Decades passed.
Or maybe centuries. Time no longer mattered. It had stretched, warped, become a canvas I could paint across as I pleased. The world moved, civilizations rose and fell, but I—Merlin reborn, Sorceress Supreme, the apex of magic—remained untouched, observing it all with a faintly amused smile.
The Dimension Lords had learned caution. Most no longer dared touch Earth, not after Mephisto, not after the subtle but devastating demonstrations of what happened to those who underestimated me. Some whispered my name in fear, others simply watched from afar, their plots postponed indefinitely, waiting for a natural end that would never come.
I let them wait. Patience is a weapon sharper than any sword.
A few, however, were still bold enough to poke. Dormammu, Mephisto, and a handful of others, their arrogance matched only by their curiosity, occasionally tested boundaries. They learned quickly that I could dismantle their schemes before their teeth even sunk into the world.
But it wasn't just Dimension Lords. Dark witches, cults, mortal magic-users thinking they could summon forces beyond comprehension, shadowy organizations attempting forbidden rituals—I toyed with them. Their failures became lessons I stored in my mind, cataloging techniques, weaknesses, and potential for amusement.
And reputation? Oh, the whispers across dimensions had grown louder than I ever expected.
Mortals called me a goddess.
Sorcerers called me an enigma.
Gods… well, even Odin's All-Seeing Eye lingered longer when my name was mentioned.
It was… delightful.
With this fear, this respect, this universal reputation, I could finally accomplish something I had been planning for decades. Something subtle, elegant, and terrifying in its simplicity:
I would reshape the battlefield before anyone even knew it existed.
No one could touch me. No one dared. Even Mephisto had agreed to my strict deals, begrudgingly. Dormammu could summon worlds of fire, but they were sparks to me.
And so I began. Not overtly. Not with war cries. But quietly, elegantly, weaving threads across dimensions, subtly redirecting threats, preparing contingencies, and creating… toys.
I smiled as I sipped tea in my London sanctum, dozens of magical tomes floating around me like loyal attendants. My other self, the lazy, playful Merlin, observed from the corner of my mind. "Perhaps," I thought, "the real fun is only just beginning."
Because now, every universe, every timeline, every would-be threat, was aware of me. And when I finally decided to play, the results would be… spectacular.