Chapter 319

After about fifteen minutes, the silence of the dark, still forest was broken by Strange's phone ringing.

He picked up the phone, pressed the answer key, and held it to his ear; a pleasant voice from the Sanctum Sanctorum customer service replied: "The communication from the Lord of Hell, Mephisto, will be connected in thirty seconds. During this time, we will play a waiting tone—please wait patiently…"

After several seconds of pleasant music, the phone suddenly shot out of Strange's hand, its keypad transforming into a wide mouth full of sharp teeth; Mephisto's voice emerged from it: "Say, Strange, where did you even find this symbol?"

His teasing tone left Strange baffled. "What's wrong? What is this symbol?"

"You don't know? It's the sigil of Hela, the Mistress of the Underworld—the crazy woman who spends her days playing with skulls and souls. Have you seen any suddenly reanimated skeletons or corpses around this symbol? If so, it's definitely her…"

"Yes, and not just one or two. A nearby cemetery has been haunted for several days straight."

"Then it's confirmed. Hela's signature trick is her undead army. Her death attribute stems from the backside of Yggdrasil, making it the direct opposite of life—beyond death, there is also resurrection…"

"But why would Hela appear on Earth?"

"How should I know? But since you gave me a good discount before, I'll warn you—this woman is a nuisance. Wherever she appears, her omnipresent forces of death and resurrection corrupt vast stretches of land, spawning all kinds of troublesome creatures. If you don't want your territory turned into a skeleton dance hall, you'd better figure something out…"

After hanging up, Strange frowned, staring at the symbol. Sheerler patted his shoulder. "Let's leave first. If Hela really has descended, do you have a way to deal with her?"

"No…" Strange shook his head. "I'm worried she'll descend. If she does, I can't leave—because only I can handle these troublesome demonic gods."

After gaining a comfortable life, Strange seemed to have reclaimed some sense of duty. He stared at the symbol on the ground, thinking of ways to counter Hela.

Sheerler continued: "This won't be as simple as you think. No matter what, the Mistress of the Underworld has no reason to appear on Earth—especially here…"

"If she wanted to invade Earth, she wouldn't just leave a single mark here. Just now, Mephisto said that if she truly intended to act, she'd have already flooded this place with her undead army. New York has hundreds of cemeteries—plenty for her to use."

"True." Strange's expression grew confused.

"I know how these cosmic demonic gods operate. When they fight, they don't behave like humans—no warnings, no negotiations, no posturing. They strike with lethal intent from the start."

"If Hela wanted to invade Earth, she wouldn't waste time leaving a symbol here. Everyone knows a lightning strike is the fastest way to victory. Her actions feel more like provoking a reaction."

"I get the feeling she's being sneaky," Sheerler said, staring at the symbol. "Like she's deliberately suppressing her power, trying not to be noticed—but her demonic energy is too immense, so it's leaking out, causing supernatural disturbances."

As the two continued speculating, Strange's phone rang again. The sudden ring startled him. He pulled out the phone—only for it to fly into the air again, the familiar mouth reappearing, Mephisto's voice echoing in his ear: "Stephen, let's make a deal. If you give me a quarterly membership to your Sanctum, I'll give you more clues. How about it?"

Strange cursed under his breath. Mephisto, that cunning old fox, had deliberately withheld the full truth earlier, emphasized Hela's threat, stoked his curiosity, left him with unanswered questions—and now he was playing the savior, all to extract more concessions.

"I can only give you one month. You know, I don't own the place—there are shares held by the Sorcerer Supreme and the Allfather. Too many gifts, and I can't explain it to the others…"

"Fine. One month then."

Mephisto was just grabbing an easy advantage. A wisp of black mist spread from the phone, forming his upper body. He snapped his fingers; a tendril of black smoke drifted toward the symbol. He explained to the two behind him:

"Generally, when a demonic god leaves a sigil somewhere, it's to transmit a message. For example, I left my own sigil inside your phone—so I can call you anytime."

"Of course, your magical broadcast system is impressive. When you finish it, don't forget to let me plant a sigil near the magical array—it'll improve the signal a lot."

"So what does Hela's sigil mean?"

"Wait, I'm decoding it. You know, women always add too many unnecessary decorations to their things. Hela's sigil is no different—she carved so many complex patterns, but only a tiny fraction are actually functional…"

"…Alright, got it. Hmm?" Mephisto hummed in confusion, then said: "Hela is looking for someone."

"Looking for someone? …Who? There's no one on Earth connected to her, right?"

