"I assume you're not the kind of human who ignores favors."
With a casual wave of his hand, Mephisto formed a miniature version of the massive Hell Gate that had appeared before.
As the portal opened, he looked at Lucas and continued calmly,
"Otherwise, you'd be worse than a demon. At the very least, we demons still understand courtesy."
With that, Mephisto stepped backward into the Hell Gate.
"Farewell, Mr. Lucas."
As his words faded, the gate closed.
In the next instant, Mephisto and the Hell Gate vanished completely, as if they had never existed at all.
Watching this theatrical exit, Lucas fell into thought.
Did Mephisto really hand over Lois's soul purely for the sake of a favor?
Impossible.
Lucas was one hundred percent certain—no, one thousand percent certain—that the old fox Mephisto was plotting something.
"So," the Ancient One asked calmly,
"have you figured out why he did it?"
"He wants to tie me to him," Lucas replied succinctly.
"Correct," the Ancient One nodded.
"With Mephisto, even the smallest, seemingly insignificant action can be a crucial part of a far larger scheme."
"He's lived for an unimaginably long time. To achieve his goals, he has more patience and time than any human could ever possess."
"He's even spent hundreds of years laying the groundwork for plans driven by reasons that appear absurd on the surface."
"That's precisely why he's one of the Hell Lords I'm most wary of."
Lucas understood Mephisto all too well.
"I won't get entangled with him," Lucas said flatly.
"And he won't be using me."
The Ancient One shook her head gently.
"Lucas, when dealing with Mephisto, you shouldn't deliberately do—or deliberately avoid—anything."
"Because the moment you act with intent, you may already be stepping into his trap."
"Believe me, if he wants to scheme against you, he will account for every possible choice you might make—just like branching timelines."
"There are only two real ways to break his game."
Lucas raised an eyebrow.
"One: I kill him at the source. Two: I get killed as part of his plan."
"No," the Ancient One said firmly.
"You must not think that way."
"Mephisto hasn't clearly identified you as the key variable yet. If you were to die, that could very well still be part of his design."
"As for killing him—that is something you can consider."
"For most beings, self-sacrifice might be part of a grand plan. But Mephisto?"
"He would never willingly place himself in genuine danger."
"Because he is terrified of death."
Lucas nodded in agreement.
Across universes and events, Mephisto always displayed the same two fatal flaws:
Arrogance.
Fear of death.
Many of his grand schemes ultimately served one purpose—eliminating anything that could threaten him.
The most classic example was when he foresaw that Spider-Man and Gwen's child would endanger him. Mephisto spent years manipulating events, exploiting personalities and weaknesses, and weaving countless details together—until he erased their relationship directly from the timeline.
Not metaphorically.
Literally erased.
He had also turned heroes against one another, inciting conflict and slaughter by manipulating thoughts and emotions.
Lucas knew exactly how dangerous Mephisto was.
Smiling faintly, he said,
"I understand. Don't worry—I happen to know another god of death."
"And rest assured," Lucas continued calmly,
"given the right moment or opportunity, I will find a way to kill him."
The Ancient One simply smiled, saying nothing more.
"Well," Lucas said, standing up,
"now that Lois's soul has been recovered, it's time to return the Time Stone to you."
He opened his hand and gently pushed the Time Stone toward her.
"You don't want to keep it?" the Ancient One asked.
"It is one of the Infinity Stones—a supreme cosmic artifact."
"With it, you could traverse time and stand at its highest vantage point."
Lucas replied indifferently,
"No interest. At least, not right now."
"Time is just a tool to me."
"The past is past. The present is the present. And the future—
that's something I create myself."
A look of clear satisfaction appeared on the Ancient One's face.
"That's precisely why I view you differently," she said warmly.
"Your understanding of time has reached another level."
"If you ever need it, you may borrow the Time Stone at any time."
Lucas nodded.
"Thank you. Now I need to go revive Clark's girlfriend and their child."
"You wouldn't know it unless you saw it yourself," he added.
"I never imagined he was that kind of man."
---
Meanwhile — Hell
In the blazing inferno of Hell, Mephisto sat back on his throne, the corner of his mouth lifting into an inscrutable smile.
"So that's the kind of person he is…"
He swirled the liquid in his goblet, eyes flickering with curiosity.
"What I can't understand," he muttered,
"is how someone like him managed to make all the Hell Lords obey."
"With that personality and those methods, he shouldn't be able to sit at the same table as my old 'friends.'"
"Oh? Mephisto," a cold voice echoed through the fiery domain.
"It's rare to see you deep in thought."
"Cyttorak."
Mephisto looked up at the towering figure who had appeared before him—a massive man with crimson skin and bulging muscles.
"What brings you to my domain?" Mephisto asked coolly.
"Here to donate energy from one of your avatars?"
The hostility in his tone was unmistakable.
Cyttorak, however, didn't care in the slightest.
With a casual wave, he formed a throne of red energy equal in height to Mephisto's and sat down heavily.
"Mephisto," Cyttorak asked,
"I heard you went to Earth to negotiate with the Ancient One?"
"Yes," Mephisto replied.
"So?" Cyttorak pressed.
"Who won?"
Mephisto rested his head on one hand and smirked.
"If I say I won, would you believe me?"
"I wouldn't," Cyttorak replied flatly.
"I'm more interested in what you gained from her."
Mephisto took a slow sip of his drink and replied casually, as if making idle conversation—
"None of your damn business."
"That's not very cooperative," Cyttorak rumbled.
"We have an offensive–defensive alliance. If you act alone and others find out, you'll have to explain yourself."
Mephisto suddenly sat upright, staring directly at Cyttorak.
He took a deep breath of Hell's scorching air and said slowly, deliberately—
"I said… None Of Your Damn Business."
....
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