The battlefield was a cacophony of destruction. The ground shook as massive bursts of magic collided, sending shockwaves through the air. Morpheus stood in the center, his eyes locked on Helga and Loki, who were positioning themselves against him and Herpo. The battlefield around them felt distant, the chaos of war swirling beyond their immediate fight.
Morpheus's expression remained unreadable, his hands steady at his sides. He wasn't concerned about the damage being wrought around them; he had a purpose here. His brother Herpo, massive and imposing in his human form, towered beside him, his eyes glowing with a venomous light. Together, they had become an unstoppable force at least that's what they believed.
Helga, silver mask reflecting the darkened sky, raised her wand, eyes locked on the duo. "We won't let you have this victory," she said, her voice unwavering.
"Such noble words, Helga," Morpheus replied, his tone casual, almost disinterested. He took a slow step forward. "But in the end, they mean nothing."
Before either of them could react, Herpo lunged, the transformation almost seamless as he shifted into his basilisk form. He roared a guttural sound that shook the very earth. The air seemed to tense around them, and in the blink of an eye, Herpo was on Helga, his massive tail swiping at her, sending shockwaves through the surrounding chaos. Helga was quick, ducking under the swing and stepping back, raising her wand as she did so.
Helga countered by casting a blinding shield of light, deflecting Herpo's strike. She wasn't fooled by his monstrous size she knew how to fight. With a flick of her wrist, she sent a series of cutting charms toward his exposed side, the air crackling with the intensity of the spells.
Herpo howled, the cuts already healing as the basilisk's natural regeneration worked in overdrive, but it gave him pause—just long enough for Loki to slip into view beside him. Loki's laughter echoed through the battlefield as his form flickered and vanished, shifting into one of his clones.
Morpheus, seeing the opening, took a step back and raised his hand, sending a pulse of magic through the ground. The terrain itself seemed to buckle, the earth twisting and rising in sharp, jagged spikes that tore through the nearby demons and angels. The bodies of fallen soldiers served as perfect conduits, their life force fueling his spell. The spikes aimed at Loki, but the trickster was already gone, replaced by another clone.
Loki's voice rang out from multiple directions. "How predictable. You think your terrain tricks can trap me?"
Morpheus's lips curled into a smirk. "Predictable, maybe. But effective."
He shifted his gaze to Herpo, who was struggling with Helga's onslaught of defensive spells. With a gesture, Morpheus transfigured the sand to metal plates that lined Herpo's form like armor.
While he did so Helga seized the moment. She cast a spell—a line of light that split the air and shot straight at Morpheus. It was a piercing spell, designed to break through defenses with precision. But Morpheus simply stepped aside, the beam passing inches from his face as he watched her carefully.
"Is that all, Helga?" Morpheus taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "I expected more."
Herpo used his massive form to slither in a wide arc and flick his tail causing the metal plates to fly from his scales and sink into the sand, as they fell demons were crushed, angels where clipped from the sky and Helga had to hastily dodge. Herpo shifted back to his human form with alarming speed, his eyes flickering between the two of them. "We've got you surrounded," he growled.
He didn't lie they were now surrounded by the metal 'armor' Morpheus created earlier. Like iron walls blocking all from seeing inside.
Loki appeared again, stepping from the shadows, his eyes glowing. "Not quite." His form shimmered and then split into multiple illusions. Each one moved independently, making it impossible for Morpheus and Herpo to predict where the real Loki was. The battlefield around them became a confusing blur, Loki's voice echoing from all directions.
Herpo's eyes narrowed as he swung his gaze to each of the clones. "They think they can outsmart us with tricks?"
Morpheus raised a hand, a flicker of power building in his fingertips. The clones were just that clones. Morpheus's smile was thin, a wicked gleam in his eye. "You underestimate us."
Herpo's form blurred again, and he lunged, his basilisk jaws snapping with terrifying speed. Loki's illusions fell one by one as Herpo tore through them, his sharp fangs crushing the air.
But Morpheus was already casting, his words a low murmur. The blood pooled around the battlefield swirled behind Loki, and a series of chains erupted from the earth, seeking to bind him. Loki's eyes widened in realization, and he was forced to duck and dodge, his clones dispersing as he leaped to the side. "You're getting faster," he admitted, but his smile remained wicked.