"She didn't leave a name. Just said it's a girl with long black hair… Wait, there's more: If found, please call the Sanctum Sanctorum to contact her…"

"Strange, you're famous," Mephisto teased, turning to him.

Strange spread his hands. "Fine. Looks like another lost-pet case. Doesn't matter who she's looking for—this symbol's already caused us trouble. How do we erase her?"

"If you're willing to give me another month…"

"No need. We'll handle it ourselves. Goodbye." Strange hurled his Crimson Bands, yanking his phone back, then pressed end. Mephisto's image vanished instantly.

A moment later, the phone rang again. Mephisto said: "I can clear all the residual energy here—but you must give me an exclusive line. I'll be busy for the next twenty thousand years…"

"An exclusive line is impossible. But I can add you another call thread. Our premium customer service is limited—you should know that…"

"Fine. Then one more thread."

Mephisto's figure emerged again from the phone. He snapped his fingers. Instantly, countless black energies surged from the symbol and its surroundings into his body. All traces vanished. After Mephisto disappeared, Sheerler said: "Looks like you got scammed again."

Strange's face darkened. Anyone with eyes could see Mephisto had been absorbing power. The cunning devil had not only stolen a portion of Hela's residual energy but also tricked Strange into granting him an extra customer service thread.

"I'll give you a tip: Route all Mephisto calls straight to Nick. Even if it doesn't earn you anything, at least it won't cost you."

Strange glanced at Sheerler. "What's your phone number? If every unknown call gets forwarded to you, Earth will become a cosmic holy site."

"Alright, the residual energy issue is resolved. Now we need to figure out who Hela is looking for."

"It's definitely not an ordinary person. Neither Hell nor the Underworld is a place for mortals. She's probably searching for another cosmic demonic god." Strange opened a portal as he spoke. "Good news: the supernatural disturbance is gone. Bad news: another demonic god might already be hiding somewhere on Earth."

Sheerler stepped through the portal with Strange. "Just don't let Nick find out—his blood pressure will spike again."

Back in the Arkham Sanitarium room, Strange reached for his phone again. Sheerler asked: "What are you doing?"

"I'm calling the Sanctum Sanctorum to ask which known demonic gods match the description of a black-haired girl. That way, if this god causes trouble, we can stop her in time."

"I advise against it. You might offend Hela. Haven't you noticed? She left that symbol in secret—maybe she wants you to quietly help her find someone?"

Strange sat on the sofa, rubbing his face. "She has no reason to be secretive. Who could threaten her? …Wait—there is one. Could Hela be afraid of Ancient One? But the Sorcerer Supreme shouldn't have authority over her Underworld…"

"Don't forget: besides Ancient One, there's Odin among the Nine Realms. Not just Odin—Thor has reclaimed his power and even made progress. But more likely, the person Hela seeks has a special identity…"

"Back to square one—who is she?" Strange rested his elbows on the sofa arm and pressed his palm to his forehead.

At that moment, Sheerler's phone rang. Strange turned to him. Sheerler picked it up: "Hello? Peter? …What's wrong? How's it going there? The skeletons suddenly lost all power and turned into mere bone frames? That's good."

"The great heir to the Sorcerer Supreme, Strange, made a deal with a demon—so the Lord of Hell, Mephisto, helped us resolve the issue. But now we've got an even bigger problem…"

As Sheerler spoke, a loud crash echoed from Peter's end, followed by chaotic noise. Sheerler heard Peter launch into the air, then the sharp *thwip-thwip* of webbing.

After a series of *thump, clatter, bang*, Peter's shout and a woman's scream sounded simultaneously. Seconds later, Steve's voice came from afar: "Peter, you okay?"

"I'm fine…" Peter lay on the ground, pinned beneath a woman in a black robe—or rather, a girl.

Steve stood several meters away, not approaching, instead assuming a defensive stance. He asked the girl: "Who are you? Why did you suddenly fall from the sky—and…"

Steve glanced around. The ground was littered with bone frames. He looked back at the girl. "…And why are there so many skeletons around you?"

The girl in the black robe stood up. Peter finally scrambled to his feet, brushing grass off his clothes. He turned to look beside him—and saw a pale, slender hand emerge from beneath the robe, lifting the hood.

Sheerler heard over the phone: "Whatthefu…"

"…language!"

————EXTRA NOTES————

"Language" means "language"—referring to Captain America's habit of saying "Language!" whenever someone swears (meaning: Watch your language!).