Marvel: Apocalyptic Beginning, a High-Level Game!

Chapter 320 New Schemes

Doctor Doom seems to have a very relaxed attitude towards this issue.

He was completely unconcerned about Hanlu's threat to him, as if he already knew exactly what kind of person she was—

That certainty did not come from calculation, but from a deeper, almost intuitive judgment.

"Because you are a kind god—or a kind person."

His voice came from behind the mask, as calm as a still lake, "Even if I despise your kindness, frankly speaking, all the decisions you have made so far have proven that you will stand with humanity."

He paused. His eyes, visible outside the mask, narrowed slightly, as if confirming something.

"At the same time, you seem to be able to understand some dark things as well."

Therefore, I'm betting on you without hesitation.

Especially when you occupy a huge portion of my plans—

You will become our most powerful fighting force.

That's a very reasonable answer.

Moreover, given Doctor Doom's generally acceptable character, this seems to be a very reasonable answer.

After all, considering his good looks, wealth, and personality—

Cooperating with someone like that is undoubtedly much better than cooperating with hydra or Red Skull.

Not to mention the other party's attributes, which are generally used by major authors as "plugins" for major events.

To put it nicely, it's a "key variable"; to put it bluntly, it's a "useful but discarded rag."

But it's still uncertain who will throw at whom.

"Please consider it carefully."

Doctor Doom flicked his cloak in mid-air, the dark green fabric unfurling like a flag fluttering in the wind with a crisp "snap." "Your future holds countless possibilities—and this is merely the most insignificant one."

His tone carried an innate, bone-deep domineering air.

It's not bluffing or posturing, but rather the naturalness of "what I say is the truth".

He gave the molecular man next to him a look—not an order, not a request, but the kind of tacit understanding that only long-term partners have, a tacit understanding that doesn't need words.

The molecule nodded slightly.

With a flick of his finger, a dark spatial rift opened up from the middle to both sides like a piece of cloth torn open by a knife, revealing a sparsely starlit, boundless void within.

Dark purple arcs of electricity leaped along the edge of the crack, like countless thin snakes writhing in the air.

Doctor Doom stepped inside. His cloak swayed at the edge of the crack, and then he vanished into the darkness along with the rest of him.

The molecular man did not follow.

He casually swiped his hand—and the crack closed behind him, as if it had never existed.

He then left behind a clone to continue fighting the sentry.

Golden fist energy and colorless energy flashed alternately in the void, creating a vivid and exciting battle.

At this point, Sentinel Bob could actually catch up.

His toes were already slightly off the ground, and his body was leaning forward slightly, like a taut bowstring, ready to be launched at any moment.

But out of the corner of his eye, he caught Hanlu's slightly raised right hand—a gesture of restraint, not heavy, not fast, but as firm as a wall.

Bob stopped in his tracks. He tilted his head, his golden eyes filled with confusion and a hint of grievance.

"Hey—shouldn't I go up and beat him up?" His voice carried a hint of confusion, as if to say, "Why are you stopping me?" "If it were back then, he might have bullied you guys terribly. John told me about it."

His tone was somewhat extreme.

It wasn't just because he was genuinely angry about the humiliation his friend had suffered—there was so much more to it.

Perhaps it's to prove something, perhaps it's to give back something, or perhaps it's simply the impulse to "do something" after gaining power.

Of course, this may also include part of the fact that he is now overconfident.

I really want to do something to show off.

Who doesn't like to show off in front of others?

In theory, he certainly has reason to be proud.

The fact that he just fought to a standstill with the Molecular Man is the best proof of the abnormal power of his existing system.

What a joke—I just swapped identities and backgrounds with my counterpart in the main universe, and my strength jumped to a super-universe level.

If John, who is still alone, and Thor and the others knew this, they'd probably be begging you for coffee while crying.

But it's okay.

John may have exhausted his potential, but Thor still has an unparalleled future.

Hanlu had complete faith in him. And he was about to explore the other's future.

---

But compared to this—

Hanlu fell silent. His brows furrowed slightly, and he tapped his chin with his fingers, making a soft "tap-tap" sound.

He felt that many of the plans he and Lugurgos had made needed some adjustments.

For example—maybe he really needs to join forces with the creator pantheon.

His mind raced. Without this trick, he would probably have had to resort to any means necessary to help Adam advance a little.

But now it seems, should we just stick to the original storyline?

Hanlu nodded silently. His gaze pierced through the void, past the whispering gods, through the layers of dimensional barriers, and landed in a place where no one could see him.

The corners of his mouth were slightly upturned, and it was unclear what he was thinking.

