A Genius Morty

The air in Morty's room was thick with tension, the dim glow of his hidden workshop casting long shadows against the walls. His heart pounded in his chest as he stood between the two figures, both radiating a kind of power he had never encountered before. He'd dealt with some terrifying beings over the course of his adventures with Rick—aliens, gods, interdimensional warlords—but this? This felt different. The oppressive weight in the air told him that these two beings weren't just powerful—they were on an entirely different level.

The first figure, still shimmering like a projection, fixed its cold, glowing eyes on Morty. Its voice was deep and calm, but there was an edge of authority in every word. "Morty Smith, you've tampered with forces beyond your comprehension. The Conclave of Aeons doesn't tolerate such recklessness."

Morty swallowed hard, his mouth dry as sandpaper. The Conclave of Aeons? He'd never heard of them before, not even from Rick. And that was saying something. For anything to stay hidden from Rick for this long, it had to be serious.

The second figure, the one dressed in dark robes, let out a low chuckle, the sound echoing ominously in the small room. "Conclave of Aeons? Please. Their time is long past. The Infinite Coil controls the future now. And this boy—he belongs to us."

Morty's legs felt like jelly. He tried to muster the confidence he'd gained from his newfound intellect, tried to remember the feeling of control he'd experienced when he first tapped into the latent energies of the multiverse. But standing here, caught between two ancient forces he couldn't fully comprehend, that confidence evaporated.

Before he could react, the robed figure moved. Morty barely registered the motion—a blur of black fabric and raw energy—but in an instant, the dark figure was upon the shimmering agent from the Conclave. The two forces clashed with a sound like shattering glass, the very air around them warping and distorting under the pressure of their power.

Morty stumbled backward, slamming against the wall of his room as the battle unfolded before his eyes. Sparks of energy flew as the two agents traded blows, their movements too fast for him to follow. The dark-robed figure wielded shadow like a weapon, slashing through the air with tendrils of black energy that seemed to absorb light itself. The Conclave agent, meanwhile, deflected the attacks with shimmering barriers of multicolored light, the energy warping and bending around him as though reality itself were being shaped by his will.

Each collision sent shockwaves through the room, rattling the furniture and knocking Morty's carefully hidden tools and gadgets off his desk. His heart pounded in his chest, the sheer intensity of the battle making it hard to breathe. This wasn't just a fight—it was a war between beings whose power far outstripped anything Morty had ever encountered. And here he was, caught in the middle, barely able to process what was happening.

"Morty, you fool," he muttered to himself, his voice trembling. "What did you get yourself into?"

As the two agents clashed, Morty's thoughts raced. He had been so sure of himself. His breakthrough with the multiversal energy had made him feel like he was finally stepping out of Rick's shadow, finally becoming something more than just the sidekick. But now, watching these two entities tear through space and time like it was nothing, Morty realized just how small he still was. His intellect, his strength—it was all meaningless in the face of this kind of raw power.

One of the agents—the shimmering one—thrust his hand forward, and a beam of light shot from his palm, slamming into the robed figure's chest. The Infinite Coil agent let out a snarl, stumbling backward as the force of the attack pushed him into the far corner of the room. But he wasn't finished yet. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a vortex of shadow that swirled around him, shielding him from the next attack.

The room was barely holding together. Cracks had formed in the walls and ceiling, the air itself seemed to shimmer with the sheer amount of energy being thrown around, and Morty could feel his stomach lurching from the distortions in gravity. The two figures fought like gods, uncaring of the chaos they were causing. And Morty? Morty was powerless, just a bystander in a battle that far exceeded anything he could handle.

Just as Morty thought he might be able to slip away unnoticed, the dark-robed figure turned toward him, his glowing eyes narrowing. "You—boy. You think you understand the multiverse now? You're nothing. A speck in the grand design."

Morty's body froze. His instincts screamed at him to run, but his legs refused to move. Before he could react, a wave of dark energy shot from the figure's hand, slamming into Morty's chest like a freight train. Pain exploded through his body, his mind going blank as the force of the blast sent him crashing into the opposite wall.

The breath was knocked out of him. His vision swam, and his head throbbed with a dull ache. He groaned, trying to move, but his limbs refused to cooperate. The energy had paralyzed him. He lay there, helpless, watching the battle rage on through a haze of pain.

How could I have been so stupid?

Morty's mind raced, grappling with the overwhelming realization of his own insignificance. He had thought he was ready for this. He had thought he could handle the power he had tapped into. But here he was, lying on the floor, completely at the mercy of forces he couldn't hope to understand or control. It was the harshest of wake-up calls. His intelligence, his inventions, his secret workshop—it all meant nothing in the face of this kind of power.

The shimmering agent from the Conclave of Aeons pressed the attack, firing beam after beam of light at the dark-robed figure. But the Infinite Coil agent was relentless. He absorbed the attacks with his shadowy vortex, the darkness growing thicker and more oppressive with each passing second.

Morty tried to move, to push himself off the floor, but his body refused to cooperate. His muscles felt like lead, his mind foggy from the blast. All he could do was watch as the two beings continued their battle, the walls of his room buckling under the strain.

Finally, with a roar of frustration, the Infinite Coil agent unleashed a wave of darkness that consumed the entire room. Morty gasped as the air was sucked from his lungs, the oppressive blackness pressing in on all sides. But then, just as suddenly, the darkness shattered—broken apart by a surge of light from the Conclave agent.

The dark-robed figure let out a hiss of pain as he stumbled backward, the shadows retreating from his body. He was weakened, his power fading.

The Conclave agent stepped forward, his shimmering form glowing brighter as he raised his hand for a final strike. "This is the end for you."

