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The mont Danny, the Angel of Death, set foot in the Flint Monastery and his awakening triggered the foundational resonance of the Hell Dinsion, phisto knew.
But phisto hadn't been idling since Hawk delivered the intel about the November 11th awakening. He had already packed up his operations behind Pluto and was moving his realm toward Earth.
By the ti Hawk launched his assault on Heaven, phisto was already passing Mars.
And then—
He watched as Hawk, like so cosmic Superman, blasted a hole straight through the barrier of the Heaven Dinsion.
phisto was stunned.
He's going in alone? Right into Yahweh's stronghold?
Hiss!
My brother.
My blood brother. To think he would go to such lengths for !
The thought sent a shiver down phisto's spine, a tingling sensation that shot straight to his scalp. He suddenly rembered his own past attempts to screw Hawk over. Even for a demon entirely lacking in sha, the mory made his face burn with a rare, uncomfortable heat.
Don't worry, brother. I'll never double-cross you again.
Just watch.
phisto took a deep breath and let out a thundering roar. The mont the Hell Dinsion aligned with Heaven, he led his amassed demonic army, charging through the breach Hawk had created, ready to back up his brother in arms.
And then…
He froze. A single thought echoed in his mind.
Where the hell am I?
Is this Heaven? The land flowing with milk and honey?
Look at it!
The sky was falling. The earth was shattered.
Literally.
The sky of the Heaven Dinsion, once a canvas of pure, divine light, was now a jagged web of endless, gaping fissures, bleeding black fire.
The ground looked as if it had been subjected to a magnitude-fifty earthquake.
Towering, majestic mountains had been reduced to rubble.
The pristine rivers were dry, choked with debris.
The floating islands of the Gospels had plumted from the sky, burying themselves like broken swords into the plains below.
Countless, bottomless chasms scarred the landscape. Instead of sweet spring water, they spewed chaotic, unregulated energy and the burning embers of destruction.
The rivers of milk and honey, the groves of the Tree of Life… either buried under collapsed mountains or exposed as twisted, cracked riverbeds.
The exquisitely carved jade staircases were shattered.
The magnificent pavilions and palaces were flattened into vast fields of debris. Black fire raged everywhere, consuming the ruins and sending thick, choking pillars of smoke into the sky.
But what shocked phisto the most were the corpses.
Or rather, the pieces.
Countless charred limbs and shattered bodies were strewn across the dinsion, engulfed in the sa black fire, slowly burning away into ash.
As far as the eye could see, it was nothing but ruin, scorched earth, and the lingering echo of death.
This didn't look like Heaven.
It looked more like Hell than Hell itself.
As for Hawk—
He hovered silently in the sky above the ruined dinsion, his eyes pitch-black and gleaming. Like a cold, ruthless god, he looked down, admiring the apocalyptic battlefield he had single-handedly created.
Just then.
Hawk spotted phisto and his demonic army charging through the breach.
phisto saw Hawk.
Their eyes t.
With a re thought from Hawk, the Black Phoenix Surplice flashed with dark light, seamlessly reassembling itself into its resting form before vanishing, stored safely within the sanctuary of his Underworld.
Gulp.
phisto pulled his gaze away from the brutal, desolate landscape. He swallowed hard, beat his demonic wings, and rapidly ascended until he was face-to-face with Hawk.
"Those angels..."
"Dead."
"Yahweh..."
"Gone."
"And their souls..."
"Erased."
Hawk answered each question before phisto could even finish asking it.
Suppressing the lingering, fiery urge to fight, Hawk calmly gave phisto a brief rundown of what had happened since he breached the dinsion. He watched phisto's expression grow increasingly blank, and let out a soft laugh. "That old bastard Yahweh actually thought he could trick . Doesn't he know I see right through those cheap parlor tricks? You know that better than anyone, right, old friend?"
phisto flinched, shaking his head rapidly. His expression beca deadly serious as he looked at Hawk. "Brother. No, Godfather. From this day forward, you are my Godfather."
Godfather?
Hawk blinked, his face darkening. He looked at the demon trying to adopt him. "Don't. Just stick with 'brother.' 'Godfather' is taking it a bit too far."
Seriously, phisto...
This guy had absolutely zero bottom line.
Hawk, wanting to nip this in the bud, quickly changed the subject. "By the way, earlier..."
He told phisto about how Yahweh had subtly tried to goad him into looking at his own future, and the intense, threatening malice he had felt radiating from Ti itself when he refused. "I get the feeling Yahweh wasn't just trying to hint that he had already left. He was actively trying to push into looking at my future."
It was true.
Yahweh's implication wasn't just 'I saw the future, so I left early.'
It was also an unspoken reassurance: 'Go ahead, take a peek. It won't hurt.'
Hawk knew sothing was wrong.
