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The Fallen Gamer 323
🕑 Added 2025-02-21 00:29:31 +0000 UTCChapter 323:
– Doom: Earth Marvel/DxD–
Victor Von Doom leaned against the ornate balcony railing of his palace, sipping whiskey from a crystal glass and admiring the capital city sprawled out before him.
The buildings shone under bright electric lights, powered by technology he had personally introduced. Towers of modern steel and glass stood beside older stone structures.
The entire nation had expanded beyond its original borders after the two Earths merged, but he had handled that little obstacle. Other armies had tried to stake their claim, and he had crushed them.
Now this new territory belonged to him.
Life was good. He no longer wore the iron mask that had once been his trademark. He no longer needed to. He had everything he ever wanted: respect, power, and a thriving population that adored him. He had territory stretching farther than Latveria ever had before, a wife named Zora who was carrying his child, and the backing of "actual angels" who had become allies when the world changed.
Sure... The so-called democracies hated him, but that was their problem. He was content, and his people lived well under his rule.
He sipped his whiskey, savoring its smoky flavor. He considered it one of the best luxuries he had discovered from the newly merged Earth. Imported from some region that no longer existed under its old name, it had a bite that reminded him of his younger days, when he had something to prove.
He let out a small chuckle. He was a different man from who he had been a few years ago. And more happy for it.
Suddenly, a swirling green portal materialized behind him, distorting the air in the corner of his balcony. He tightened his grip on the whiskey glass and set it aside, then moved a hand toward the concealed weapon at his hip. He was prepared to blast whoever the hell was intruding, but then he paused.
A figure stepped through the portal, and Victor’s eyes widened.
It was him. Or rather, an alternate version of him, wearing the familiar old armor and cloak. The green hood was drawn low over a metal mask, the same design he had once worn in his darkest days.
The mask’s eyes glowed faintly, and the figure’s posture radiated anger and bitterness.
Victor felt a hint of nervousness, but he forced it down.
The man in the mask looked around, taking in the modern lighting and advanced cityscape. He seemed confused. Or possibly impressed, though it was hard to read his expression behind the metal face.
Victor cleared his throat. “Hello, me. Welcome to Latveria. To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting… myself?”
The alternate looked him up and down. “Why do you stand there without your armor? Where is your mask?”
Victor shrugged. “Don’t need it anymore,” he said, gesturing to himself. He wore a fine tailored suit. “I achieved my goals. My face is healed, my rule is absolute, and I have a life worth living. No reason to hide behind steel anymore.”
The alternate let out a harsh scoff. “You… you stand barefaced, sipping a drink like some complacent fool?” He scanned the city again. “Why is everything so... modern?”
Victor chuckled. “When the two Earths fused, I seized the opportunity to expand Latveria. Now I have territory that dwarfs what either Earth recognized before. My people are prosperous. I have a wife, a child on the way, and angels for allies. Life is good.”
That final statement made the alternate stiffen. “Angels? Allies?” he growled. “Doom bows to no one. Doom conquers!”
Victor let out an amused sound. “Calm down. I haven’t bowed to anyone. This was a mutual arrangement. In exchange, I gained benefits that no other nation could match. That’s how Latveria became the most powerful country in Europe.” And all he had to do was not fuck with Layla of the Fallen or any of her allies. Honestly, not that difficult since she mostly stayed in New York, Japan, or Asgard.
The alternate’s masked eyes flared. “You’ve grown weak.”
Victor turned away from the railing, picking up his whiskey and taking another sip. He sensed the anger rolling off his alternate, but he also felt an odd pity for the man who stood where he used to be—bitter, scarred, and raging at the world...
“Call it what you want,” Victor said. “I have what I always desired. The days of wearing that tin can on my face and ranting about revenge are over.”
The alternate took a menacing step forward. “Revenge? Against who?”
Victor paused, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Used to be the Fantastic Four,” he admitted. “But they’re done. Reed Richards broke the law one too many times. He’s wanted for terrorism. Susan Storm… ended up in some other relationship that had nothing to do with him. I think that’s hilarious. Johnny Storm is off in space somewhere, or so I heard. Ben Grimm is living peacefully, retired from the hero business. There’s nothing left for me to fight.”