The battle raged on—chaotic, brutal, gritty. Bodies of demons and angels fell by the hundreds, each strike of magic and force creating yet another layer of destruction. Morpheus and Herpo pressed forward, their partnership flawless, each knowing the other's movements without needing to speak. Every move was deliberate, every spell cast with deadly precision.
Helga kept up the pressure, her magic a relentless barrage of spells meant to wear them down. She was swift and calculated, never giving them a moment's respite. The fighting wasn't about grand gestures or flashy spells it was about control, about stripping away any advantage the enemy had.
Loki, however, was the wild card. He kept moving, slipping between shadows, making it impossible for Herpo or Morpheus to land a hit. But every time he made a move, he was one step behind. The tension in the air was palpable, each spell fired holding the weight of years of hatred and mistrust.
It was a battle of attrition, one that would not end until one side had been broken.
Morpheus grinned as he summoned another wave of destruction, pushing back Loki and Helga, but he knew, he could feel something was coming. Something bigger.
As Morpheus attacked his spells struck the metal plates around them.
No one was paying attention.
***
The moment the shield fell, the battlefield seemed to roar in response. The blinding light of magic subsided, and the dust of a thousand battles lingered in the air. The ground itself trembled under the weight of the incoming enemies, and in the distance, the pyramid loomed—its structure now more vulnerable than ever.
Thor, the mighty god of thunder, led the charge. Lightning crackled violently around his body, each bolt a living entity as he surged forward, his feet pounding the sand. His eyes were fierce, locked on the pyramid, and nothing would stop him from reaching it. His hammer, Mjölnir, pulsed with power, every swing sending tremors through the earth beneath him.
Behind Thor, a tide of enemies rushed forward. Creatures of every shape and form—demons, angels, Valkyries—flooded the battlefield like a swarm of locusts, their presence a dark blot on the landscape. But the humans on the opposing side weren't helpless. Wizards from the Harry Potter world, standing tall on the front lines, raised their wands and conjured powerful spells, the air crackling with magic.
A quick flick of a wand, and the sand beneath their feet shifted, transfiguring into sharp metal spears. They shot forward with incredible precision, aimed directly at the oncoming enemies. A wave of wands, each one casting a different form of magic, transformed the very environment into a weapon, the sand becoming metal, stone, and even jagged shards of glass. Soldiers conjured shields, barrels, and even boulders to block the enemy advance, pushing back the oncoming horde with everything they had.
The centaurs, galloping with wild abandon, were stationed further out. Their bows, perfectly crafted, released enchanted arrows that flew through the air with deadly speed. Each arrow plucked an enemy from the sky, one after the other, leaving a wake of fallen angels and demons as the centaurs' precise shots found their mark.
The goblins, smaller but fiercely intelligent, popped out of the sand like little specters, their small bodies making them quick and elusive. They targeted the backlines, darting between the legs of larger enemies and slashing with quick, sharp blades. Despite their small stature, their attacks were swift and deadly, leaving behind a trail of confusion as they vanished back into the sand as quickly as they had come.
Amidst the chaos, the wizards continued their onslaught. A transfiguration spell twisted the air, morphing the sand beneath their feet into giant hands that clawed at the approaching enemies, while others summoned blasts of fire, water, and ice to keep the advancing forces at bay. The battlefield was alive with magic—conjured creatures, summoned barriers, and defensive enchantments—every soldier playing their part to hold the line.
Thor, undeterred by the chaos around him, fought his way through the storm of magic and bodies. His eyes blazed as he focused on the pyramid, each step forward feeling like a personal challenge. His hammer cleaved through enemy after enemy, and he ran as if nothing could stop him—nothing but one figure.
From the rising dust of the battlefield, Khufu stepped forward, his presence commanding. The ancient pharaoh, adorned in his regal armor, his eyes cold and calculating, lifted his hand. Thor's advance halted. The ground itself seemed to recognize Khufu's authority, and a strange, unnatural silence fell over the battlefield.
"I'm going to have to have you stop there," Khufu's voice was firm, as though it carried the weight of centuries.
Thor skidded to a halt, his lightning crackling in the air, his gaze narrowing on the figure in front of him. He had fought gods and monsters before, but this… this was different. The ancient power radiating from Khufu was undeniable.
The battlefield seemed to hold its breath as the two figures locked eyes. Behind them, the chaos continued, but in this moment, everything else was irrelevant. The lines were drawn. The stage was set.
And then, as if a silent command had been given, the ground shook once again.