And phisto, while bound by the laws of Death, was the oldest ruler of the Death Dinsions in the universe. He had been around the block. He might know sothing.
Sure enough.
After hearing Hawk's story, phisto paused, then looked at him.
"When you collapsed your tiline... you didn't look at your future?"
"No."
Hawk shook his head.
He had wanted to. But he had rembered the Ancient One's warning.
The past cannot be changed.
The future must not be seen.
He also knew the paradox: observing a possible future solidifies it, transforming it into an unavoidable past. He preferred to build his future step by step, with his own two hands.
And after Ti had so nakedly displayed its malice, he had lost any desire to look.
Now—
Ti was practically threatening him, trying to force him to look. It was an obvious trap. He'd have to be brain-dead to fall for it.
But!
He didn't understand why.
Why was Ti acting this way?
phisto clearly knew the answer.
As Hawk finished, a look of profound understanding crossed the demon's face. "No wonder that old bastard Yahweh tried to factor you into his endga."
Hawk raised an eyebrow.
"Want to head back to your tavern? Have a drink and talk about it?"
"Sounds good."
phisto nodded. He looked around at the shattered, apocalyptic remains of the Heaven Dinsion, then back at Hawk. "Wait until you've claid this place?"
Hawk shook his head.
"I don't want it."
"What?"
phisto blinked in surprise. "The Heaven Dinsion was created by Eternity. It grants the wielder the ability to traverse the primary multiverse. And you don't want it?"
Hawk nodded firmly. "Nope. Don't want it."
People who dealt in faith were filthy.
And Yahweh was the filthiest of them all. Sche after sche. If Hawk had been even slightly less vigilant, slightly less calm, he would have fallen right into the old bastard's trap.
So!
Hawk had made up his mind. This ti, he was leaving the loot on the table.
It was too risky. The whole place could be poisoned.
That was why he had obliterated Yahweh's soul, and why he had refused to claim the millions of angelic souls, erasing them instead. He wasn't going to leave a single hidden danger behind.
In short:
He was past the reckless, rapid-expansion phase of his empire-building.
Now, he was in the consolidation and governance phase.
Everyone knows the rule.
When you're conquering, reckless growth is fine; everything is about getting stronger.
But when you're ruling, fists aren't enough. You need brains.
S.H.I.E.L.D. was a perfect, cautionary tale.
He wasn't going to let one rotten apple—the Heaven Dinsion—spoil his entire cosmic barrel.
So…
Even knowing that absorbing the dinsion would increase his power, Hawk chose stability.
Just as he had ruthlessly abandoned the Blood God Dinsion when he discovered Yahweh had set up shop there.
Stability.
That was his priority right now.
Besides.
A boost in raw power would be helpful, but not ga-changing.
It was just a quantitative increase.
What Hawk needed was a qualitative leap.
He needed the Eighth Sense. The power to fully manifest his Mind-Phoenix-Reality-Gold Universe into the physical world.
That was the true prize.
Hawk looked at phisto's gaping mouth and laughed.
"If you want it, take it."
"Really?"
phisto's eyes lit up. He stared at Hawk. "This thing gives you access to the entire primary multiverse. You're sure you don't want it?"
The Heaven Dinsion was a massive prize. If he absorbed it, he—the great phisto, Lord of Hell—could finally expand his conquests to living planets across the multiverse. He would no longer be confined to the primary universe.
Hawk smirked. "I said I don't want it. But aren't you worried that taking it might draw the attention of the Celestials?"
That was another reason he had passed on it.
Claiming the Heaven Dinsion not only carried the risk of hidden traps, but it could also put him on the radar of the Celestials, or even Eternity himself.
He felt confident he could handle the Celestials now.
But…
Better safe than sorry.
phisto let out a sly, raspy chuckle. He looked at Hawk. "My dear brother. Yahweh had backers. But your little brother has backers, too."
Hawk raised an eyebrow.
Right.
Yahweh was backed by the Celestials, who answered to Eternity.
But phisto was backed by Death.
In terms of cosmic hierarchy, phisto's boss was on the exact sa level as the Celestials' boss.
Hawk considered this.
As for the whole 'dear brother' and 'little brother' nonsense, he just filtered it out.
"Alright. If you like it, it's yours."
"Excellent."
phisto bead. He looked at Hawk, who had just handed him the biggest piece of cake in the universe. "My good brother has done a massive favor, and now he gives this incredible gift. Your little brother hasn't always been the smartest... but from this day forward, the authority over life and death on Earth belongs entirely to you."
Hiss.
Hawk drew in a sharp breath. He stared at phisto, who was patting his chest and solemnly promising to hand over the absolute authority of Earth's afterlife.
"Are you serious?"
"Absolutely!"
phisto gave a heavy, emphatic nod.
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