American Comic Book: Odin's Son, with Fiancées All Over the Universe
Change Arthas to Arthas
Chapter 141: Breakfast Party
Watching this scene.
Standing not far away, Yelena pouted, feeling a bit upset.
It was clearly her who woke up first, and that big brother had clearly touched her head just now too.
How come Natasha just hugged him as soon as she arrived?
And she was hugging him so tightly, not letting go.
"Hmph."
"What's so great about that."
"All she knows is how to cry."
Although she said that, her eyes were fixed on Arthas.
Her gaze was full of envy, along with a hint of longing to take her place.
After comforting Natasha.
Arthas carried her down from the high platform.
Only then did Natasha realize how much she had lost her composure, her face turning as red as a big apple.
But she still couldn't bear to get down, instead burying her face in the crook of Arthas's neck, stealing glances at the envious and jealous looks around her.
Arthas walked into the midst of the girls.
"Alright, girls."
"Morning training is canceled."
"There is only one mission for today."
"And that is—to eat!"
He snapped his fingers.
"Follow me."
Leading this grand procession of little tails, he arrived at the base's cafeteria.
Usually, this cafeteria only served cold, hard bread and watery vegetable soup.
But today, Arthas walked up to those empty long tables and, with a wave of his hand, a golden light flashed.
The previously empty tables were instantly filled with all kinds of delicacies.
Those were things he had swiped from the Golden Palace's kitchen before leaving Asgard.
Another part consisted of Earth delicacies he had purchased while passing through a small town.
Golden-brown roasted whole chickens dripping with oil, richly aromatic macaroni and cheese, mountains of donuts, colorful fruit platters, and even Mead Jelly, a specialty of Asgard.
The aroma instantly filled the entire cafeteria.
It whetted the appetites of all the girls.
"Wow!"
"Is this... magic?"
"Is that a real chicken leg?"
"It smells so good..."
The girls' eyes widened, unable to believe everything before them.
In their memory, food had never been this abundant, nor had it ever smelled this good.
"What are you standing there for?"
Arthas placed Natasha on a chair.
He casually picked up a large chicken leg and stuffed it into her hand.
"Eat up."
"There's plenty."
"No need to snatch, no need to fight."
"Everything here is yours."
Hearing these words.
The girls could no longer restrain themselves; with a cheer, they lunged toward the dining tables.
Although they had been hungry for a long time, their long-term training allowed them to maintain a beast-like swiftness even while eating.
Only this time, there was none of that life-and-death bloody struggle, only pure joy.
Arthas sat at the head of the table, watching the children feasting heartily, an old-father-like smile appearing on his face.
Just then, he felt someone pulling on the corner of his clothes.
Turning his head, he saw the little blonde girl, Yelena.
She held a piece of cake, a bit of cream smeared on her face, and with a blushing face, she had somehow squeezed into the empty seat next to him.
"Big brother..."
"This... is for you to eat."
She held the piece of cake she had taken a bite of to Arthas's mouth.
Her eyes flickered, not daring to look at him.
Arthas was stunned for a moment, then laughed.
This little girl really knew how to play her cards.
He didn't mind and opened his mouth to take a bite of the cake.
"Mmm, it's really sweet."
"Thank you, little sister."
"What is your name?"
Hearing that Arthas ate her cake and even praised her, Yelena's little face turned red with excitement.
"My name is Yelena."
"Yelena Belova."
"I'm just as capable as Natasha!"
She didn't forget to add a sentence, casting a demonstrative glance at Natasha, who was gnawing on a chicken leg.
Natasha huffed, put down the chicken leg, and squeezed over as well.
"Big brother, I want to feed you too."
"No! This is my spot!"
"You already have a chicken leg!"
The two future top Agents began a new round of "war" just to feed Arthas.
Arthas helplessly pressed down on the two little girls' heads, stopping their fight.
Once everyone was mostly finished eating.
The girls rubbed their round bellies, slumped contentedly in their chairs.
At that moment, a bolder girl raised her hand and asked:
"Big brother."
"Who exactly are you?"
"Why can you fly? And even conjure up so much delicious food?"
"Are you a magician?"
This question voiced everyone's inner thoughts.
Dozens of pairs of eyes stared in unison at Arthas.
Arthas cleared his throat, stood up, and straightened his collar.
"*Cough, cough.*"
"Let me reintroduce myself. My name is Arthas Odinson."
"I come from distant Asgard."
"I am the Prince of that place."
"And also... a genuine 'god'."
"A god?"
The girls looked at each other and then burst into laughter.
"Liar!"
"How can there be gods in the world?"
"The Instructor said gods are all made up by people."
"Big brother must be telling fairy tales."
"But Asgard sounds so familiar, isn't it from norse mythology?"
Clearly, having grown up under a materialistic education, they didn't buy this claim at all.
Arthas raised an eyebrow.
"You don't believe me?"
"Then I'll open your eyes."
He extended his right hand, palm up, and the Divine Power of Light within him began to surge.
"Watch closely."
"This is... a miracle."
A ball of soft golden light condensed in his palm.
Then it spread rapidly; the light didn't dissipate but instead turned into countless glowing little butterflies, dancing gracefully in the cafeteria.
They flew over the girls' heads and landed on their shoulders, scattering bits of starlight as their wings flapped.
When those bits of starlight landed on them, they weren't cold; instead, they carried a warm heat.
"Wow!"
"So beautiful!"
"They're real butterflies!"
The girls exclaimed, reaching out to catch the light butterflies.
Arthas smiled slightly and flicked his finger.
The cafeteria's ceiling suddenly became transparent; the originally dim roof disappeared, replaced by a magnificent aurora—the colorful aurora unique to Asgard.
Green, purple, and blue bands of light flowed overhead, dreamlike and ethereal.
"This is the scenery of my hometown."
Arthas's voice sounded exceptionally ethereal under the aurora.
"Is it beautiful?"
"It's beautiful!"
The girls looked up, gazing at the beautiful scenery they had never seen in their lives.
The doubt in their eyes had long since vanished, replaced only by shock and adoration.
At this moment.
In their tiny hearts.
Arthas was no longer just a big brother who could perform magic.
But truly that omnipotent "god" who brought them light.
"Do you believe me now?"
Arthas withdrew the aurora.
He let a light butterfly land on the tip of Yelena's nose.
Making her giggle.
"We believe! We believe!"
"Big brother is a god!"
"I want to go to Asgard!"
The girls swarmed around him, some hugging his legs, others grabbing his hands.
They were completely captivated by Arthas's Divine Power and his good looks.
Arthas enjoyed this feeling of being adored.
He was secretly delighted.
"Sure enough, when dealing with little girls..."
"...this trick was more effective than any grand reasoning."
He patted Natasha and Yelena's heads.
Looking at this group of children who, despite having suffered, were still full of vitality.
The plan in his heart regarding an "Earth team" began to become clear.
"Don't worry."
"I will take you there."
Chapter 142: The Girls' New Life
The atmosphere in the cafeteria, as the last piece of cake was devoured, gradually shifted from revelry to a subtle silence.
The girls rubbed their round bellies, satisfied smiles on their faces.
But behind those smiles, a hint of unease still lingered; this meal was too good, so good it felt unreal.
They feared this was merely a last meal, or some kind of "reward" before even more brutal training.
After all, in the Red Room, there was no such thing as a free lunch. Even the handsome man who had turned the instructors into kneeling statues and conjured auroras for them couldn't completely erase the fear etched into their bones.
Arthas saw through their thoughts; he put down his teacup and lightly tapped the table.
The crisp sound made all the girls sit up straight, instinctively looking at him—a conditioned reflex from long-term training.
Arthas frowned; this reflex was exactly what he wanted to eliminate.
"Relax."
"No need to act like robots."
He waved his hand, signaling everyone to lean back in their chairs.
"Now that you're full, let's talk business."
Natasha sat beside him, still clutching the chicken bone she had gnawed clean.
