Marvel: The Awakened One Chapter 57: [161] - Mephisto Never Tells The Truth

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Hawk's tone was ice-cold.

phisto froze, his mind practically short-circuiting. He seriously wondered if getting his horn knocked off had damaged his hearing.

"I said, take your sister's soul and get the hell out of my Hell."

"And I said—that's not enough anymore."

Hawk hovered in the air, his gaze locked with phisto's.

"I gave you two chances."

"The first ti, I told you—resurrect my sister, and you'll have three favors from ."

"My first offer is always the best one."

"But you didn't take it."

"Then I ca here, and I gave you a second chance."

"The San Venganza Contract for my sister's soul. I have no interest in your Hell."

"And you refused that too."

"Now we're on attempt number three."

"So here it is—"

"Hand over my sister's soul. And from now on, your Hell will no longer have claim over any soul connected to . Anyone who praises my na enters my Underworld!"

Hawk stared at phisto, his face expressionless beneath the visor. "That's my new offer. Accept it or refuse it—your call. But if you try to call for another tiout, I won't just be asking for souls connected to anymore."

As long as he didn't accept the blackmail, no one could blackmail him.

Having already prepared himself for the worst-case scenario—that phisto might actually destroy Anya's soul—Hawk was now terrifyingly unyielding.

Even if phisto did burn her soul, it wasn't as if she'd be gone forever.

There was still the Soul Stone, after all.

Worst case, he'd leave Hell, track down the family planning director Thanos, let Thanos retrieve the Soul Stone, then trade the Reality Stone for it and use the Soul Stone to resurrect his sister's soul.

Problem solved.

Not a big deal!

But—

Since phisto was opening negotiations again, fine. They'd negotiate.

Three strikes and you're out.

This was the last ti.

He'd already braced himself for the worst outco.

phisto listened to Hawk's third and final offer, his expression darkening until it looked like ink might drip from his face.

If he could go back in ti, he swore he would accept Hawk's terms without hesitation—right there in the bar.

If he'd agreed back then, would things have gotten this bad?

Keep fighting?

This was his ho turf. Even if Hawk wrecked the place, Hawk could just dust off his hands and leave. anwhile, phisto would be left picking up the pieces.

He'd been through this before with Odin and Eternity.

But—

Neither of them had ever threatened him like Hawk just did.

"From now on, I'll do nothing but hunt you. Your Hell will have no souls entering, and no demons leaving."

Where the hell was the leverage in that?

This wasn't a hostage situation.

This was a porcupine—touch it and it explodes.

Just—

phisto's face remained dark as he stared at Hawk. "What do you an by 'praising your na enters your Underworld'? I'm already letting your sister go. Are you seriously going to fight for Earth's souls now?"

Hawk's tone didn't waver. "You started this war. But I'm the one who decides when it ends—and how. My condition is simple. My friends, your Hell has no authority over their souls. Take it or leave it. Up to you."

If he actually cared about building up his Underworld, his third condition wouldn't have been this limited.

After all, he had better things to do than obsess over becoming a God of the Underworld when he could aim for sothing higher.

But letting it go completely? That didn't sit right either. The fire in his chest demanded satisfaction.

Conveniently, this was a good way to prevent phisto from trying this extortion nonsense again in the future. Taking custody of all the souls connected to him was a solid preemptive strike.

phisto's face was a storm cloud.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then we fight."

Hawk's expression remained blank. The San Venganza Contract reappeared in his hand, and he held it up toward phisto. "But like I said—three chances. That's it. After this, there won't be any more negotiations. I'll co after you without rest. Either you find a way to kill , or you sit in your withering Hell and rot away."

phisto's face twisted through a dozen different emotions. His demonic eyes locked onto Hawk, unblinking.

Hawk stared back, his gaze calm and unshaken.

A long silence stretched between them.

Finally—

"Get out!"

phisto tore his gaze away, suppressing the fury burning in his chest. "Take your sister. Get the hell out of my Hell."

Hawk wouldn't compromise.

So phisto had no choice but to.

Simple as that.

He couldn't afford to gamble.

Now that Hawk had his own Underworld, his soul was beyond phisto's reach.

Hawk could afford to burn everything down. He wasn't betting his entire existence on this.

phisto was.

He only had this one dinsion.

For now—

"Get out of my Hell. And don't let see your face again."

"Heh."

Hearing that, Hawk finally allowed himself a small breath of relief—though he kept it internal. His expression didn't change as he let out a dry chuckle. "As long as you don't co looking for trouble, I have zero interest in you."

With that—

CRACK.

The Black Phoenix Surplice shattered, the pieces dissolving into the air before reforming mid-flight into the shape of a phoenix ornant. It twisted through space and vanished, returning to the throne room of his Underworld.