The alternate’s posture twitched. “No… that can’t be. Doom must stand triumphant over his enemies. That’s the point!”
Victor spread his hands. “I did, in my own way. Then I moved on. The world changed, and I adapted.”
They locked gazes, the alternate’s mask reflecting the ambient light. Victor sensed the man’s frustration building. “Why did you come here?” Victor asked. “Looking for answers on how to find a better life for yourself?”
The alternate hesitated, anger flickering behind the mask. “You are not Doom,” he spat. “You’re a coward wearing my face. I wanted to see if this new Earth had anything to offer me. I wanted to see if there was a path for me that didn’t involve constant struggle. But you disgust me!”
Victor set his whiskey down on the small table behind him, a sudden sense of danger prickling the back of his neck. “Look, I’m sorry you feel that way. If you want me to help you, maybe show you how to—”
He never finished the sentence. The alternate lunged forward with terrifying speed, slamming a gauntleted hand right into Victor’s chest. Victor felt metal fingers crush bone and tear through flesh. He coughed up blood as agony shot through his entire body!
“No…!” he choked, reaching a trembling hand toward his attacker. The alternate’s eyes behind the mask burned with hate, and he pressed deeper, driving his arm through Victor’s chest.
Blood dripped onto the balcony floor.
“Your thirst for vengeance is gone,” the alternate snarled. “You are not worthy of the name Doom! I will take your place and show this world the true meaning of power!”
Victor’s vision blurred. He coughed again, more blood spilling out, staining his immaculate suit. He staggered, his strength draining away as his heart struggled to keep beating around the metal that had impaled him.
He tried to speak, to call for guards or to summon some last burst of power. But his mind clouded, and the pain overwhelmed him. He fell to his knees, legs giving out.
The alternate yanked his arm free with a sickening wet sound. Victor collapsed onto the cold stone, gasping, the world fading around him. The last thing he saw was his own face—twisted in hateful rage—standing over him.
Then everything went black.
– Doom Earth ??? –
His hand glowed for a moment before he vaporized the corpse, erasing any evidence of his crime. Now he could truly usurp his alternate’s life as his own.
“I suppose I have a “wife” to greet along with a few wars to declare…”
– Charles Xavier –
Charles Xavier stood at the second-floor railing of the mansion, looking down at the front yard where a group of young mutants ran around, chasing each other in a casual game of tag. He smiled. The children seemed happy.
He stretched his legs, a simple habit, and yet it meant the world to him ever since Layla of the Fallen brought him back to life and fixed his spine.
She had apologized for snapping his neck, but he never blamed her for it. He was a fool for being so easily mind controlled…
Erik’s voice drifted out from the living room. “Do you ever get tired of standing, old friend?”
Charles let out a short laugh. “Of course not,” he said, stepping back inside. “I spent more than thirty years in a wheelchair. I’m still enjoying the novelty of walking, if you can believe it.”
Erik nodded from his seat on the couch. He was sipping tea from a simple mug. Charles walked over to a small table, grabbed a snack, and popped it into his mouth. He and Erik were basically retired now. They taught at the school, guiding new generations of mutants and making sure the children felt safe. Tensions between humans and mutants had never been lower. The public had realized that the big existential threats were usually from the stars, so they left the mutant population alone more often than not.
Of course, it was never perfect. There were humans who still held hatred in their hearts, but Charles and Erik refused to give up. They spent much of their time discussing expansions to the school. They wanted to build more dorms and labs, specifically for young mutants with dangerous abilities who needed a safe place to learn.
“I’ve been thinking about dedicating half of the western wing to advanced power testing,” he said. “We could reinforce the walls with that Wakandan metal we ordered. It would help reduce accidents.”
Erik sipped his tea. “I agree. We should also consider an outdoor obstacle course. The kids need more exercise. They spend too much time playing video games nowadays...”
Charles nodded and was about to respond when he felt a strange disturbance. He frowned, seeing Erik stiffen as well. A rectangular portal formed in the air beside the couch.
A bald woman stepped out, wearing a faded trench coat. She looked at them both, her lips curving into a sinister smile.
Erik placed his mug down, the metal surfaces around the room rattling in response to his agitation. He was prepared to attack if needed.