"Business?"
She looked at Arthas.
"Are you going to take us away?"
"To that... Asgard?"
Although she really wanted to go, she knew it sounded too far away.
Besides, could a group like them really be accepted by that so-called "Divine Realm"?
Their hands were more or less stained with blood, or they had been trained to stain them.
Arthas shook his head, stood up, and walked among the girls.
"No."
"Not to Asgard."
"At least not for now."
He paused, his tone becoming serious and earnest.
"I know what you're worried about."
"You're wondering if you've been sold to another organization."
"If you're going to be turned into another kind of weapon."
"Or... if you'll be silenced because you know too much."
Some girls lowered their heads, clearly having their thoughts read.
Arthas sighed.
"Listen."
"You are indeed different from ordinary children."
"You've undergone the most brutal training; your bodies, your wills, even your instincts have been altered."
"If I were to throw you directly back into ordinary society now, into an ordinary orphanage or foster home..."
"...that would be harming you, and harming those who adopt you."
"Because you are a group of... little lions who have seen Hell."
"Once provoked, your claws will hurt others, and they will hurt yourselves."
"So."
"I'm going to... teach you according to your individual needs."
He knelt down in front of Natasha, looking into her eyes.
"In this world, instead of trusting others to protect you, it's better to trust yourself."
"Only the power in your own hands is truly real."
"I think you understand this better than anyone."
Natasha nodded; this was indeed the only truth she had learned in the Red Room.
"So you don't need to discard your martial arts or forget those skills."
"On the contrary."
"You should continue to strengthen yourselves."
"Not just combat and killing techniques as Agents."
"But also learn many more things."
"Languages, art, science, history..."
"Then... do we still have to be Agents?"
Yelena asked cautiously.
"Do we still have to kill people?"
Arthas patted her head.
"That depends on you."
"My purpose in coming to Earth is to become the world's Guardian."
"I also need helpers, eyes, and ears."
"If, when you grow up, you are willing to help me, willing to stand by my side..."
"...then you will be my Agents, my warriors."
"But the prerequisite is—"
He emphasized his tone.
"...that it is your own choice."
"If you don't want to be Agents, and want to be Doctors, painters, or housewives."
"Or even want to travel the world."
"You can."
"I give you the right to choose."
"Really?"
A girl with a ponytail asked in disbelief.
"Can we... really choose our own lives?"
In the Red Room, "choice" was a luxury, even a taboo word.
Their fates were written from the moment they entered: either become a Black Widow, or die.
Arthas smiled.
"Of course, I am a god."
"If God says you can, you can."
"However..."
He changed the subject.
"That's all for when you grow up."
"Right now, you're just a bunch of kids who haven't grown up yet."
"You have only one task now."
"And that is—to go to school."
"To have a normal, perfect childhood."
"To study, make friends, and eat delicious food."
"To make up for everything you've missed these past few years."
"Go to school?"
The girls looked at each other; this word was more foreign to them than killing.
"But... where is there a school here?"
Natasha pointed out the window at the ice and snow; there was nothing but snow and wolves.
"Of course there isn't one here."
Arthas stood up and looked toward the west.
"I'm going to take you to the United States."
"Although that place is a bit messy right now, at least there's no war on the mainland."
"And there are the best schools and the most prosperous cities there."
"It's the most suitable place for you to survive and blend in."
"The United States?"
"Is that... the stronghold of capitalism we learned about in geography class?"
Yelena blinked her eyes.
"I heard people there drink Coke and eat hamburgers every day."
"What's a hamburger?"
A girl nearby asked.
"It must be delicious."
Yelena swallowed; clearly, the cake from earlier hadn't completely filled her stomach.
Arthas watched them discuss "hamburgers."
He became even more determined in his plan.
"As for the matter of money."
"You don't have to worry at all."
"Money is the thing I lack the least."
The floors of Asgard's Golden Palace are paved with gold; he could just swipe a few gems from the vault. He really didn't lack money.
"When the time comes, I'll arrange the best private schools for you."
"I'll buy you the biggest house."
"And hire the best teachers."
"All you need to do is focus on being little girls again."
The girls cheered.
Although the unknown United States was still foreign to them.
But as long as they could leave this place and follow Arthas, anywhere would feel like Heaven.
After comforting these future flowers...
Arthas let them rest in the cafeteria first, then turned and walked out. The smile on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a cold killing intent.
"We'll talk about school later."
"Now."
"It's time to deal with this dump."
He walked straight toward the Red Room's command center.
Along the way.
The guards and technicians who should have been at their posts...
...still remained in a kneeling position, motionless, like a group of dolls whose time had been paused.
Arthas didn't give them a single glance as he pushed open the door to the Commander's Office.
Chapter 143: The Rebirth of the Red Room
Dreykov, the man who single-handedly created the Red Room.
At this moment, he was kneeling in front of his desk, facing the map on the wall, his eyes vacant, and saliva trickling down the corner of his mouth.
Arthas walked to the chair that represented supreme power and sat down, crossing his legs as he looked at the culprit before him.
"Dreykov."
"You are quite the talent."
"To be able to come up with a plan like the 'Black Widow' and build such a vast intelligence network."
"A pity."
"Your heart is too black."
"And, you chose the wrong object of loyalty."
He snapped his fingers, lifting a small portion of the Restriction on Dreykov, restoring his ability to speak, though his body remained unable to move.
"Who... who are you?!"
"What did you do to me?!"
Dreykov shouted in terror.
He only remembered reading a report when a sudden sharp pain hit his brain, and then he knew nothing more.
He woke up to see this strange man sitting in his seat.
"Who I am is not important,"
Arthas said indifferently.
"What matters is,"
"Starting today, the Red Room has a new owner."
"You're dreaming! This is the Soviet Union's highest secret!"
"Do you think you can control this place?"
"With just one command from me..."
"A command?"
Arthas smiled and pointed out the window.
"Your people are all kneeling outside right now."
"And,"
"I think your 'purpose' is garbage."
"All for control, all for power."
"Too low-class."
"A structure like the Red Room, a network like this."
"It actually has some use if kept; it would be a bit of a waste to destroy it."
"So I've decided to keep it."
Arthas stood up, walked over to Dreykov, and placed his hand on top of his head.
"But, I'm going to give it a new 'core'."
"The old Red Room was a factory for creating monsters."
"The current Red Room,"
"Will be loyal only to me."
"It will become my eyes, my ears, my dagger."
"No longer for some country or some ideology."
"Only for... protection."
Powerful Mental Strength flooded into Dreykov's brain, different from the previous crude control.
This time, Arthas was performing a complete 'rewrite'.
He erased all of Dreykov's memories regarding ambition and brutality.
He implanted absolute loyalty and a new set of operating principles.
Not just Dreykov—that Mental Strength instantly covered the entire base.
Every instructor, technician, and guard kneeling outside shuddered at the same time.
Those who originally had fierce eyes and minds full of murderous thoughts gradually lost their hostility.
In its place was a fanatical worship—a worship of Arthas, as if they were facing a deity.
"Destroy all records regarding the sterilization surgeries."
"Burn all the brainwashing videotapes."
"Throw all the torture devices into the furnace."
Arthas issued his first command.
His voice spread through the intercom to every corner of the base.
"Yes! Your Highness!"
The unified response echoed through the sky.
Dreykov climbed up from the ground.
At this moment, he no longer possessed his former arrogance or fear.
He stood respectfully by Arthas's side, like a most loyal old butler.
"Your Highness."
"What are your further instructions?"
"Regarding those candidates who haven't been selected yet..."
"Stop recruitment."
Arthas said coldly.
"I will take the existing children with me."
"From now on, the Red Room will no longer recruit young children for Agent training."
"Your mission."
"Will shift to pure intelligence gathering and infiltration."
"I want to know everything that happens in this world."
"Especially news regarding 'Hydra' and 'Superhumans'."
"Understand?"