But before he could deliver the blow

the dark-robed figure sneered and, with a flick of his hand, opened a swirling, black portal behind him. The shadows around his body receded as he stepped backward toward it, eyes glowing with malice. "You think you've won, Aeon?" he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "This is far from over. The Infinite Coil never forgets."

In an instant, the figure disappeared into the portal, the darkness collapsing in on itself until only silence remained. The room was still again, save for the quiet hum of the Conclave agent's energy. Morty lay on the floor, his body still aching from the earlier blast, struggling to process what had just happened.

The shimmering agent turned toward Morty, the glow around him softening as he approached. Morty tried to scramble backward, but his muscles were still weak, his limbs refusing to fully cooperate. His heart pounded in his chest. What would this agent do to him now?

The agent knelt down beside Morty, his form flickering slightly as though it was struggling to maintain its connection to this dimension. "Do not be afraid, Morty Smith," the agent said, his voice calm, yet filled with authority. "You are not my enemy. But you are playing with forces far beyond your understanding."

Morty stared up at the agent, his mouth dry, fear creeping through him despite the agent's seemingly peaceful demeanor. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a strained whisper. "W-What… what do you want from me?"

The agent's shimmering eyes softened, and he leaned closer. "You have touched the multiverse in ways even the Ricks have not. Your breakthrough with the latent energies of the multiverse has drawn the attention of dangerous forces, forces like the Infinite Coil. But they are not the only ones watching. The Conclave of Aeons seeks to maintain balance, and what you have done could upset that balance."

Morty's mind raced, struggling to keep up with what the agent was saying. The latent energies of the multiverse? He hadn't fully understood the scope of what he was doing when he tapped into those energies. Sure, he had wanted to outdo Rick, but he hadn't anticipated this—a secret war, ancient organizations, and powers that could bend reality itself. He had thought he was making a breakthrough, something to prove himself. But now, it felt like he had made a terrible mistake.

"I-I didn't mean for any of this to happen," Morty stammered, trying to sit up, his muscles finally responding to his commands. "I was just… I was just trying to—"

"Improve yourself," the agent finished, his voice neutral. "Yes. But in doing so, you have attracted the attention of beings that will stop at nothing to control the power you've accessed. The Infinite Coil is ruthless, and they will return. They always do."

Morty swallowed hard, the weight of the agent's words sinking in. His chest tightened with the realization that he wasn't prepared for any of this. He wasn't Rick. He didn't have the experience or the cunning to handle this kind of cosmic conflict. Sure, he was smarter now, but that didn't mean he could stand against these ancient, powerful entities. He was still just… Morty.

"But why me?" Morty asked, his voice cracking with the strain of fear and exhaustion. "I'm nobody. Why would they care about what I'm doing?"

The agent straightened, his form flickering again as if it were beginning to fade. "You underestimate yourself, Morty Smith. Your intelligence has grown, and with it, your potential. The power you've discovered—the energy that flows between dimensions—has long been sought after by both the Conclave of Aeons and the Infinite Coil. It is a force of creation and destruction, and in the wrong hands, it could unravel the fabric of the multiverse."

The agent paused, his shimmering gaze fixed on Morty, as if measuring him. "You have shown a remarkable aptitude for tapping into this energy, but you lack control. You lack discipline. And that makes you vulnerable."

Morty's throat tightened. Vulnerable. That was exactly how he felt. He had thought he was growing stronger, becoming someone who could finally stand on his own, outside of Rick's shadow. But here he was, lying on the floor, completely at the mercy of forces he couldn't comprehend. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

The agent stood, his shimmering form beginning to fade as he prepared to leave. "The Infinite Coil will come for you again. They seek to use your knowledge for their own ends, and if they succeed, the consequences will be catastrophic."

Morty struggled to his feet, his body still shaky but his mind racing. "What do I do? How do I stop them?"

The agent paused, looking at Morty with what could have been sympathy—if such a being could feel emotions like that. "You will need guidance, but not from the one you expect."

Morty's brow furrowed in confusion. "Rick?"

The agent shook his head. "Rick Sanchez is brilliant, but reckless. His knowledge will not save you from what is to come. You will need to find another way. The Conclave of Aeons cannot intervene directly, but we will be watching."

Before Morty could respond, the agent's form flickered one last time, then vanished, leaving Morty alone in his shattered room. The silence was deafening. The air still crackled with residual energy, the smell of burnt ozone lingering in the air. Morty glanced around the room, his heart sinking as he took in the damage—the walls cracked, his hidden workshop exposed, and his inventions strewn across the floor.

He sank to his knees, his head in his hands. What had he gotten himself into? He had been so focused on outsmarting Rick, on proving himself, that he hadn't even considered the dangers lurking behind the power he was trying to control. And now, two secret organizations—one good, one evil—had him in their sights.

For the first time in a long while, Morty felt truly small.

He had been blinded by his own ambition, and now he was caught in the crossfire of a war that stretched across dimensions, a war that he didn't even understand. And worst of all, he was powerless to stop it. The Infinite Coil would come for him again, and when they did, he wouldn't stand a chance. Not without help.

But the agent's words echoed in his mind: "You will need guidance, but not from the one you expect."

Morty didn't know who the agent had meant, but one thing was clear—he couldn't face this alone. Not anymore.

With trembling hands, Morty reached for his tools, the weight of his mistakes pressing down on him. He had work to do. He needed to prepare. Because the next time the Infinite Coil came for him, he wouldn't be so helpless.

And this time, he couldn't rely on Rick to save him. He had to save himself.

But the question remained: How? And from whom would he find the guidance he so desperately needed?

As Morty stared at the damaged remnants of his hidden lab, he knew that whatever answers he found, they wouldn't come easy.

The battle was far from over.

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