Charles focused on the woman, trying to probe her mind, but his head exploded with pain the moment he tried.
“Stay out of my head,” the woman said. “...I’m more than happy to introduce myself, anyway.” She paused, looking straight at Charles. “Nice to meet you, big brother. I’m Cassandra.”
Charles winced, rubbing his temples as the mental backlash subsided. He blinked in confusion. “Big brother? Why are you calling me that? Why are you here!?”
Cassandra let out a small chuckle. “I’m here because the new boss wants me and my associates to cause chaos... Our mission is to destabilize Layla of the Fallen in any way we can! I don’t personally care about any of that nonsense, but I figured I could kill two birds with one stone by dropping in on an alternate version of the brother who tried to murder me!”
Erik frowned, raising a hand to manipulate the metal in the room. He flung a wave of iron ornaments at Cassandra, only to watch them all crumble into ash before they reached her.
She wagged a finger at him. “That was naughty,” she said. “You’ll have to be punished. Both of you will. You can live in the hell I spent hundreds of years in. Enjoy the void!”
Charles felt an invisible force yank him off his feet. His stomach lurched. He heard Erik let out a shout, and then the two of them were shoved into the portal she had stepped out from.
“Stop!” Charles cried, but the portal swallowed him whole.
The last thing he saw was Cassandra’s grin as she casually waved goodbye.
– Cassandra –
Cassandra glanced around at the cozy furniture, the pictures on the walls, and the muffled sounds of children playing outside. Ugh, it was all so disgustingly pedestrian. Things around here were going to be changing, that was for sure...
“Well then,” she muttered in glee. “I suppose I should introduce all the students to their new headmistress!”
– Michael –
Michael sat on the grand throne in the new heaven, letting billions of prayers wash over him in a constant hum of voices. It used to overwhelm him, but he had grown more accustomed to it with each passing day.
Every time he settled into the throne that Layla had repaired and enhanced, he felt a subtle surge in his power. Even more interestingly, he had noticed Gabriel seemed stronger each time they met.
He suspected they were both on track to gain their fourteenth set of wings, just like Layla.
He took in a slow breath, channeling divine energy to respond to a handful of important prayers that stood out from the mass. He gently closed his eyes, focusing on the emotions coming through the prayers—fear, desperation, gratitude—when a pulse of light flashed in the throne room.
He opened his eyes to find Gabriel standing there, looking tense.
Michael greeted her with a warm smile. “Sister, what’s wrong?”
Gabriel bit her lip. “I got a strange prayer from my adopted daughter, Asia. One of our sister’s enemies—Reed Richards—apparently appeared out of nowhere during dinner at Asia’s home. He was badly injured.”
Michael straightened. “Reed Richards? That’s unexpected. Do you need me to go with you?”
Gabriel shook her head, brushing a strand of her shining hair aside. “It’s fine. I can handle it, and you need to stay on that throne until the problems around the merged Earth all settle down. We still have countries with two separate governments from different dimensions fighting over who’s in charge.”
Michael sighed, pressing a hand to his temple. “I know. Things are stabilizing in many areas, but some places are a mess. America is especially complicated right now, but at least the fighting there hasn’t turned violent. People are mostly ignoring the political shouting and waiting for the next election to kick both inept governments out.”
“Exactly,” Gabriel said softly. “So keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll see what’s going on with Reed. If things get out of hand, I’ll call you.”
Michael offered a quick nod, and with that, Gabriel vanished in a swirl of golden sparkles, leaving him alone with the constant buzz of prayers. He inhaled and settled back into the throne.
Layla was on Asgard, so many of the prayers meant for her naturally rerouted to him. It was a system they had worked out, so that if one of them was unavailable, the prayers would still get answered. Usually, the prayers that came through were requests for small miracles, blessings, or messages of gratitude.
But then a sudden wave of desperate pleas slammed into Michael’s mind. The voices contained raw panic.
“Help us, Layla!”
“That monster is killing everyone!”
“Please save us from the monster!”
“Layla, please help! Tony is dead! That robot killed him! And that red bitch made Bruce go crazy!”
Michael stiffened, eyes snapping open at the mention of Tony Stark’s death!