"Understood, Your Highness."
Dreykov immediately took note.
"We will immediately adjust the global intelligence network."
"Redeploy Agents."
"And shift our focus to the targets you have specified."
"Very good."
Arthas sat back in the chair.
Looking at this office that once represented evil, it was now his possession, although the methods were... not entirely honorable.
But for an organization that was inherently evil itself,
Arthas had no psychological burden; evil people need to be ground down by even worse people, not to mention he was a god—this was Divine Punishment, and also salvation.
After handling the affairs of the base,
Arthas sent the brainwashed instructors and high-ranking officials off to work, while he himself returned to the cafeteria.
The girls were waiting for him anxiously; seeing him return,
Natasha was the first to rush up.
"How is it?"
"Is it settled?"
"What about those bad people?"
Arthas smiled and picked her up.
"It's settled."
"The bad people have become 'obedient people'."
"They will work for us, make money for us, and gather information for us from now on."
"But they won't hurt you anymore."
"Then can we leave now?"
Yelena pulled his hand, her face full of anticipation.
"Of course, pack your things."
"Though there isn't much here worth taking."
"Except for those few changes of clothes, throw everything else away."
"Once we get to the United States,"
"I'll buy you new ones."
"A whole new set."
The girls cheered with joy.
They all ran back to the dormitory to grab their few personal belongings.
Arthas stood in the wind and snow.
Looking at this group of children about to regain their lives, he glanced back at the massive base that had already changed hands.
A satisfied curve tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"The first step is complete."
"Although it was a bit unexpected,"
"I've gained an intelligence organization and a group of future top-tier Agents."
"This deal isn't a loss."
Ten minutes later.
The girls, carrying small bags, lined up and stood before Arthas.
Every face beamed with a radiance they had never had before.
"Are you ready?"
Arthas asked.
"Ready! Your Highness!"
The girls answered in unison.
This time there was no fear, only trust.
"Good."
Arthas raised his hand to activate a Portal.
A huge, shimmering golden Portal opened on the snow.
On the other side of the door,
It wasn't ice and snow, but warm sunlight and green grass.
"Let's go."
"Go welcome your new lives."
Arthas took the lead and stepped into the Portal.
Natasha and Yelena followed closely behind him, and the other girls filed in as well.
As the last girl disappeared into the light,
The Portal slowly closed.
On the Siberian tundra,
Only the still-standing Red Room remained.
From the outside, it looked no different than before.
Still cold, still austere.
But its core had undergone an Earth-shaking transformation.
From this moment on, it was no longer a secret weapon of the Soviet Union.
It was a sharp blade planted on Earth by Asgardian Prince Arthas Odinson, a blade that swung only for him.
Chapter 144: The Plan
Long Island, New York. The early summer sun, carrying a hint of laziness, spilled across the sea, creating layers of shimmering golden ripples.
This place was far from the smoke of the European battlefields, and lacked the crowding and noise of Brooklyn.
There was only the sound of waves crashing against the rocks and the occasional cry of a passing seagull.
Dawn Manor.
This luxury mansion, which had just changed hands, was currently bathed in the tranquility of the afternoon.
The massive wrought-iron gates stood open, and a path paved with white gravel wound its way toward the main building.
On either side were neatly trimmed shrubs, with blooming hydrangeas swaying gently in the breeze.
"Hahaha! Yelena! You're cheating!"
"I am not! You're just running too slowly!"
Crisp laughter broke the silence of the garden.
Two little girls in exquisite floral dresses were chasing each other on the lawn.
Natasha's red hair looked like a dancing flame in the sunlight as she tightly held a well-made doll.
Yelena was desperately chasing behind with her short legs, her little blonde braids swinging with every movement.
Their faces were filled with the innocent smiles appropriate for their age.
It was impossible to tell that just a few days ago, they were "Agent trainees" fighting for survival on the Siberian ice fields.
In front of the floor-to-ceiling window on the second floor.
Arthas held a cup of freshly brewed Earl Grey tea, the steam rising with the scent of bergamot.
He wore a soft white silk shirt, the collar slightly open to reveal his elegant collarbones.
His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, making him look casual and relaxed.
As he watched the two little girls running wildly below, his gaze softened.
"This is the life."
"Forget the Red Room, forget being Agents."
"Children should act like children."
"As long as I'm here, the sky won't fall."
He took a small sip of the Earl Grey, feeling the warm liquid slide down his throat.
Then he turned and walked toward the massive mahogany desk that occupied the center of the office.
The desktop wasn't piled with stock reports or property deeds like those of ordinary wealthy men.
Instead, there was a scattered pile of dossiers that looked somewhat old, some even stained with blood.
The seals were stamped with red "Top Secret" marks.
That was the latest intelligence just delivered by the Red Room's information network.
Even from half a world away, Dreykov faithfully fulfilled his duty—acting as Arthas's eyes and ears in this world.
Arthas casually picked up one and pulled out the photo inside.
The photo was black and white and very grainy, clearly taken covertly from a very close range.
In the frame.
A man wearing the uniform of a high-ranking SS officer was standing in a massive laboratory.
His face...
Or rather, it couldn't even be called a face.
The skin was a bizarre vivid red, looking like muscle tissue with the epidermis stripped away.
There was no nose, only two dark holes for nostrils.
On that skull-like head, a pair of deep-set eyes flickered with a fanatical and cruel light.
"Johann Schmidt..."
"Or should I call you... Red Skull."
Arthas's finger lightly tapped the man's face in the photo.
Making a "tap, tap" sound.
"The leader of Hydra."
"Head of Nazis Germany's Special Weapons Division."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk."
"This guy's appearance is truly... unique."
He put down the photo and picked up another document.
It was a detailed report on the "Super Soldier Project."
Although most of the data was redacted, the core content remained clearly visible.
—By injecting a certain special serum and combining it with exposure to "Vita-Rays."
—To fundamentally alter the human genetic sequence.
—Enhancing muscle density, bone strength, and neural reflex speed.
—Creating a "perfect soldier" that transcends human limits.
"Perfect soldier?"
A playful curve formed at the corner of Arthas's mouth.
It even carried a trace of a disdainful sneer.
"Mortals are always like this."
"Always deluded into thinking they can master power they cannot control through external means."
"Like that Red Skull who wants to use the Space Stone to rule the world."
"Or this U.S. the military that wants to mass-produce Supermen."
"Isn't this just another arms race?"
"Just like when Ares sowed discord back then."
"Except this time, there's no need for the God of War to push from behind."
"Humans are pushing themselves into the fire."
"For so-called victory, for so-called peace."
"Creating weapons capable of destroying themselves."
He stood up and walked to the massive world map on the wall.
His gaze drifted between Europe and the United States.
"Doctor Erskine..."
"The key figure of this project."
"Because he opposed the Nazis ideology of ethnic cleansing, he fled to the United States with the formula."
"He is now in Brooklyn, New York."
"And Hydra's assassins have probably already followed him."
"Interesting."
"Quite a show."
Arthas stretched.
Although he wasn't interested in Mortal wars.
And had no desire to be some kind of savior.
But his beautiful teacher, the Ancient One, had thrown him here to handle these matters and learn how to protect humanity in order to inherit the mantle of the Sorcerer Supreme.
And that old geezer Odin had once again dumped his own mess onto him.
He couldn't really just stay in this manor and babysit, could he?
And...
If Red Skull truly mastered the power of the Infinity Stones, or if this world became filled with uncontrollable super soldiers.
That would be a problem for him and the world; after all, ambitious people always try to control power beyond their grasp, only to meet destruction in the end.
"It seems."
"I'll have to find time to meet this Doctor Erskine."
"And that... Steve Rogers."
"The intelligence says he is Doctor Erskine's most favored experimental subject."
"A... physically weak, even asthmatic, poor kid from Brooklyn?"
"Heh."
"That eye for selection is certainly unique."
