The Dark Dimension trembled.
Dormammu, ancient lord of chaos and flame, sat upon his throne of molten black stone, surrounded by a swirling maelstrom of broken time and corrupted souls. He watched as the ripples in the multiverse grew deeper, wider—evidence that something far greater than mere mortal conflict was brewing.
The One Above All had descended.
And the Scarlet King had stood before Him.
Dormammu narrowed his burning eyes, the fire within them flaring with curiosity—and concern. The Scarlet King was no mere interloper, no second-rate conqueror grasping at power. He was something Dormammu had only heard of in forgotten whispers from the dying stars. A being of balance, reborn from madness. A force that sought not destruction for chaos' sake, but for renewal.
"This... changes everything," Dormammu murmured.
He raised a clawed hand, and space bent at his command. Portals opened around his throne, summoning echoes of dread power.
Nightmare stepped forth from a mist of living fear, his eyes slitted and smiling. Mephisto emerged from a blaze of hellfire, smug as ever, though even he looked uneasy. An avatar of Shuma-Gorath, all tentacles and shrieking madness, coalesced from a dimension of screaming fractals.
Dormammu spoke without preamble.
"He has returned. The King of Red."
Nightmare sneered. "A myth."
Mephisto hissed, "No myth stands before the One Above All and lives."
The Shuma-Gorath avatar pulsed once. Agreement.
Dormammu rose. "He seeks balance. That means disruption. He awakens forces beyond our reach. He has found avatars. Doom. Emma Frost. Soon others."
"So we strike first?" Mephisto asked.
Dormammu shook his head. "No. We adapt."
The room fell silent.
"I propose an alliance."
Nightmare laughed. "You? Ally with another?"
"Only a fool fights a god alone," Dormammu growled. "And I am no fool."
---
Moments later, the flames of his throne dimmed. Dormammu stepped through a rift of twisting glass and shadow, heading toward a realm he had once tried—and failed—to claim: Limbo.
There, the mutant queen Illyana Rasputina—Magik—ruled.
Limbo's twisted sky swirled with lavender storms and floating landmasses of bone and ash. Dormammu's presence warped everything as he arrived, his feet never touching the ground.
Illyana appeared before him in full armor, Soulsword glowing. "If you're here to threaten, make it quick."
Dormammu gave a low chuckle. "I'm here to talk."
She eyed him suspiciously. "And pigs fly."
"You've felt it," he said. "The shift in power. The disturbance in the planes. The Scarlet King walks again."
Illyana's expression hardened. "He's real, then."
"Very. And growing stronger."
"Why come to me?"
"Because you rule a crossroads of power, and I need neutral ground."
She tilted her head. "For what?"
"To negotiate an alliance."
Illyana scoffed. "You? Begging peace?"
"Strategic unity," Dormammu corrected. "Against a being that might rewrite the very laws we exist by."
She considered. "I won't ally. But I'll host your meeting—on my terms."
Dormammu bowed slightly. "Accepted."
---
In the core of the Dark Dimension, Dormammu returned and stared into the Heartfire—a flame of eternal knowledge. There he saw visions: the Scarlet King walking in Antarctica, surrounded by his court. Doom and Frost as his hands. Wanda and Phoenix as his fire. Death and Hela as his edge.
He whispered to the flame, "I will not be overshadowed."
He reached back into the folds of time and memory, remembering when he challenged the Vishanti, how he broke free from linear existence, how he devoured lesser gods. He had stood alone for eons. Now, he stood on the brink of irrelevance.
"If I cannot destroy him... I will control him."
He conjured a piece of himself, shaped it into a messenger—an elemental cloaked in ethereal fire and darkness. Its voice carried his will. Its presence reeked of old power.
"Take this message to Antarctica," he commanded. "Find the King. Speak only what I have burned into your being."
The envoy vanished.
---
In Antarctica, the winds howled.
Deep beneath the ice, in a palace grown from obsidian and cosmic stone, the Scarlet King stood upon a balcony. Doom and Emma Frost flanked him. Wanda and Jean meditated nearby. Death spoke with Hela in hushed tones.
The envoy arrived in silence, fire trailing behind it. The court tensed.
Doom raised a gauntlet. "Shall I eliminate it?"
"No," the King said. "Let it speak."
The envoy bowed, and its voice rang out like distant thunder.
"Dormammu, Lord of the Dark Dimension, sends greetings. He acknowledges your return, your power, and your purpose. He offers a meeting—a convergence of sovereigns, to speak not as foes, but as forces."
Silence followed.
Emma's eyes narrowed. "A trap?"
"Certainly," Doom muttered.
Wanda looked to the King. "What will you do?"
The Scarlet King's voice was quiet but firm. "Tell him this: I do not bow. But I will listen."
The envoy nodded and vanished.
---
Across the stars, dark forces stirred. And in Limbo, the table was set.
Two titans were about to meet.
Not as enemies.
Not yet.
But as gods preparing for the end of everything.