Marvel : I'm in Westview Town-Chapter 185

Boom!!!

Explosions echoed across the sky without warning, turning the heavens a blood-red hue in an instant. The sheer force of the detonation radiated terror and dread so immense that even the fabric of space itself trembled violently. Energy surged in frenzied waves, erupting outward in all directions, unbidden and unstoppable.

The sword energy Finn had unleashed moments before now tore through the barriers of time and space. Its brilliance, blinding and unforgiving, surged across the Realm of the Gods, flashing like a divine judgment. In the wake of that light, the surroundings shattered—trees torn asunder, mountains crumbling, and the skies themselves cracking with thunderous force.

The already weakened earth beneath them gave way completely under the weight of the blast. In every direction, craters formed as the impact expanded, fracturing the terrain like glass under a hammer. There was no resistance. No time. No escape.

Demons scattered in all directions, but none were spared. Finn's power chased them relentlessly, and within seconds, their bodies disintegrated into nothingness—bubbles of ash, evaporated as though they had never existed. No cry for mercy. No time to retaliate.

The devastation was total.

Their numbers had never been great to begin with—not the elite, at least—and now, with the sudden force that had fallen upon them, they were simply overrun, too weak to flee, too insignificant to survive.

"Great job, Finn!!"

Not far away, Brice—second in command of the Angel Faction—watched the carnage unfold with exhilarated awe. His eyes sparkled with adrenaline and admiration. Finn's strength had surged again, visibly stronger than even a few days ago. If he kept this up, Brice thought, the demon horde wouldn't last much longer.

He clenched his fists tightly.

A fire ignited in his chest.

He was ready to fight.

"Stop talking nonsense and deal with the rest of them!" Finn snapped, his voice sharp and cold.

He was not celebrating. He knew this was far from over. That sword strike, devastating as it was, hadn't wiped out all the enemies. There were still more emerging. Too many.

If they didn't act fast, the tide could turn again. He could feel it—this war wasn't just about force. It was about time.

"Okay, I get it." Brice's grin faded, replaced with steely resolve. He gave a firm nod and turned to the battalion of celestial warriors behind him—glorious winged beings who stood ready.

"Move out! Hunt them down! Leave no one alive!"

The Angels, led by Brice, launched forward. Like radiant comets streaking across the battlefield, they spread in all directions to engage the remnants of the demon legion. Brice understood now—this wasn't just another battle. This was a reckoning.

Boom!!

Explosions continued to ripple across the realm as the angelic warriors unleashed holy magic and blade alike. Screams of dying demons echoed briefly before being drowned out by sword and flame. It was war—unfiltered, chaotic, divine.

Finn didn't stop to reflect. He launched himself forward again, cloak of energy trailing behind him like a comet's tail. His blade—the Severance Fang, forged by Eitri in Nidavellir with the remains of a fallen Celestial—cut down swaths of demons as he moved.

Each slash brought judgment.

Each swing, a final sentence.

The demons tried to flee, but under Finn's eyes, they had nowhere to go. His vision—blessed and cursed by the Watchers—saw through all illusions, all escape routes. To run from him was to die tired.

He was the end of their story.

Pssst!!!

With every quake of the earth, with every gust of tainted wind, more and more demons collapsed, lifeless. They fell where they stood, no second chance, no bargaining. The ground was slick with ichor, black and red, and the air reeked of sulfur and rot.

Minutes passed like lifetimes.

Soon, the battlefield looked like something pulled straight from a nightmare—piles of corpses, broken weapons, severed wings. It was purgatory in the flesh. A hell on earth.

The battlefield had turned into a blood-soaked canvas.

"The smell is really disgusting," Wanda muttered.

But this wasn't the Wanda Maximoff the Avengers knew. This was the Dark Witch—a corrupted version twisted by the forces of Limbo and Mephisto's manipulation. Her crimson eyes flicked to the fallen with contempt, and with a lazy flick of her hand, darkness surged.

Thick, oily black mist spewed from her fingers, swirling through the battlefield. The bodies and foul stench vanished in moments, consumed by eldritch fire that left nothing behind—not even ashes.

She turned her head slightly. "Let me do it."

Finn, expression unreadable, gave a small nod. His blade disappeared into the ether.

Then he turned to Brice.

"What the hell is going on?"

Finn's voice was low, tense.

The last time they'd fought things, they were told the demon threat had been extinguished for at least a generation. So how the hell were they here again? In numbers like this?

Brice exhaled heavily. "Let's talk back at the main hall. It's... complicated."

Finn studied him for a second. He didn't like it, but he knew Brice well enough to trust that tone. It meant this wasn't just a rogue cell or leftover stragglers. This meant war.

"Alright. The threat's handled here anyway. Let's go."

The remaining angels formed ranks. The sky, once full of light and horror, now settled into eerie calm. But no one relaxed.

They all knew better.

Soon after, they returned to the high sanctum of the Angel Faction—an ornate chamber carved into the mountaintop, woven with light-forged runes and protected by reality-bending shields constructed by Doctor Strange himself in a rare interdimensional treaty.

As Finn stepped through the threshold, he spotted the old patriarch—leader of the Angel Faction—waiting inside. The man, usually poised and radiant, now wore a heavy expression.

The hall was silent. Too silent.

When the patriarch saw Finn, he rose from the throne and walked forward.

"Finn, once again, you've saved our people. I owe you more than I can ever repay."

Finn shook his head. "Cut the thanks. Tell me what's going on."

The patriarch's shoulders sagged. He glanced at Brice, then back to Finn.

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