Just as he was calculating his next move—whether to directly "invite" Doctor Erskine over for tea or to see what was so special about Steve Rogers—
"Click, click, click..."
A series of crisp sounds.
Abruptly broke the silence in the office.
It wasn't a hurried set of footsteps.
Nor was it the heavy thud of combat boots.
But rather...
A highly rhythmic sound that seemed to strike the heartstrings with every step.
It was the sound of high heels on the hardwood floor, the kind with very high, thin heels.
The sound came from the end of the hallway.
Getting closer and closer, clearer and clearer.
Accompanied by.
A faint yet extremely penetrating fragrance.
It wasn't the cloying floral scent from the manor's garden, nor the bergamot from the Earl Grey in Arthas's hand.
It was a mixture of the crispness of a sea breeze, the spiciness of bay leaves, and some expensive, mysterious high-end perfume.
Chapter 145: The Amazon Queen's Husband-Hunting Chronicles
This scent...
Caused Arthas's originally nonchalant expression to instantly freeze on his face.
He snapped his head around, looking toward that heavy oak door carved with intricate patterns.
"This scent..."
"Why does it seem a bit familiar?"
"And these footsteps..."
"Natasha and the others wear flat leather shoes."
"The maids in the manor wouldn't dare walk around the second floor in high heels this high."
"Could it be..."
A bold, even spine-chilling conjecture...
...surfaced in his mind before he could even fully react.
*Click.*
The sound of a door lock turning.
There was no knock, nor any inquiry.
That large door, as if pushed by an invisible force, slowly opened inward.
Sunlight squeezed through the crack of the door.
In that golden light and shadow, a tall, graceful, and oppressive figure appeared at the doorway.
The teacup in Arthas's hand wobbled, and a few drops of tea splashed out, landing on the back of his hand.
But he didn't care to wipe it at all, just stared wide-eyed at that figure, even forgetting to breathe.
"Holy..."
"Who... is this?"
It wasn't that Arthas was unobservant.
It was just that the outfit of the person before him was too different from the image in his memory.
Even...
...subversive.
Standing at the door...
...was a woman with a thick mane of blonde hair like a waterfall.
Her hair wasn't tied up in a complex bun as usual, nor was she wearing the golden crown that symbolized her queenly power.
Instead, it was draped casually over her shoulders, the ends slightly curled, carrying a hint of laziness and nonchalance.
She wore a pair of large black sunglasses that covered nearly half her face, revealing only her full lips painted with fiery red lipstick and her long, fair, elegantly lined neck.
She wasn't wearing that glittering, hardcore-looking Amazon Armor, nor was she carrying a shield and a longsword.
In its place was an outfit with a very modern, even somewhat retro-modern flair.
A well-tailored beige trench coat was left open, revealing a black tight-fitting bodysuit dress underneath.
The fabric of the dress seemed very elastic, tightly wrapping around her full, mature, and feminine curves.
Her high chest, slender waist, and broad, rounded hips were outlined to perfection.
The hem of the dress was short, barely covering the base of her thighs.
And those...
...those legs that almost made Arthas's eyes pop out...
...long, straight, firm yet soft legs were tightly and unreservedly wrapped in a pair of flesh-colored Stockingsthat shimmered with a delicate oily sheen.
The texture of the Stockings was excellent, reflecting a charming, pearl-like warm luster under the sunlight streaming in from the window.
Every undulation of muscle and every inch of skin texture was made even more perfect by this thin layer of nylon.
On her feet, she wore a pair of black red-bottomed high heels.
The heels were very high, at least ten centimeters.
Those thin heels supported her tall body, causing her insteps to pull into an enticing arch.
They also caused her tight calf muscles to tense slightly, full of explosive power and fatal allure.
*Gulp.*
Arthas clearly heard the sound of his own swallowing.
In this silent office...
...it sounded exceptionally loud.
This...
...is a bit too stimulating, isn't it?
Was this still the majestic and inviolable Amazon QueenHippolyta who commanded the winds and clouds on Paradise Island?
She was practically a modern girl who walked straight out of a fashion magazine!
And the kind that...
...had an aura two meters tall and was clearly a powerful big sister figure not to be trifled with.
The woman seemed very satisfied with Arthas's dazed expression.
The corners of her mouth curled up slightly into a half-smile.
She raised her hand, her fingers painted with red nail polish gently pinching the temples of her sunglasses.
She slowly took them off.
Revealing deep, mysterious violet eyes with a hint of playfulness.
And a hint of...
...a dangerous signal that made Arthas's spine tingle.
"What?"
She spoke.
Her voice was low and magnetic.
Carrying the natural majesty of a superior.
"Don't recognize your Big Sister anymore?"
She closed the door casually, tossed her sunglasses onto the vintage coat rack by the door, and then walked toward Arthas with an elegant catwalk.
"Click, clack, click..."
The sound of high heels clicking against the floor rang out again.
This time, every step seemed to beat against Arthas's heart.
Those beautiful legs in Stockings swayed alternately before Arthas's eyes, the flesh-colored luster making him feel a bit dizzy.
"Or is it..."
Hippolyta walked up to the desk.
She leaned forward, resting her hands on the desk, revealing a deep cleavage.
That scent, a mix of perfume and body fragrance, instantly filled all of Arthas's senses.
"...that you didn't want Big Sister to come?"
"No... not at all!"
Arthas acted as if he'd been electrocuted.
He suddenly sprang up from his chair.
He almost threw the teacup in his hand.
"I... I'm just... so surprised!"
"Hi... Big Sister Hippolyta?"
"How did you end up here?"
"Is everything... okay back on Paradise Island?"
"And..."
He couldn't help but steal another glance at those beautiful Stockings-clad legs right in front of him.
They really looked supple.
He really wanted to touch them.
"This outfit..."
"...is just... too beautiful!"
Although he was a bit panicked, his survival instinct made him instinctively switch to flattery mode.
"Humph."
Hippolyta gave a soft snort, seemingly satisfied with the answer.
She walked around the desk, but didn't sit in the chair opposite him.
Instead, she directly...
...sat on the corner of Arthas's desk.
It was an extremely ambiguous and aggressive posture.
One leg hung down casually while the other was elegantly crossed over it.
Her foot in the red-bottomed high heel swayed gently by Arthas's waist.
The tip of the shoe brushed against his pant leg from time to time, making a faint rustling sound.
"Beautiful?"
She arched an eyebrow.
"If I didn't dress like this, how would I blend into this city full of 'civilized people'?"
"As for you."
She extended a finger.
Her perfectly manicured, rounded fingertip lightly poked Arthas's chest.
"You boy."
"You've got quite some nerve."
"If I didn't come looking for you, would I have to wait for you to come looking for me?"
"Someone is quite the busy man."
"Having a grand old time in Asgard."
"Not only did you handle Hela, that Goddess of Death..."
"...but I heard..."
"...you also rounded up that whole nest of goddesses from Olympus?"
"You didn't even spare Queen Hera, who's known for being difficult?"
"Tsk, tsk, tsk."
Her finger slid up from Arthas's chest, finally resting on his chin and tilting it up slightly.
"Your appetite..."
"...is it a bit too large?"
"Are you trying to move the entirety of Greek mythology back to your home?"
Chapter 146: Coming to Settle the Score
Arthas was poked repeatedly, retreating until his back was almost pressed against the bookshelf behind him.
Cold sweat poured down his face.
Had the news really spread this fast?
As expected, the gossip network between goddesses moved at the speed of light.
And...
This was no family visit.
She was clearly here to "settle the score"!
"Um... Sister, let me explain."
"That was for... for world peace!"
"You know, Olympus was a mess over there. Dark forces were invading. If I hadn't taken them away, they would have been swallowed by the darkness."
"I did it for the greater good!"
"Really!"
He spoke with an air of righteousness.
He tried to use his sincere—though currently flickering—large eyes to move the Amazon Queen before him.
"The greater good?"
