Gotta say, Kaecilius, juiced up with Dormammu's dark energy, actually had a tiny bit of swagger going on.
At least he could "power up" now.
Too bad, after tangling with the Scarlet Witch from the 616 universe, Kaecilius's little power-up didn't even register on Ronan's radar.
Her power-ups could ripple reality itself; yours, Kaecilius? Nada.
So, Ronan just grinned and watched Kaecilius flail around like he was auditioning for some cosmic dance-off.
How to put it?
The moves were flashy, but the practical use? Eh.
The energy from the Dark Dimension burst out of Kaecilius's body. Following his lead, his little posse behind him mirrored every step.
Truth is, dark energy's got plenty of perks.
Like boosting your strength, extending your lifespan—
Huh?
Wait a sec, doesn't that make dark energy sound like some miracle cure-all?
Anyone who's tapped into it can't stop singing its praises.
But here's the catch: behind that "cure-all" vibe lurks Dormammu's shady intentions.
Sure, you get a brief high from his power, but after that? You're stuck in an endless "sage mode"—completely under Dormammu's thumb, every move dictated by him.
Maybe Kaecilius forgot the golden rule every sorcerer gets after passing their trial period:
Never trust a word from a demon or anything from the Dark Dimension. Because if you do, all you'll have left in your head is "Mama made me this way."
Kaecilius in full dark mode? Yeah, he'd changed a bit from before.
Take those sharp stripes on his face or that pie-chart-worthy expression—three parts cool, three parts sneer.
"This is the power Dormammu gave you?"
"Man, he's one stingy jerk."
Feeling the measly trickle of dark energy in Kaecilius, Ronan couldn't help but smirk.
With that pitiful amount, Ronan could burp out more dark energy than that.
If this was enough to win Kaecilius over, he should've just defected to Ronan instead.
Sure, Ronan wouldn't have much use for him, but he'd make a decent meat shield.
"Do you even hear yourself?"
"Even the Ancient One, every time she swiped dark energy from Lord Dormammu, didn't snag even one percent of this."
"And you've got the gall to talk smack?"
Kaecilius's eyes bulged, like Ronan had just trashed his idol.
By now, Kaecilius was a full-on Dormammu stan—think rabid fanboy, worse than the most obsessive Marvel groupies.
"Lord Dormammu, we'll take on the whole universe for you!"
"Why would I wanna fight the universe?"
"Doesn't matter, we'll piss off every powerhouse out there for you!"
Cough, cough, cough.
Yeah, Kaecilius's mindset wasn't far off from that.
"Sigh."
"Dormammu—this guy… no, this monster—he's a better liar than me."
"With that big face and thick skin, even I'd feel cheap spinning a lie that lame."
Ronan clicked his tongue. One dared to spew it, the other dared to buy it.
If the Ancient One's hauls were less than this speck, she might as well have smashed her head into the Dark Dimension and called it quits.
All that effort for a crumb of dark energy?
No clue if it'd even keep her ticking—the side effects alone weren't worth the hustle.
"Enough talk. Taste Lord Dormammu's power!"
"Go!"
Kaecilius jerked his head side to side, and his goons charged forward.
Ronan rolled his eyes.
Guess Kaecilius wasn't totally gone—he still had the sense to send his lackeys to test Ronan's chops.
Then he'd figure out whether to fight or slip away.
Safe to say, those followers were just tools in Kaecilius's kit.
Without a word, his crew went straight into "Phase Two" mode, hurling Kamar-Taj spells at Ronan as they rushed him.
Ronan let out a sigh.
Poor kids—someone's using you as stepping stones, and you're still tiptoeing to help them stomp harder.
Even Deadpool's fanboys don't simp this hard.
Sighing aside, Ronan wasn't about to let them off easy.
Three identical clones split off from him, stepping right up to block the charge.
Even if Kaecilius was the one who killed Joseph, these punks were accomplices, no doubt.
No need to go as hard on them as he would on Kaecilius, though. So, in a rare act of mercy, Ronan decided: strip 'em, seal their magic, and dump 'em in the Himalayas.
If they could walk out alive, he'd let 'em go.
Thinking it over, Ronan felt he was being a bit too saintly.
As for Kaecilius…
Ronan looked up at him.
His clones had already hauled the goons off somewhere else, leaving just the two of them.
Seeing his crew get dragged off by Ronan's doubles, Kaecilius couldn't help but frown.
He talked a big game, but deep down, he was still wary of Ronan's strength.
That kneeling humiliation? Burned into his memory.
"Alright, quit staring."
"No amount of glaring's gonna kill me."
"What, you hoping some enlightened monk pops up, calls me a monster, and slices me down?"
Seeing Kaecilius frozen, Ronan broke the silence first.
He didn't have time to pose off with this guy—he had stuff to do.
"Looks like being tapped as Sorcerer Supreme's made you insufferably cocky."
"Fine, then—feel what despair tastes like!"
Kaecilius roared and bolted straight at Ronan.
Ronan rolled his eyes again.
You villains—why bother with the trash talk before a fight?
Win, and it's fine. Lose, though?
That's a humiliation double-dip.
Watching Kaecilius barrel toward him, Ronan—right in his face—casually put both hands behind his back.