Hawk's feet touched the ground. He looked at his sister standing before him, and for the first ti in years—since 2009—his smile was genuine. Unguarded. Full of joy.

He looked at Anya, tears streaming down her face, and spoke softly.

"Hello, my sister. I'm here to take you ho."

Anya stared at her brother, standing so close she could reach out and touch him. Instinctively, she raised her right hand, and the mont her fingers made contact with Hawk's cheek, her tears turned to a radiant smile.

"...Hello, my brother. I knew you'd co for . Just like you promised."

Anya's lips trembled as her hand rested on Hawk's face.

She rembered the mont before she died—when her brother had pulled her from the rubble with his bare hands, cradling her broken body. In her final monts, as her brother wept in despair, he had suddenly ignited with desperate hope and sworn he would bring her back.

And now he had.

He'd co to take her out of this godforsaken Hell.

Thinking of that, Anya threw herself into Hawk's arms and cried openly.

"Brother!"

"Co on. Let's go ho."

Hawk held his sister tightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. His voice was gentle, warm.

And then—

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Space shattered like glass, revealing the world beyond—a place of bright sunlight, singing birds, blooming flowers, and eternal spring.

The Elysian Fields.

Hawk stepped forward, pulling his sister with him. At the sa ti, his left hand flicked backward, tossing the San Venganza Contract behind him.

phisto moved instantly, snatching the contract out of the air.

By the ti he looked up, Hawk had already crossed into his Underworld with Anya in his arms.

WHOOSH.

The spatial rift sealed shut at a speed invisible to the naked eye.

The mont Anya's soul set foot in the Underworld—

Hawk smiled.

He'd been wrong.

phisto, that lying bastard, hadn't told him a single word of truth.

What was all that about needing a vessel to house the soul before resurrection could happen?

Bullshit!

If phisto wanted to, he could resurrect any soul he pleased—fully, completely, and permanently.

Now that Hawk controlled his Underworld and wielded the Law of Life and Death, the mont Anya's soul touched his realm, he knew—he could bring her back to life, too.

He had the sa power.

But—

Not yet.

Because the Life-Death Law he possessed was just a fragnt—the one he'd taken from Blackheart's corpse.

Incomplete. Insufficient.

Of course, if he really wanted to resurrect Anya before his Cosmo fully manifested, it wasn't impossible.

Just like phisto had lied about—he could find a vessel for her soul, then use that thod to bring her back.

He'd go back, commission a clone, and use it to truly resurrect his sister.

But for now—

He'd have to ask Anya to be patient and stay in the Elysian Fields for a little longer.

Hawk turned to his sister and explained the situation.

Anya blinked her wide eyes, completely confused.

Wait for a little longer?

She glanced around at the paradise in front of her.

The pure blue sky and white clouds.

The lush green grass.

Endless fields of blooming flowers.

Crystal-clear streams flowing through the landscape.

And towering in the heart of it all—the magnificent Underworld King's Palace.

So... living here counts as hardship?

Then a mory surfaced—from when she was little, after her heart surgery, when she woke up in the hospital to see her brother sitting by her bedside. She'd smiled at him and described the place she thought was Hell.

And the paradise in front of her now? It wasn't just similar to what she'd described back then.

It was an exact replica. One-to-one.

Anya's thoughts churned. She stared at the serene, peaceful paradise that perfectly matched her childhood imagination of the afterlife. Her chest ached.

Then she turned around and looked at her brother—Hawk—who stood behind her with a gentle, warm smile.

"Brother."

"Yeah."

"These past few years... must have been really hard for you."

Anya looked at him seriously.

She'd died at fourteen. But she'd spent all these years trapped in Hell. She wasn't so naive little girl anymore.

Living in Hell for so long, she understood exactly how difficult it was to steal a soul from phisto's grasp.

And her brother had done it in four years.

Just four years.

Four years ago, he'd stord through Hell and forced phisto—the ruler of this dinsion—to release her.

But four years ago, her brother had been just an ordinary human.

So—

She couldn't even imagine how much blood, sweat, and suffering he'd endured over those four years to get strong enough to bring her back from that endless, sunless Hell.

Brother must have been so tired these past four years.

Anya lifted her head, her eyes glistening with tears again as she looked at the brother who had always treasured her—both before and now.

"Brother, thank you."

"Don't talk nonsense."

Hawk laughed, reaching out to gently wipe the tears from her eyes. Then, just like when they were kids, he ruffled her hair affectionately. "You're not just anyone. You're my sister. You're my... you're my family."

He'd almost said "only family," but then he rembered Gwen. He paused mid-sentence, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Anya.

"By the way—I got you a sister-in-law. You're going to love her."

Anya's tear-filled eyes blinked.

She looked up.

"Sister-in-law?"

"..."

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