Hippolyta raised an eyebrow, the smile in her eyes deepening.
But it was the kind of smile that made Arthas feel a sense of danger.
Suddenly, she made her move.
Her movements were so fast that Arthas couldn't react at all.
She grabbed Arthas's left ear.
The strength wasn't immense.
But that twisting sensation, combined with a slight pinch from her fingernails...
...was enough to make him feel the pain.
"For the greater good, you married them all?"
"For the greater good, you held parties there every night?"
"For the greater good, you handed out the ring of vows like they were wholesale trinkets?"
"Do you think I'm deaf?"
"That big mouth Hera already told me all about your 'heroic deeds' over there just to show off to me."
"Something about seven times in one night."
"Something about a king of the gods mode."
"Something about locking the Amora sisters in a dungeon for some confinement play."
"Hmm?"
She increased the pressure on his ear slightly.
"Tell me."
"How should I reward a hero like you who sacrificed himself for the 'greater good'?"
"Ow, ow, ow..."
Arthas tilted his head, following her pull to beg for mercy.
"Sister, go easy! My ear is going to fall off!"
"Those are rumors! Absolute rumors!"
"Hera is exaggerating!"
"She just wants to make you angry!"
"I... I'm a victim too!"
"I was forced!"
"Really!"
Hippolyta didn't let go; instead, she leaned her face even closer.
That stunningly beautiful face enlarged before Arthas's eyes, to the point where he could see the fine peach fuzz on her skin.
Her warm breath, carrying that enchanting fragrance...
...sprayed across Arthas's face, carrying a sense of...
...heart-pounding intimacy.
"A victim?"
"It looks to me like you were enjoying yourself."
She narrowed her eyes.
Her gaze swept over Arthas.
From his eyes to his lips, and then to his slightly open collar.
"However."
"Considering you helped Diana complete her trial and saved Olympus along the way."
"I won't hold it against you this time."
She released her grip and instead gently caressed the spot she had just pinched red.
Her movements were as tender as if she were stroking a kitten.
The transition from pain to a tingling sensation made Arthas shudder.
"Originally."
Hippolyta's voice became somewhat low.
It carried a hint of raspiness.
It was a voice that only appeared in extremely private situations.
"I was thinking."
"That after you helped Diana finish her trial."
"You would come to Paradise Island to see me."
"I even prepared a... special reward for you."
Her fingers slid down the curve of Arthas's ear, tracing across his neck.
Then she lightly drew circles on his collarbone.
"What a pity."
"Someone doesn't have this sister in his heart at all."
"He only cares about fooling around with new lovers."
"He's not even willing to... even just take a look for my sake."
Her tone carried a hint of resentment.
But more than that, it was a kind of...
...seduction.
Arthas's heart skipped a beat.
A special reward?
He looked at Hippolyta's outfit.
Various indescribable images instantly flooded his mind.
The Amazon Queen...
...wearing this...
...giving him a reward?
Who could possibly resist that!
"I... I'm being framed!"
"It's not that... I just arrived in the United States and wanted to settle things here first before going to pick you up."
"And here... there are these children."
"I can't just leave."
"I've always had you in my heart, Sister!"
"Really!"
He raised his hand and swore solemnly.
He wished he could pull his heart out to show her.
"Enough."
"A man's words are as deceitful as ghosts."
Hippolyta gave him a playful glare.
But the smile at the corner of her mouth betrayed her.
Clearly, Arthas's nervous and fawning appearance...
...pleased her. She hopped down from the desk.
She straightened her slightly shifted hemline.
The movement was elegant and composed.
Those Stockings-clad legs displayed their charm before Arthas once again.
"Since you won't come."
"Then I'll just have to come myself."
"Anyway, Antiope is watching over Paradise Island, so nothing will go wrong."
"And..."
She walked to the window.
She watched Natasha and Yelena playing outside.
"I also wanted to come and see."
"See what's so good about this 'human world' that makes you so reluctant to leave."
"Also..."
"Those children..."
"Where did you pick them up from?"
"They don't... look like ordinary children."
As the Amazon Queen...
...her eyes were naturally sharp.
She saw at a glance the marks left on Natasha and the others by brutal training.
That instinct to subconsciously remain alert even while playing.
Arthas walked over and stood side-by-side with her.
Looking out the window.
"They were rescued from a place called the 'Red Room'."
"A group of poor children trained to be weapons."
"Stripped of their childhood and turned into killing machines."
"I didn't like that."
"So I took that place down."
"I plan to adopt them and give them a normal home."
"Let them... become ordinary people again."
Hippolyta nodded and turned to look at Arthas's profile, her eyes showing a hint of admiration.
And also a hint of...
...a tenderness that even she herself hadn't noticed.
"Hmm."
"That does sound like something you would do."
"Though you're a bit of a playboy and a bit lecherous."
"Your heart isn't bad."
"You're a... responsible man."
"However."
She changed the subject.
"Just having a home isn't enough."
"Since these children have talent and good physical foundations."
"It shouldn't go to waste."
"If needed."
"I can teach them."
"Amazon fighting techniques should be much better than those messy human training methods."
"And..."
"As your 'adopted daughters'."
"If they don't even have the ability to protect themselves."
"Wouldn't that lose face for our Divine Race?"
Arthas's eyes lit up.
"Really?"
"That's great!"
"To be personally taught by the Queen herself—it's their honor!"
This was a huge stroke of luck.
Amazon Martial Techniques were at the God-level. If they could be passed on to Natasha and the others, those young girls' combat power would absolutely skyrocket.
Even against Super Soldier, they could probably hold their own, right?
"Thank you, Sister!"
He excitedly tried to hug Hippolyta.
"Less flattery."
Hippolyta extended a single finger.
She pressed it against his chest, pushing him back a little.
A cunning smile appeared on her face.
"I haven't agreed yet."
"I'm not teaching for free."
"Let's see how you perform."
Chapter 147: The Amazon Queen's Punishment
She reached out, hooked Arthas's tie, and gave it a gentle tug, pulling his face toward hers.
The distance between them instantly shrank to only a few centimeters, to the point they could feel each other's breath intermingling.
"Performance?"
"What performance?"
Arthas swallowed hard.
He looked at those crimson lips so close at hand, and those purple eyes that seemed capable of drawing a person in.
Smelling the alluring fragrance wafting from her body, his brain began to feel a bit oxygen-deprived.
"What do you think?"
Hippolyta smiled faintly, her long legs clad in glossy Stockings.
She reached out slightly with a foot, brushing against Arthas's calf; an electric, tingling sensation instantly spread through his entire body.
"I came all this way."
"Wearing these damned high heels."
"My legs are sore."
"Shouldn't you..."
Her voice became deeper, more seductive.
"...give your big sister a massage?"
Arthas felt the string in his mind named 'reason'...
...snap with a loud 'twang'.
Since the Queen My Lord had said so herself,
What reason did he have to be polite?
He grabbed Hippolyta's wrist with one hand and wrapped the other around her slender yet resilient waist.
Where his hand landed felt warm and soft.
"Of course!"
"Absolutely!"
"It's my honor to serve you, sister!"
"Then..."
"Shall we go to the sofa over there?"
Hippolyta didn't resist; instead, she leaned into his embrace and pointed to the large leather sofa in the corner of the office.
Her gaze held a hint of laziness, as well as a trace of anticipation.
"Or... back to the room?"
Arthas asked in a low voice, his tone a bit raspy.
"No need."
"Right here."
Hippolyta blew a breath into his ear.
"I want to see."
"How you will... punish your sister for coming uninvited."
"Or rather..."
"How you will 'reward' your sister for... dressing like this?"
Arthas could no longer hold back.
He scooped Hippolyta up and strode toward the sofa.
Hippolyta hooked her arms around his neck, her long legs clamping tightly around his waist, her high heels dangling in the air and tracing an alluring arc.
Placing Hippolyta on the sofa, Arthas looked at the enchanting beauty before him.
