The Next Morning
Ernst emerged from the archives, his mind buzzing with 500 years of occult theory.
He ate a quick breakfast prepared by Azazel, then went to find the Mad Monk.
Rasputin was waiting by the altar, pacing like a caged tiger.
"Well?" Rasputin demanded.
"Can you fix the machine? Does the science of man comprehend the magic of gods?"
Ernst wiped crumbs from his lab coat.
"I understand the theory. Magic is just energy manipulation via vocal and somatic keys. But I need to see it in action. Show me."
Rasputin scoffed, but he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a wand, a dark, twisted piece of wood that looked like petrified bone.
"Watch closely, scientist."
Rasputin picked up a ceramic chalice and dropped it. It shattered on the stone floor.
With a flick of his wrist, Rasputin intoned, "Reparo."
A flash of light. The shards reversed gravity, knitting themselves back together until the chalice sat whole on the table.
"Matter reconstruction," Ernst noted, his eyes narrowing as he tracked the energy spike.
"You reversed the entropy of the object locally."
Rasputin pointed the wand again.
"Protego."
A shimmering shield appeared.
Then, "Wingardium Leviosa."
The chalice floated, bobbing in the air.
"Telekinesis and force field generation," Ernst analyzed.
"Standard Latin syntax. Efficient, but limited by your biological output."
Rasputin lowered the wand.
"It is enough to rewrite reality."
"Perhaps," Ernst said.
"But for the portal, you are trying to convert this biological magic into raw spatial displacement. That is why the machine failed. The conversion ratio is wrong."
He walked over to the massive ring.
"Why use magic at all? Why didn't you just use the Tesseract?"
Rasputin froze. "The Tesseract?"
"Yes," Ernst said casually.
"Schmidt has had it for years. It produces infinite spatial energy. One pulse from the Tesseract could open a door to the Ogdru Jahad wide enough to fit a planet through. Why are we messing around with bone dust and Latin?"
Rasputin's face went pale, then purple.
The veins in his forehead bulged.
"Schmidt..." Rasputin hissed, his voice dripping with venom.
"That red-faced peasant! He told me the Tesseract was only good for bombs! He hoarded the key to the universe to build... explosives?"
"He is a soldier," Ernst shrugged.
"He lacks vision. I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen."
Rasputin slammed his fist onto the altar, cracking the stone.
"I have wasted years! I have sacrificed my brothers for scraps of power, while that skeleton sat on a star!"
He took a deep breath, composing himself.
"It matters not. The Tesseract is lost. We must proceed with what we have. Can you adjust the machine to maximize the magical input?"
"I can," Ernst lied.
"But it will take time. I need to calibrate the lenses to your specific magical frequency. Seven days."
"Seven days?" Rasputin scowled.
"We have hours."
"Do you want a portal?" Ernst asked coolly.
"Or do you want a crater? Seven days."
Ernst Tent
Whatever Rasputin is trying to do," Ernst said, crushing the fire into cold smoke, "is inefficient."
He turned to the door.
His enhanced senses picked up the faint, rhythmic pacing of boots on the stone floor outside.
It was Ilsa.
She wasn't just guarding them; she was monitoring them.
"She's waiting for a mistake," Azazel grunted, following Ernst's gaze.
"That witch thinks you are a fraud. She wants to crack your skull open and see what's inside."
Ernst adjusted his glasses, a cruel, predatory smile touching his lips.
The influx of magical theory had opened new neural pathways, but it had also spiked his aggression.
He felt a dark, primal need to test his new authority.
"Let her try," Ernst whispered, his voice low and dangerous.
He glanced at the calendar on the wall. The deployment to Scotland was imminent.
"She wants to know what I'm hiding, Azazel. Tonight, I'm going to show her." Ernst clenched his fist, the memory of the fire still warm on his skin.
"She's coming to interrogate me. But by the time I'm finished, the only thing she'll be able to say is my name."
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Chapter 34.5 (Ernst X IIsa)
----
For the next week, Ernst played a dangerous game.
He spent his days tinkering with the machine, making adjustments that could have been done in an hour.
He spent the rest of the time draining Rasputin of knowledge.
He asked about ley lines, about rune crafting, about the nature of the soul.
Rasputin, desperate for the machine to work and arrogant enough to think Ernst was just a curious mortal, answered everything.
Ernst absorbed it all.
His enhanced brain filed the magical theory alongside quantum physics.
He was building a unified theory of reality.
By the fifth day, Rasputin was exhausted.
He had taught Ernst more in a week than he had taught his acolytes in a decade.
"Enough," Rasputin growled on the seventh morning.
"The machine is ready?"
"It is," Ernst said, stepping back from the console.
"I have aligned the intake manifold. It will hold."
"Good," Rasputin said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"Tonight, we open the door."
As night fell, a storm brewed over the Scottish coast.
Rain lashed against the ruins.
Ernst stood by the control panel.
He extended his mental senses outward, past the machine, past the walls of the abbey.
There, on the ridge overlooking the bay, he felt them.
Heartbeats. Twelve of them. Moving stealthily.
One was calm, older, Professor Trevor Bruttenholm.
The others were American soldiers, terrified but disciplined.
The Allied strike team, Ernst realized.
They are here to stop the ritual.
Ernst glanced at Rasputin, who was already chanting at the altar, oblivious to the approaching soldiers.
'I could warn him,' Ernst thought.
'But why interrupt the show?'
Rasputin was planning to summon the Beast of the Apocalypse to destroy the world.
Ernst just wanted to see what came through the hole.
And if the Americans killed Rasputin... well, that just tied up a loose end.
"Dr. Ernst," Azazel whispered, appearing at his side.
"We have company outside."
"I know," Ernst said, checking the charge on the Tesseract batteries he had secretly installed in the machine to ensure it worked.
"Let them come. We are just the technicians. When the shooting starts, we fade into the shadows."
He looked at the swirling vortex beginning to form in the center of the ring.
"Get ready, Azazel," Ernst smiled.
"We are about to meet a celebrity."
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