Wilson Fisk's desk soon had a new bill on it.
The number on it was enough to make any accountant's heart stop.
"Asking for more money?" Kingpin looked at the report Wesley handed over, his fat face showing a clear emotional fluctuation for the first time, a strange expression mixed with annoyance and surprise.
"Yes, Boss." Wesley pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, the look in his eyes behind the lenses flickering.
"Mr. Deathstroke's exact words were, 'The target is rather special.'"
Kingpin fell silent. He certainly knew those people were special, otherwise he wouldn't have spent a sky-high price to hire the King of Mercenaries. But he didn't expect that this legendary Deathstroke would raise the price before even meeting the target.
"How much does he want?"
"Double the original price."
The office fell into a deathly silence.
"Also," Wesley continued, biting the bullet.
"He also requested that we provide detailed files on all recent 'abnormal events' in New York, the more detailed the better. He said this would help him 'understand the prey's living environment.'"
Kingpin's massive body leaned back against the chair, which let out an unbearable groan. He stared at Wesley, a dangerous light flashing in his small eyes. After a long while, he picked up the diamond-encrusted cane on the table and gently tapped the desktop.
"Give it to him." Kingpin's voice returned to calm, cold as the deep sea.
"Give him the money, give him the files. I don't care about the process, I only want the results. Tell him, if he cannot place those four heads in front of me, I will personally go and twist his head off."
"Yes, Boss." Wesley, as if granted amnesty, bowed and exited the office.
Kingpin turned around and looked out the window again. He felt that the underground order he was familiar with, built on money and violence, was being eroded by a more bizarre and unpredictable power.
And he hated this feeling of being out of control.
---
Meanwhile, thousands of kilometers away from New York, in the Arctic Circle of Alaska.
Aknuk was an experienced Inuit hunter.
He could smell the approach of a blizzard in the wind and judge the thickness of the ice from the calls of seals. But today, all the experience he relied on for a living had failed.
The dog sled stopped at the edge of the former coastline, the sled dogs pawing anxiously and letting out low whimpers.
In front of Aknuk and his clansmen should have been the rolling waves of the Chukchi Sea.
But now, that deep blue ocean had disappeared, and in its place was an endless, mirror-smooth ice field.
This was not normal freezing. In August, the Arctic Ocean was far from the season of being frozen over.
This ice was eerily white, as if carved from a single huge white gemstone, extending to the horizon where the sea met the sky.
"Aknuk, look over there!" A young clansman pointed at the ice surface, his voice trembling.
Aknuk's gaze shifted, and his pupils constricted sharply.
The ice layer was translucent, and through the ice, they could see everything frozen in the seawater below.
A huge polar bear, maintaining a pouncing posture, with crystalline frost even hanging on its fur, its ferocious expression frozen forever, as if an angry ice sculpture.
Not far away, a group of seals were frozen in the ice layer, like insects in amber.
Even more bizarrely, several seabirds fell straight down from the sky, hitting the ice with dull "thuds."
They had already been frozen into hard ice blocks before falling, their wings still maintaining a flying posture.
Even birds flying in the sky could not be spared.
A chill originating from the depths of the soul infected everyone present.
This was no longer a natural phenomenon; it was a divine punishment, a whisper of the devil.
"What kind of thing—" the young hunter's teeth chattered, "—could even freeze the northern deity 'Nanook' (polar bear) instantly—"
This place was like a huge, cold graveyard. All life, whether on land, in the ocean, or in the sky, had its temperature taken away in the same instant.
Aknuk crouched down and touched the ice surface with his thick leather-gloved hand.
A bone-chilling cold instantly penetrated the glove, making him retract his hand sharply.
This was not a natural cold; this was a kind of—absolute, unreasonable "stasis."
"The ice—is moving south."
He stood up, squinting his eyes, looking into the distance.
This dead ice field was not stationary; it was devouring the normal ocean from north to south at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Fear gripped everyone's heart. But a more primitive curiosity and awe drove them to make a bold decision.
"Follow it." Aknuk said concisely.
They drove the sleds again, setting foot on this ice road paved by miracles or curses, heading south, tracing the source of this glacier.
Along the way, they saw more frozen wonders. A whale leaping out of the water, solidified in mid-air into a magnificent ice sculpture.
Schools of cod formed dense silver matrices under the ice layer. The entire ecosystem was sealed beneath this moving ice sheet.
I don't know how much time passed, but when the sled dogs could no longer run, they finally saw it.
At the end of the ice field, at the boundary between the ocean and the ice surface, there was a figure.
It was a woman.
She wore a pure white military uniform they had never seen before, her posture as straight as a drawn sword.
Her waist-length water-blue long hair fluttered slightly in the polar wind, yet it was not messy at all.
She was walking on the sea.
No, more accurately, every time she took a step forward, the churning seawater beneath her feet would instantly solidify into a solid ice surface, centered on her footprint.
The ice layer spread rapidly to the surroundings, making a subtle and crisp "crackling" sound, as if the whole World was paving the way for her progress.
She did not walk fast, her pace elegant and composed, just like inspecting her own courtyard.
Behind her was a frozen road she had created with her own hands, extending all the way from the Arctic Ocean.
The hunters stared blankly at this scene, forgetting to breathe, forgetting the cold. All the legends about gods, demons, creation, and destruction in their minds became pale and weak at this moment.
They saw the woman stop, raise her hand, and seem to be looking at her own palm.
Esdeath looked at the translucent panel that appeared out of thin air in front of her, her blue eyes devoid of any ripples.
[Welcome to the Marvel Universe, Player: Esdeath.]
[Faction determination in progress—]
[Based on your personal traits and code of conduct, you have been classified as—Raid Faction.]
She didn't care about these words.
Esdeath's memory still lingered on the final moment of the decisive battle with Akame. She held the dead Tatsumi, using her last strength to freeze them both together forever.
She thought that was eternal death, the final resting place she could give to herself and her lover.
However, she woke up.
No Tatsumi.
Only a strange, cold sea.
The Teigu power of the "Demon's Extract" in her body was more active than ever before.
The curse mark had disappeared, along with the fatigue and pain from the final battle, all swept away.
She had survived and come to a brand new World.
Esdeath was not a woman who would indulge in confusion.
Only the weak would be confused, while the strong would only conquer.
This so-called "system" and "player" made her instantly understand one thing—she was not the only person who had come here.
Since she could miraculously survive—
Then, Tatsumi must also be able to.
He must also be in some corner of this World, waiting for her.
This thought struck her heart like lightning, igniting a flame more intense than ever before.
Find Tatsumi.
Find him, conquer him, make him her own exclusive possession.
This new World was the new hunting ground she had prepared for her lover.
Esdeath closed the panel. She needed intelligence, she needed to find the human civilization of this World.
She looked up, feeling the wind direction and the Earth's magnetic field, identifying the direction.
South.
A confident and cruel smile curled at the corner of her mouth, a smile that could melt ice and snow, and could make gods and demons tremble.
"Wait for me, Tatsumi."
She whispered softly and took another step.
Behind her, the group of Inuit hunters finally recovered from the shock, kneeling on the ice in unison, offering their most primitive worship to the retreating figure.
They didn't know who she was or where she came from.
They only knew that from today on, in the legends of the far north, there was one more White Goddess who walked on the sea and breathed ice.