That open trench coat, that tight miniskirt, and those shimmering Stockings.
Every detail challenged his sanity.
"Sister."
"You brought this on yourself."
"Don't blame me for... being impolite."
He knelt on one knee on the sofa.
His hands moved onto those beautiful legs in Stockingsthat he had coveted for a long time.
Starting from the ankles, he followed those perfect curves.
Moving slowly upward...
His hands covered her long legs, which were wrapped in flesh-colored glossy Stockings.
The sensation under his palms was delicate and warm.
The smooth fabric of the Stockings slid over Hippolyta's tight muscles with his movements.
It made a faint friction sound.
"Mmm..."
Hippolyta leaned back against the sofa.
Closing her eyes, she let out a low moan.
Her toes were pointed straight.
Those black, red-bottomed high heels had long since been kicked aside.
Her arches curved slightly under the pressure of Arthas's fingertips, presenting an extremely taut arc.
Through that thin layer of nylon, the faint blue veins on her instep were vaguely visible.
Arthas's technique wasn't particularly professional.
But he had quietly attached a trace of the Divine Power of Love to his fingertips.
That warmth, carrying a weak electric current, penetrated deep into the muscles.
It relieved the soreness from wearing high heels for so long, and also ignited a certain flame hidden in her bloodline.
His hand followed the beautifully lined calf, slid past the rounded knee, and reached the thigh.
It was fuller and softer here.
His fingers pressed down.
The layer of springy muscle would indent slightly and then quickly snap back.
Arthas's breathing began to grow heavy as his gaze followed his moving fingers.
He drifted over that shimmering Domain of absolute beauty.
Higher and higher.
Getting closer and closer to that forbidden zone that could drive a man mad.
Hippolyta's chest began to heave violently.
That tight black bodysuit could almost no longer contain her bursting fullness.
With every breath she took,
That deep cleavage flickered in and out of view.
An unnatural flush rose to her face, fine beads of sweat broke out on her forehead, and a few strands of blonde hair stuck to her cheeks, making her look exceptionally charming.
She bit her lower lip, trying to suppress the sounds about to overflow from her throat.
Arthas watched this scene.
The string in his mind named 'reason' finally snapped completely.
To hell with mother-in-laws.
To hell with queens.
At this moment, in his eyes,
She was just an enchanting woman waiting for him to pluck her.
His hands were no longer satisfied with massaging her thighs.
Instead, he moved upward.
He slid past the edge of the skirt's hem.
He reached straight for that violently heaving chest.
Snap!
A crisp sound rang out.
Just a second before Arthas's hand could touch that softness,
A hand intercepted him mid-air.
It slapped the back of his hand hard.
The force was so great that the back of Arthas's hand instantly turned red.
Hippolyta suddenly opened her eyes.
Those purple eyes, which had been hazy,
Still held a trace of moisture now,
But they were filled more with a sober sharpness and a hint of bashful annoyance.
She grabbed Arthas's wandering hand and shoved it away with force.
"What are you thinking?"
Though her voice was still a bit shaky, her tone had regained the majesty of a Queen.
She sat up straight and straightened her somewhat disheveled collar.
Her eyes stared fixedly at Arthas, filled with scrutiny and warning.
"I am Diana's mother."
"I am your elder."
"And your mother-in-law."
"You little rascal."
"What exactly were you trying to do to your own mother-in-law?"
Arthas's hand froze in mid-air.
An awkward yet polite smile appeared on his face.
Cold sweat trickled down his forehead.
Damn, he'd overplayed his hand.
The atmosphere just now...
...she clearly hinted at it herself!
How did she suddenly flip the script?
This is what they call...
The magistrate can set fires, but the commoners can't even light a lamp?
"Um..."
"Big sister..."
"I... I just couldn't help myself."
"It's because you're... too charming, sister."
"I just couldn't hold back for a moment..."
He tried to use flattery to ease the awkward atmosphere.
"Hmph."
Hippolyta gave a cold snort.
She stood up, picked up her high heels from the floor, and put them on.
She straightened the hem of her trench coat and smoothed her skirt.
She covered those beautiful legs in Stockings that Arthashad been playing with just moments ago.
"Now you know how to behave and call me sister?"
"Where was that attitude earlier?"
She walked to the desk and picked up her sunglasses.
She twirled them in her hand but didn't put them on; instead, she turned around and leaned against the edge of the desk.
She looked at Arthas, who was still kneeling by the sofa with an innocent face.
A flicker of playfulness flashed in her eyes.
"If, after you helped Diana complete her trial,"
"You had come to find me immediately,"
"Instead of running off to fool around with those little vixens from Olympus,"
"Perhaps..."
She paused.
Her eyes scanned over Arthas's body.
Finally, they lingered on a certain somewhat awkward part of him.
"The reward really would have been this."
Chapter 148: Don't Tell Diana About These Things
Arthas felt such regret in his heart that he wanted to give himself two slaps.
Although Olympus had more goddesses, Arthas was an adult; he wanted them all.
"Sister!"
"Is it too late for me to turn over a new leaf now?"
"In the future, I will definitely come to you first, Sister!"
"I'll go wherever you point, Sister!"
"I won't even spare a glance at another woman!"
He held up three fingers, swearing a solemn oath.
"Enough."
"Save that routine."
Hippolyta gave him a White look.
But she was clearly quite pleased with this statement.
"As for now..."
"Hmph."
"I need to see your sincerity."
"Talking is useless; I need to see action."
Arthas quickly scrambled up from the floor.
He ran behind the desk and pulled out the executive chair.
He diligently wiped away non-existent dust.
"Sister, please sit!"
"Sister, have some tea!"
"Sister, if you have any orders, just say the word!"
"As long as Arthas can do it,"
"I will go through Water and Fire without hesitation!"
Flattery tumbled out of his mouth as if it cost nothing.
Hippolyta did not sit down; instead, she walked to the window and looked down at the lawn below.
Natasha and Yelena were playing hide-and-seek with a maid.
The children's laughter drifted up faintly.
Her gaze softened slightly.
"Since I've come, I can't have come for nothing."
"For the time being, I'm going to stay here for a while."
"Arrange a room for me."
"Preferably somewhere quiet."
"And not... too far from your room."
As she said the last part,
her voice lowered a bit.
Hearing this, Arthas was overjoyed.
This was simply a windfall from the heavens!
The Queen was moving in.
Not only did the house gain a super bodyguard,
but also...
being close to the action meant getting the advantage.
Although she was in 'mother-in-law mode' now,
who knew when she might switch to'sister mode' or even 'reward mode'?
"No problem!"
"Absolutely no problem!"
"The Master bedroom on the third floor with the large terrace was reserved for you, Sister!"
"It has great lighting and a great view."
"It's right next to mine!"
He made the decision immediately.
He was already imagining scenes of climbing over the wall to visit her in the middle of the night.
Hippolyta turned her head.
She gave him a half-smile.
She seemed to see right through his little schemes,
but she didn't expose him.
Instead, she pointed to the girls downstairs.
"By the way, I'll also help you manage these little ones."
"They have a good foundation."
"But their style is too wild, and their Killing Intent is too heavy."
"They aren't suited to be true warriors."
"I will use the Amazon way"
"to retrain them."
"To let them learn to control power, rather than be controlled by it."
This was exactly what Arthas had been wishing for.
The Amazon training system—
that was a top-tier curriculum that had produced Wonder Woman.
It was countless times more sophisticated than the Red Room's methods that only taught how to kill.
"Understood, Sister!"
"Then I'll leave them to you from now on!"
"Should I have them call you... Instructor? Or Master?"
"No need for such trouble."
"Just call me Teacher."
Hippolyta waved her hand.
"Furthermore,"
"martial arts training alone isn't enough."
"I see they don't seem to have had much schooling; they can't even recognize all the characters, can they?"
"You should also hurry and find a teacher for them."
"To teach them cultural lessons."
