex where the invaders were most densely gathered.

** sounds, the clash of metal, and the sharp hum of some kind of energy weapon blended together, surging in from all directions.

The Avengers were fighting desperately amid the chaos, trying to hold the line.

Before they had gone far, an especially fierce bout of fighting caught their attention.

Past several overturned, burning cars, they could see a figure surrounded by dozens of Chitauri soldiers.

Those soldiers wore dark armor and wielded bizarre-looking melee weapons. Like hyenas that had spotted prey, they lunged again and again.