Marvel : I'm in Westview Town

Chapter 140 - 140 : Angel??

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"It's not very clear. It feels like we've entered a mysterious space."

Finn observed the space carefully. He had never seen this place before, yet there was something eerily familiar about it.

"What on Earth is this?"

"Shouldn't we just go over and have a look?"

Spider-Man—Peter Parker—didn't waste time with idle talk. He leaped into the air, effortlessly swinging to the top of a tall building, his suit glinting in the eerie light as he surveyed the ruined city below.

"Finn, there's a battle happening not far from here. Should we check it out?"

Peter turned and called out, his voice echoing across the broken skyline. There was a hint of tension beneath his usual humor. The energy radiating from the battlefield wasn't just powerful—it felt familiar, almost like a memory buried deep.

"Let's go. No point in coming all this way and turning back now."

Finn didn't hesitate. He took off toward the source of the disturbance, his steps confident, his mind sharp.

The rest of the group exchanged quick glances but followed without hesitation. They trusted Finn's instincts.

Soon enough, they arrived at the heart of the city—a place that had clearly been ground zero. Buildings were shattered, debris smoldered in massive craters, and the scent of scorched earth hung heavy in the air.

Finn looked down, narrowing his eyes. Below them, figures with white wings and radiant feathers moved slowly among the wreckage. They looked like celestial beings—angels straight out of a myth. Horns curled from the sides of their heads, but the way they carried themselves wasn't threatening. They looked... devastated.

His curiosity piqued.

"We're close. Let's go down."

Finn descended with the others close behind.

The white-winged beings noticed them immediately. Wounded and wary, they rose, forming a loose perimeter, magic sparking in their hands despite visible injuries. Many had already fallen in battle. This was their last line of defense.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

An older winged figure stepped forward, his glowing staff clutched tightly as arcane energy formed around his fingers. His tone was defiant, ready to fight.

If these were demons, he would rather die defending his people than let them fall further.

"Don't get the wrong idea," Stephen Strange interjected calmly, stepping forward with his hands raised. "We're humans. We came from another realm. We followed the energy fluctuations we felt. We mean no harm. I hope you won't misunderstand."

"You're not demons?"

The old Angel's voice held suspicion as he studied Stephen closely, his eyes glowing faintly with celestial energy.

"Demons?" Peter tilted his head, scratching behind his mask. "Is that your enemy or something?"

That naïve honesty seemed to convince the elder more than anything else.

The tension in the air eased slightly. These weren't demons. Whatever they were, they weren't evil.

"Grandfather, what happened here?"

Wanda Maximoff stepped forward, gently offering her hand to the old Angel. Her tone was soft, but her posture ready—an empath's grace wrapped in a warrior's instincts.

The elder hesitated but, feeling her warmth and lack of malice, allowed her to help him.

"Come with me," he said, his voice hoarse but steady.

He led them through the debris. As they moved, other winged beings—clearly soldiers and civilians alike—watched them with guarded eyes.

"Elder, you can't seriously mean to let them in!" A younger Angel approached, armored and unrelenting. His wings flared behind him in protest. "They might not be demons, but they're strangers. We can't afford another betrayal."

The old one, known among them as the Patriarch, shook his head.

"They carry no malice. No bloodlust. I can feel it. They're not like the others."

It was a dangerous gamble. But he made it anyway.

"Tell me your story," the Patriarch said.

Finn and the group exchanged looks, then nodded. There was no point hiding anything.

Finn explained their arrival, the ripple in spacetime that led them here, the unexplained energy signature that matched nothing known in their world, and the sense that this place wasn't just another dimension—it was a convergence point.

The old Angel listened intently, nodding as the pieces fell into place.

"So it's true," he said at last, sighing. "The war between our kind and the demonic forces has finally breached the veil between realms. I apologize for the destruction you've witnessed. It wasn't meant to reach your world."

He looked at the ground as if ashamed, his wings drooping slightly.

Finn's gaze sharpened.

"What's going on here, exactly?"

The old Angel's expression darkened.

"It's a long story," he said wearily.

And he told them.

This was the Domain of the Eternals—not to be confused with the ones on Earth. This was another fragment of the cosmos, once protected by a pantheon not unlike the Asgardians. They were celestial architects, watchers, and warriors. And they had been at war.

A demon king—known only by the name "Malric the Void-Touched"—had rallied his armies from the Abyss and launched an invasion. His goal was singular: to take the Core Matrix, the sacred energy source that powered the Domain's magic and technology. With it, he could warp time, bend matter, and merge dimensions.

The war began with fire and fury. It never ended.

Ten years passed. The Angels, desperate, evolved. They married technology with magic. Their armor bore runes of light. Their weapons hummed with both power and purpose. But the demons were relentless, their own technology brutal and adaptive.

"They wear armor forged in Hellfire," the old patriarch said. "Our particle cannons barely scratch them."

And so, when steel failed, the Angels turned inward—to magic, to the ancient spells of creation and defense. Their wings were no longer just symbolic—they became weapons themselves, cutting down the enemy in blinding arcs of light and flame.

"Did it work?" Finn asked.

The patriarch nodded grimly. "To an extent. We managed to stop their full advance. But the war still drags on. No side yields. The Core is safe—for now."

Finn stared into the distance, where smoke curled above broken towers. The raw energy here—it wasn't just power. It was potential. And danger.

"You're still fighting, aren't you?"

The patriarch didn't respond with words. He just looked at Finn, and nodded.

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