"Language, history, mathematics, art."
"Not a single one can be missing."
"My Amazon 'adopted daughters'"
"cannot be illiterate."
Arthas nodded repeatedly.
"Yes, yes, yes."
"I had the same intention."
"I originally wanted to send them to school,"
"but schools these days..."
"I feel it's not as reliable as hiring a private tutor."
"I'll go contact someone right away and find the best teacher!"
"Even if I have to poach a Professor from a university!"
Anyway, he had plenty of money now.
And in this era,
as long as you had money,
what kind of talent couldn't you find?
Just as Arthas was calculating where to poach someone from,
Hippolyta seemed to suddenly think of something.
She turned around and walked up to Arthas.
She reached out and helped him straighten the tie that had been tugged into a mess earlier.
The movement was natural and intimate,
like a wife helping her husband tidy his appearance.
"Well..."
She lowered her voice.
In those purple eyes, a flash of complex emotion appeared.
A bit of guilt, a bit of expectation,
and a bit of...
excitement.
"These things,"
"including my coming here,"
"including my staying here,"
"and... what just happened."
Her finger tapped on Arthas's chest.
"For the time being,"
"don't tell Diana, and don't tell the people on the Olympusside."
"Just consider it..."
"a secret between us."
Arthas was stunned for a moment.
Then he caught her meaning.
This wasn't just to avoid a shura field;
it was...
a kind of tacit permission!
A tacit permission for a 'private development'!
If Diana wasn't told,
that meant...
here,
there was only him and Hippolyta.
Without the constraints of the 'mother-in-law' and'son-in-law' identities,
there was only a man and a woman.
"Understood!"
"My lips are sealed!"
"I definitely won't say a word!"
He nodded vigorously,
his eyes sparkling with excitement.
Looking at him like this,
Hippolyta couldn't help but laugh.
She reached out and flicked his forehead.
"What beautiful things are you thinking about?"
"Don't think that just because I'm not telling Diana,"
"you can do whatever you want."
"If you dare to mess around,"
"Hmph."
"Watch your ears."
Even though she said that,
the smile in the corner of her eyes and her finger still lingering on his chest conveyed completely different information.
"Alright, I'm tired. Take me to my room."
"And have someone bring my luggage up."
"I didn't bring much,"
"just a few pieces of clothing."
"The rest..."
"will depend on you, the 'landlord,' to foot the bill."
Arthas immediately turned into a lackey.
"No problem!"
"Buy whatever you want, Sister!"
"The shopping malls of all New York are yours to choose from!"
"The bills are all on me!"
As he spoke, he eagerly opened the office door
and made a 'please' gesture.
"This way, please, Sister!"
"Watch the steps!"
Hippolyta put on her sunglasses, regaining her cold, modern lady image.
She walked out with elegant strides.
The sound of high heels tapping on the floor rang out again.
Da, da, da.
Still so pleasant to hear, still so heart-tugging.
Arthas followed behind,
watching that swaying, graceful figure,
watching those Stockings-clad legs appearing and disappearing under the hem of her skirt.
In his heart, he silently gave himself a victory sign.
This round...
was a massive profit!
When they reached the stairs,
Hippolyta suddenly stopped and looked back at Arthas.
Even through the sunglasses, Arthas could still feel the heat of her gaze.
"By the way."
"That... Red Room."
"Since you've incorporated it, use it well."
"Don't let it become a mere tool for killing."
"Intelligence,"
"is sometimes more useful than a sword."
"Yes."
"I will follow your teachings, Sister."
Arthas said solemnly.
"I'll have Dreykov focus on intelligence gathering,"
"especially regarding Hydra and that... Super Soldier Project."
Hippolyta nodded and turned to continue downstairs.
"Super soldiers?"
"A group of Mortals who want to become gods."
"How interesting."
"I hope they don't play with fire and get burned."
Chapter 149: First Encounter with Captain America
After settling down the clingy "Queen Sister" and throwing that group of overexcited little girls to Hippolyta for training, Arthas adjusted his collar.
He walked out of the manor's gate.
New York, this city was like a massive, high-speed gearbox.
It was filled with noise, steam, and desire.
A black Ford sedan drove along the streets of Brooklyn.
Outside the car window, workers in overalls, their faces covered in grease, were hurrying toward the docks.
Crowds holding anti-war signs or recruitment posters gathered at street corners.
Newsboys waved papers with headlines about the war, shouting at the top of their lungs.
All of this, in Arthas's eyes, was like a faded black-and-white silent film.
Noisy, yet carrying a unique vitality that belonged to this era.
He sat in the backseat, watching outside with great interest, his fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the window, making a rhythmic "da, da" sound.
"Boss."
In the driver's seat, the driver, wearing an inconspicuous gray suit and a flat cap, spoke up.
His voice was low and carried a hint of respect.
He was an elite Agent specially selected by Dreykov, responsible for all of Arthas's travel and chores in New York.
"The traffic ahead isn't good."
"A protest march has blocked the main road."
"We need to take a detour."
"Should we take the alleyways?"
Arthas withdrew his gaze.
He glanced at the driver's neck muscles, which remained tense even while driving, and smiled.
"It doesn't matter."
"Anyway, that Doctor isn't going anywhere."
"A detour is fine."
"It just so happens that I want to see."
"This Brooklyn, hailed as the 'Land of the Free'."
"How many hidden corners it really conceals."
The car turned into a narrow alleyway.
The light dimmed instantly.
The walls here were covered in chaotic graffiti.
Trash cans were overflowing, emitting a sour, rotten stench.
A few stray cats, startled, darted up onto the wall.
They stared with wary green eyes at this steel monster that had intruded upon their territory.
Just as the car was about to exit the alley, Arthassuddenly raised his hand.
"Stop."
The driver did not hesitate at all, nor did he even ask why.
He slammed on the brakes.
The car stopped steadily by the side of the road.
Arthas pushed the car door open and stepped out.
His leather shoes stepped onto the somewhat slippery ground, making a soft sound.
He adjusted the brown trench coat he was wearing and shoved his hands into his pockets.
His gaze turned toward the depths of the alley, to that corner enclosed by a few trash cans.
There, a very unfair "fight" was taking place.
Or rather, a one-sided beating.
"Trying to run?"
"No way!"
A big brute of a thug, nearly two meters tall with bulky, bloated muscles, was pinning someone tightly against the wall.
The person being pinned was incredibly scrawny.
He looked to be just over 1.6 meters tall, and his weight was likely less than half of that big guy's.
His face was pale.
Because of the intense struggle and pain, his features were all scrunched together.
"I'm warning you!"
"This is Brooklyn!"
"Not a place for a weakling like you!"
The big thug roared.
Spittle sprayed all over the little guy's face.
Then he raised his fist, which was as big as a sandbag, and swung it down heavily.
"Bang!"
A dull thud.
The fist landed solidly on the little guy's stomach.
The little guy let out a painful grunt.
His body bent over like a boiled shrimp.
The big guy didn't let him fall, but instead grabbed his collar.
He hoisted him up and delivered another fierce punch to his face.
Blood flowed down from the corner of the little guy's mouth, dripping onto his jacket, which didn't fit him well to begin with.
His left eye was already swollen, his vision blurred, and his breathing became rapid and difficult.
That distinctive wheezing sound seemed exceptionally harsh in this quiet alley.
Clearly, this little guy was not only physically weak but also suffered from severe asthma.
Arthas was in no rush to step forward; he just stood in the shadows, watching quietly.
He was waiting.
Waiting for the little guy to beg for mercy or pass out.
Regarding this kind of conflict between Mortals, he didn't have much interest in interfering.
The Law of the jungle.
This is the Law of nature, and also the Law of this chaotic world.
However, the scene that happened next made his gaze change slightly.
That little guy, after taking two punches that would have landed an ordinary person in the hospital, did not beg for mercy, nor did he cry out.