That move? Pure provocation.
A loud-and-clear "I don't even need my hands to take you."
Sure enough, it lit Kaecilius up even more.
His roar cranked up a notch, giving Ronan flashbacks to some anime from his past life.
Louder the yell, stronger the fighter.
Kaecilius leapt high, his right fist rocketing toward Ronan.
The red Ring of Raggadorr gleamed on his knuckles.
Bang!
Kaecilius's body flew back hard.
Ronan stood there, one foot planted, the other still raised, grinning at Kaecilius sprawled on the ground.
"That's it? That's it?"
"No way—no way someone with all that dark energy can't beat a teenage sorcerer, right?"
"Seriously, no one's that weak, are they?"
Those words, paired with Ronan's smug face, were a fatality-level taunt!
Even a normie couldn't shrug that off—let alone Kaecilius, freshly pumped with dark energy.
He felt like Ronan didn't even see him as a threat!
"You're dead!!!"
Kaecilius sprang up and charged again.
This time, he went all out—dark energy from Dormammu boiling inside him.
Bang!
Another kick.
Ronan shook his still-raised right foot, like he was dusting it off.
"Is that dark energy Dormammu gave you counterfeit or what?"
"How're you weaker than before?"
Ronan raised an eyebrow, his face dripping with mock confusion.
That line, with that look? Another dagger straight to Kaecilius's heart!
He couldn't believe it—Ronan was kicking his powered-up self around with one foot!
It didn't fit his script!
Back before the Dark Dimension mess, if Ronan fought this Kaecilius, it might've been a slog.
He hadn't fully "leveled up" back then.
But now? Ronan was a whole new beast.
The Dark Dimension had seeped into him, remaking his body top to bottom.
Put it this way: this Ronan wasn't even human anymore.
Even Thanos showing up might get pinned down and schooled.
"Argh!!!!!"
Kaecilius lost it completely.
He couldn't stomach it—choosing the dark side, and still not touching Ronan.
If his kneeling back then was just a fluke—caught off guard, maybe a cheap shot—he could live with it.
But now? Fully prepped, way stronger than before, and still getting crushed worse than ever?
Unacceptable.
"Stop yelling, stop yelling."
"Disturb the neighbors, fine—just don't disturb me."
Ronan dug at his ear, glaring at Kaecilius with mild annoyance.
Anime protags powering up with screams? Sure, they're the stars.
But you—a side villain—yelling for what?
Crying about fate not handing you cheats?
Planning to strip down next and go for a mutual KO?
"How about this: you quit shouting, and I'll spot you both legs?"
Ronan glanced at Kaecilius, helplessly offering a truce.
For his poor ears, he'd give Kaecilius a two-leg handicap.
This time, Kaecilius didn't say a word—just charged again.
Guess that was a yes… maybe?
Ronan stayed put, lowering his raised feet.
He watched Kaecilius close in, then gave a soft whistle.
Energy whips snapped into existence in front of him, meeting Kaecilius's furious rush head-on.
Crack!
A whip lashed out, leaving a welt across Kaecilius's face.
Before he could react, another whip snagged his legs.
Momentum kept his upper body lurching forward while his feet stayed pinned—classic faceplant incoming.
Thud!
Ronan winced and shut his eyes. Too brutal to watch.
Then came the relentless crack-crack-crack of whips.
He swore—he didn't have any weird kinks! The whips just did their thing!
Ronan wasn't taking the blame!
The hits kept coming, and he cracked his left eye open.
Hiss.
Ouch! Too much ouch!
If that were him down there, he'd be howling too.
So, instinctively, Ronan plugged his ears.
He knew it—Kaecilius was gonna yell again!
"Get off me!!!!"
Sure enough, Kaecilius roared from the ground, slicing through the whips binding his legs with his hands, then shredding the rest.
The severed whips zipped back to Ronan, nuzzling his face like sulky pets.
Ronan unplugged his ears, gave them a gentle pat, and recalled them.
Good enough.
Those few lashes? Even Ronan thought they were a tad harsh.
"Ronan…"
"Guess I've been underestimating you all along."
Kaecilius, now a short distance away, seemed to finally cool off.
Ronan's lip twitched.
This scene felt familiar.
Usually, it's the part where the villain's about to unleash their big move—some last-ditch team-up-ending gambit.
Before that, they'd ramble some vague sob story about how the world screwed them over, how they wouldn't have turned out this way otherwise.
AKA: the redemption moment.
"Back then, in utter despair, I found Kamar-Taj, thinking I could start over."
"I did—reborn—but I couldn't save the one I loved most."
"I had to watch her die right in front of me."
"I begged the Ancient One, but she said she didn't have the knack for spells—Kamar-Taj's magic couldn't save her."
"So many got a fresh shot at Kamar-Taj, so why—why just her?"
Kaecilius slipped into his memories.
Ronan fought the urge to roll his eyes. He'd heard this tale more than once.
Mordo and Wong had each told it already.
That story was why folks cut Kaecilius slack for his weird temper.
"But then I met Lord Dormammu, and I realized something."
"Turns out, a lot of things don't need 'talent' or rules."
"Because the ones making the rules are the first to break 'em."