Soon, in this void, the last wisp of a figure also completely disappeared.

The Molecule Man's clone shattered into specks of light during the clash, the Sentinel withdrew his fist, and Hanlu withdrew her gaze.

The gods fell silent. They went home, back to their mothers, and went about their own lives. The impending end remained unknown.

But—it's okay.

---

"That wretched Puni—"

Sorenson's voice echoed from the depths of the void, carrying a pent-up anger and resentment that had finally erupted after being suppressed for too long. His body was rapidly traversing the void, like a black meteor, trailing a long, fiery tail formed from shattered dark energy.

"Even in a different world, it remains just as powerful—"

His body was no longer in its original, clearly defined form.

After devouring the Black Death Emperor—the one known as the "darkest being in the universe"—his form became even more blurred and distorted, more like a constantly changing storm formed from pure darkness.

The dark energy churned, boiled, and intertwined on his body, like countless black snakes tearing at each other.

That's right.

He casually crushed a guy called the Black Death Emperor to death, then devoured the other's dark energy.

The energy flowed into his body like molten lava, spreading along every vein, every fiber, and every cell—replenishing his blood supply.

Okay, fine.

The Infinity Stones and the Black Death Emperor ultimately became "enhancing potions" for all the characters under Hanlu's command.

There's no way around it, it works just too well, doesn't it?

However, Sorenson felt that his strength had actually increased further during his battle with Puni.

It's not the kind of forced, artificial boost, but rather the kind of power that's unleashed from the very core of your being on the brink of life and death.

He could sense that some being was guiding him from the shadows—his current strength had reached the multiverse level.

Ok.

Incidentally, even someone of his multiverse-level status is nothing compared to those established gods.

But at least the rank is close, which is the biggest improvement.

Because he is about to become a pawn in Hanlu's trial and error.

One piece, no one expected it to be smashed so hard.

---

Sorensen turned around abruptly.

That dazzling golden light, like the blazing sun, chased after him from behind, its speed and momentum as powerful as a falling sun.

That's Puni—his nemesis who always stands on the side of light—still chasing him.

Sorenson gritted his teeth. His body twisted violently in mid-air, like an eel slipping out of a fishing net, and he disappeared into the deeper darkness.

That darkness was not ordinary darkness, but an absolute nothingness that even light could not reach, a void that blurred even the concept of space, existing between universes.

He flew wildly.

Until—the barriers between universes were broken.

His body was squeezed out of a thin membrane, like a fish leaping from the water and falling into a completely different world.

The surroundings were no longer dazzling galaxies and swirling nebulae, but a boundless chaos composed of countless ruins, fragments, and debris.

What are those ruins? They are the corpses of a dead universe. They are the skeletons of forgotten timelines. They are the tombstones of erased possibilities.

They floated there, densely packed, layer upon layer, like an endless garbage dump.

There was no light, no sound, and no sign of life.

Sorensen stopped.

Before he could even catch his breath—or rather, before he could even confirm whether he was safe—he crashed into something.

"boom--"

The impact wasn't heavy, but it was very real.

He felt as if he had bumped into a wall of flesh—no, not a wall, but something soft, warm, and reeking of decay.

His body was bounced back by that thing, tumbling twice in mid-air before he finally managed to regain his balance.

He raised his head.

Looking up at that thing above my head.

It was a gigantic—no, not just one, but an enormous monster of "an entire multidimensional level".

Its body is like a crumpled sponge made of countless tentacles and flesh, each tentacle as long as a galaxy, and every inch of its skin is slowly writhing in a creepy way.

Its body was covered with scars and wounds, some of which had healed, while others were still oozing a green, luminous liquid. The droplets floated in the air like irregular pieces of jade.

Countless limbs, like octopus tentacles, stretched out from its body. Some hung in the void, some wrapped around the cosmic debris, and some curled up together, as if licking their own wounds.

That thing is recovering from its injury.

The moment it felt the impact, it slowly and sluggishly lowered its head. Countless eyes—large and small, deep and shallow, densely packed—opened at the same time, staring at the tiny individual that had collided with it.

Those eyes held weariness, impatience, and a lazy, angry look of someone whose rest had been disturbed.

It glanced at Sorenson.

Ok.

You look just like me.

Two “dark creatures”—one a monster of the wounded Cthulhu concept, the other an elf that has consumed countless dark energies—stand in the center of the cosmic ruins, looking at each other.

No one spoke first.

In the chaos, only the sound of tentacles slowly wriggling and the silent trails of green droplets drifting in the void could be heard.