He reached out, that hand so thin it was just skin and bone, groping around blindly.
He grabbed a discarded trash can lid and held it in front of his chest like a shield.
"Wanna go again?"
He panted.
Although his voice was weak, even intermittent due to his asthma, every word sounded like it was squeezed out from between his teeth, carrying a tenacity that couldn't be ignored.
The big thug obviously didn't expect this weakling to dare to fight back.
He was stunned for a moment, then burst into wild laughter.
"Hahahaha!"
"Thinking you can be a hero with a broken lid?"
"You rat!"
"I think you're tired of living!"
He kicked out again, kicking directly at the trash can lid.
The massive impact sent the little guy flying, crashing heavily into a pile of discarded cardboard boxes.
"Cough, cough, cough..."
The little guy coughed violently, as if he wanted to cough his lungs out.
He struggled, trying to stand up.
He failed the first time and fell back down.
But he didn't give up, his hands pressing against the dirty ground, his knuckles turning white from the effort.
His messy golden hair was covered in dust.
But he still raised his head, staring fixedly with his one good eye at the big guy walking over.
"You..."
"You can beat me to death."
He leaned against the wall, standing up shakily.
He assumed a boxing stance that looked standard but appeared somewhat comical given his physique.
"But I..."
"I can do this all day."
At this moment, Arthas's pupils contracted slightly.
"I can do this all day."
This sentence, spoken from the mouth of someone who had trouble even breathing, should have been a joke.
But at this very moment, watching that figure, exceptionally thin yet exceptionally upright in the sunset glow, Arthas couldn't laugh; he felt a vibration he hadn't felt in a long time.
That vibration did not come from a collision of power, but rather from...
The soul.
A pure, unyielding soul that would look up at the stars even while deep in the mire.
"Interesting."
Arthas whispered to himself.
He slowly took his hands out of his pockets.
"This kid's bones are harder than those Asgardians who fancy themselves warriors."
"Since that's the case, then I can't just stand by and watch the show."
Chapter 150: Miracle
The large thug was not moved by this spirit; on the contrary, he felt insulted.
An ant actually dared to provoke an elephant?
"Go to hell!"
He let out a roar.
He pulled a switchblade from his waist, the sharp blade glinting coldly in the sunlight.
He lunged straight for the small man's abdomen.
If this blade hit its mark...
Even if the kid didn't die, he would lose half his life.
The small man saw the knife.
A flash of fear crossed his eyes—it was instinct.
But he still didn't back down, still holding up that deformed trash can lid.
He prepared to receive the fatal blow.
However, the anticipated pain did not arrive, and even the sound of the blade slicing through the air vanished.
A hand—a slender, clean hand with distinct knuckles.
At some point, it had appeared on the large man's wrist.
Like an iron clamp, it tightly gripped the thick wrist.
No matter how hard the large man struggled...
The knife could not advance another inch.
"Who?!"
The large man turned his head in terror.
He saw the man standing behind him.
A man wearing a brown trench coat, with a faint smile on his face, yet one that made him feel cold all over.
"Bullying the weak is one thing."
"But using a knife..."
"Is a bit much, isn't it?"
Arthas's voice was very light, as light as if he were chatting with an old friend.
But the strength in his hand increased bit by bit.
*Crack.*
The crisp sound of a bone snapping.
The large man let out a shrill scream.
The knife in his hand fell to the ground.
His entire face contorted into a dark, purplish hue from the intense pain.
"Let... let go!"
"Do you know who I am?!"
"My boss is..."
"Shh."
Arthas raised a finger to his lips, making a silencing gesture.
"I don't want to know who your boss is."
"And I don't want to know who you are."
"Because..."
"The names of trash..."
"Don't need to be remembered."
He gave a casual toss.
The two-hundred-plus-pound man...
...was like a discarded ragdoll.
He flew directly into the air, tracing a far from graceful arc.
He cleared the trash cans and the alley walls.
He slammed heavily onto the street outside.
Before he could even let out a wail, he lost consciousness.
The alley instantly fell silent, leaving only the small man's rapid breathing.
He stared blankly at Arthas, his mouth slightly agape.
Clearly, he hadn't yet reacted to this sudden turn of events.
What just happened?
That big guy who had beaten him so helplessly...
...just like that...
...flew away?
Arthas clapped his hands and turned around.
He looked at the small man, who was still in a state of shock.
Now that he was closer...
...he could see the young man's wretched state more clearly.
His face was black and blue, blood was still trickling from the corner of his mouth, and his clothes had several holes.
Those eyes, though swollen, were still clear, like a pool of unpolluted lake water.
"Can you still move?"
"Little guy."
Arthas reached out a hand toward him.
Though his tone still carried a hint of teasing...
...there was a rare touch of seriousness in his eyes.
The small man hesitated.
He looked at his hands, covered in dirt and blood, and wiped them on his clothes with some embarrassment.
Only then did he cautiously reach out and take Arthas's hand.
"Th... thank you."
"My name is Steve."
"Steve Rogers."
Using Arthas's strength as leverage...
...he stood up with some difficulty, trying to make himself look less pathetic.
"Actually... I could have handled it myself."
"His... his movement just now had a huge opening."
"Is that so?"
Arthas couldn't help but laugh.
This kid really was stubborn to the core.
He'd been beaten like this, and he was still analyzing the opponent's openings?
However, he liked this personality.
"Steve Rogers."
"Good name."
"My name is Arthas."
"Or you can call me... Mr. Arthas."
Hearing the name, Arthas realized this was the Stevementioned in the intelligence—the participant in that experiment.
At the moment of the handshake, Arthas didn't hurry to let go; instead, he quietly mobilized a trace of Divine Power of Light within him.
Following the contact of their palms, it slowly flowed into Steve's body.
That was no ordinary energy.
It was the healing ability contained within Asgard's Divine Power.
For a god...
...this was just a negligible expenditure.
But for a Mortal—especially a Mortal with a frail body and multiple ailments...
...this was nothing short of a miracle.
Steve only felt a warm current coming from his palm.
It wasn't scalding like hot water.
Rather, it was...
...like the warmth of spring sunshine.
It flowed up his arm and throughout his entire body.
Those wounds and bruises that had been agonizingly painful just a moment ago...
...actually receded at an incredible speed.
The burning sensation vanished, replaced by an unprecedented feeling of lightness.
What was even more miraculous was when that warm current passed through his lungs.
His airways, which were chronically congested and made every breath sound like a wheezing bellows...
...seemed to be smoothed over by a gentle hand.
Air rushed in smoothly, filling every alveolus.
This sensation of being able to take deep breaths, of feeling oxygen surging through his blood...
...made his eyes widen in shock.
"This..."
"What is this?"
He looked at Arthas, his eyes full of disbelief.
"My injuries... and my asthma..."
"How do I feel..."
Arthas let go, stuffed his hands back into his pockets, and that faint smile remained on his face.
Hiding his deeds and fame.
"Maybe your stubbornness moved God."
"Who knows?"
He didn't explain, nor did he need to.
"Since you want to fight so much..."
...then train hard."
"Only having the ability to take a beating won't do."
"Next time..."
...try throwing that lid first."
"It might have a miraculous effect."
Arthas pointed at the deformed trash can lid on the ground and made a joke.
"Thank you... Mr. Arthas."
Steve picked up the lid and nodded seriously.
"I'll remember that."
"Even though I don't like fighting..."
"...I must become strong."
"Only by becoming strong can I protect those who cannot protect themselves."
"Just like you protected me just now."
Arthas gave him a deep look.
This skinny figure might be very weak...
...but this heart was already strong enough.
"I believe you will."
"Steve."
"We will... meet again very soon."
After saying this, Arthas turned and walked toward the alley entrance, his pace leisurely, the hem of his trench coat fluttering gently in the breeze.
Leaving Steve standing there alone, holding the trash can lid, looking at his back, lost in thought.
Back in the car, the driver immediately started the engine.