He recognized that last voice as Andrea Stark—a friend of Layla’s. He tried to focus on her prayer, feeling the terror behind her words. Then, in the space of a heartbeat, he sensed Tony Stark’s soul entering heaven.
That meant Tony was truly dead!
Michael felt a rush of dread. There was no time to figure out the exact circumstances. He picked up enough from the prayers to realize that the Hulk was rampaging in a city in California, attacking innocent people. Some sort of “robot” had apparently killed Tony. The mention of a “red bitch” though was something he couldn't figure out right away.
He stood up from the throne. He had to go. He had to stop the carnage before the body count rose any higher.
“Keep watch in my absence,” Michael said firmly, directing the words at a pair of lower-ranking angels who lingered near the throne.
They bowed, acknowledging his command.
He closed his eyes and teleported away in a burst of golden light.
– Rizevim –
“...Well, that got him away pretty fast. You really know what you’re doing, human,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Kang responded in an even tone. “I am far more than a simple human, Devil. I’ve ruled over countless timelines. Of course I know what I’m doing.”
“Whatever you say, human,” Rizevim shot back, rolling his eyes.
Rizevim sized up the so-called human next to him—a man named Kang the Conqueror—who claimed he had brought entire universes under his rule. The arrogance in his voice grated on Rizevim’s nerves, but he had to admit that this “human” was pretty smart and ruthless at the very least.
The angels in front of him tried to gather enough courage to speak or call for help, but Rizevim was already tired of wasting time. He lifted his hand, letting dark energy swirl around his fingertips. With a swift gesture, he sent a wave of shadows that drained the grace right out of them. The angels collapsed, their bodies turning pale and husk-like before falling to the floor dead.
A faint smirk crossed Rizevim’s lips. “That should make Michael take notice. We don’t have much time,” he said, glancing at Kang. “Now let’s see if you’re worth a damn.”
Kang shot him an annoyed look but didn’t argue. He walked toward the throne that Layla of the Fallen and Michael had obviously repaired. They had done something with it. Something annoying that was blocking him from finally releasing Trihexa onto this new world, even after he'd broken all of the annoying seals.
He wouldn't be able to destroy it a second time. Rizevim sensed the immense power radiating from it—he knew he wouldn't be able to so much as scratch it. The beings who fixed it were now far above himself in power.
...Man, he'd really fucked around and found out hadn't he?
And yet, he wasn't really that mad. Weak enemies were boring after all!
...The devils had been almost wiped out. He considered it a tragedy in theory, but in practice, he didn’t really care. They were mostly pathetic. Serafall at least had her uses, bearing more female devils to repopulate the race. He had long found the secret to enhancing his race's birth rates but never bothered sharing it.
Rizevim killed all the sons she bore though. Sons and grandsons always ended up disappointing him, so he snuffed them out the moment they were born.
He turned his attention back to Kang. The man had pulled out a small, glowing device and was holding it up to the throne, pressing a button on the side of the device. “I should be able to shift it into another dimension for a couple of minutes.”
Rizevim let out a huff of laughter. “A couple minutes is all I need to unleash Trihexa onto this world. Not that I expect it to do more than scratch Layla at this point,” he admitted. “But I’ll enjoy the "Khaos" anyway.”
Kang glanced over at him, lips curling in distaste. “The chaos is secondary. My true goals lie elsewhere...”
Rizevim didn’t care what those goals were, as long as they didn’t get in his way.
XXX
A chapter dedicated to villains before shit goes down.
Layla: Wait…? I'm not even in this chapter…
Comments
Nassica
Honestly I want doom to win just because he’s doom.
LuciferDFallN1
Welp time for the next ark, aka the next batch of villains to fuck around and find out
Shiraori
The funniest thing and biggest f-you to them would be if Trihexa was a woman and Layla seduced her. It would fit Laylas profile and luck XD
WhatAFungi
He’s SOOOO evil! Killing babies!!! Next he’s going to blow up the orphanage, kick a puppy, steal candy from a baby, and then twirl his evil mustache.
Alex Wierzbicki
Disappointed you killed best Doom
David Beltran
Doom sometimes reminds me about the reverse flash sometimes, he can really benarrow minded and petty.
Lictor Magnus
So many simultaneous bad ends 😬
