When people spoke of master schemers within the Burning Legion, one race invariably came to mind.
The Nathrezim.
The Dreadlords had earned their reputation many times over.
They corrupted Felwood.
They orchestrated Prince Arthas’s descent into darkness.
They drove the Scarlet Crusade into fanaticism.
They manipulated the Royal Apothecary Society’s betrayal in the Undercity.
Wherever catastrophe took root, the Nathrezim were rarely far behind.
Their most devastating success in recent memory had come just before the Alliance and Horde launched their assault on the Broken Shore.
The Dreadlord Detheroc eliminated every scout sent ahead of the invasion, captured SI:7’s field commander, Master Mathias Shaw, and fed the combined armies false intelligence that the Legion’s defenses were weak.
The heroes of Azeroth had marched straight into a perfectly prepared killing field.
The consequences were catastrophic.
King Varian Wrynn fell in battle.
Vol’jin succumbed to his wounds.
Highlord Tirion Fordring was captured and ultimately killed.
The fragile alliance between the Alliance and the Horde shattered in the aftermath.
Few races could rival the Nathrezim when it came to manipulation.
But they were only the executors.
The true architects of the Legion’s grand strategy were the Eredar.
More specifically...
Kil’jaeden the Deceiver.
The Nathrezim needed elaborate conspiracies.
Kil’jaeden needed only a single lie.
One illusion.
One whispered promise.
That was enough to send an entire world tearing itself apart.
Draenor, now known as Outland, stood as the greatest monument to his genius. The Burning Legion hadn’t conquered it through overwhelming force.
Kil’jaeden had convinced its people to destroy it themselves.
Because of that unparalleled talent, the Deceiver had always considered personal combat beneath him. Victory achieved through raw strength lacked elegance.
True mastery was pulling invisible strings while others fought the battles.
The Eredar Twins, once his trusted lieutenants, had inherited that philosophy completely.
They preferred temptation to violence.
Deception over open conflict.
Even if it required more patience.
"Now then..."
Professor Elliot Randolph folded his arms.
"If you aren’t acting on Asgard’s behalf..."
"...would you mind telling me who you actually represent?"
Although the twins had failed to fool him, he made no move to attack.
Anyone capable of uncovering his identity and possessing such detailed knowledge of Asgard couldn’t possibly be acting alone.
There had to be an organization behind them.
A powerful one.
Even if he killed both women today, the people pulling their strings would eventually come looking.
If there was another way...
He preferred to avoid bloodshed.
"We represent Umbrella Corporation," Alythess answered calmly.
"Umbrella?"
Randolph frowned.
"I’ve never heard of it."
"Naturally."
Salysra smiled mysteriously.
"Our organization’s size..."
"...and the influence it commands..."
"...are beyond anything you could imagine."
Strictly speaking, she wasn’t lying.
No one could have imagined Umbrella’s actual state of affairs.
Randolph let the subject drop.
The company’s name wasn’t important.
"Then tell me this."
"How did you discover my identity?"
"I’m afraid we can’t reveal our source."
Alythess shook her head.
"We can only say..."
"...you shouldn’t have shown off quite so much."
Randolph’s eyes narrowed.
So it really was the Security Council consultation...
For years he’d taught mythology exactly as every other professor did.
Legends.
Poetry.
Symbolism.
The only time he’d deviated from accepted scholarship had been while answering questions after the New Mexico incident.
Apparently...
That single lapse had been enough.
Less than two weeks had passed, yet someone had already dug those records out of government archives.
That level of access wasn’t something an ordinary organization possessed.
Either Umbrella had infiltrated the World Security Council...
...or the Council itself had sent them.
Neither possibility was encouraging.
Randolph sighed.
There was no point pretending he could overpower an international organization.
He was stronger than most Asgardians.
But compared to Thor...
Compared even to Lady Sif...
He was nothing exceptional.
"So."
He relaxed slightly.
"What exactly do you want from me?"
"If possible..."
"...I’d rather cooperate."
Alythess’s face lit up.
"Oh?"
"You’re willing to cooperate?"
"That makes things much easier."
Randolph nodded.
"So what do you need?"
Salysra smiled.
It was a beautiful smile.
The words that followed were anything but.
"We’ll extract your soul."
"Preserve your body in a nutrient tank."
"And conduct extensive research on both."
Her voice remained almost gentle.
"A lone Asgardian is an extraordinarily valuable research specimen."
Alythess’s smile grew even brighter.
"Don’t worry."
"We’ll make every effort to keep you alive."
"The quality of the research depends on it."
"And naturally..."
"...we’ll always remember your generous contribution."
The room grew deathly silent.
The Eredar loved intricate schemes.
But when those schemes failed...
Their tempers rarely improved.
"You could have remained blissfully ignorant."
Salysra’s expression turned cold.
"Instead..."
"...you insisted on learning exactly what awaited you."
"That was unwise."
Randolph’s face hardened.
"No."
"The unwise ones..."
"...are you."
"I’m a Berserker."
The twins exchanged amused glances.
"And?"
Alythess asked.
Randolph frowned.
They weren’t intimidated in the slightest.
A possibility suddenly occurred to him.
"You’ve got reinforcements outside, don’t you?"
"If I fight with everything I have..."
"...I may not escape."
"But I can probably kill one of you before they stop me."
Alythess laughed.
"Do you really think that’s necessary?"
"You’ve left me no choice."
Randolph’s voice became resolute.
"I still have centuries ahead of me."
"I’m not spending them floating in a laboratory tank."
Salysra slowly stood.
"Centuries?"
She looked at him with unmistakable superiority.
"No."
"The moment we arrived..."
"...time became a luxury you no longer possess."
The instant the final word left her lips...
Something slammed into Randolph’s chest.
There was no warning.
No visible movement.
One moment he was standing.
The next...
He was airborne.
Three slender fingers clamped around his throat and lifted him effortlessly into the air.
"Wgh—!"
Agony exploded through his body.
His internal organs felt as though they had all ruptured simultaneously.
Blood surged into his throat, but the iron grip around his neck trapped it inside.
He couldn’t scream.
Couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t even cough.
His mind struggled to understand what had happened.
Too fast...
He hadn’t even seen her move.
Salysra held him aloft with only three fingers.
His desperate struggles failed to make her arm tremble even slightly.
"Pathetically weak."
She regarded him with complete disappointment.
"I didn’t even get the chance to deliver a proper opening speech."
Alythess watched the scene without the slightest interest.
After a moment, she tapped the jeweled brooch pinned to her coat.
"If you’ve seen enough..."
"...bring the car around."
"We’re leaving."
General Ross had wisely chosen not to participate personally.
Watching safely through remote surveillance equipment suited him far better.
Salysra tightened her grip just a fraction.
Randolph’s body went limp.
She casually tossed the unconscious Asgardian onto the floor.
"I really dislike fighting."
She sounded genuinely dissatisfied.
"It ended far too quickly."
"There wasn’t even time to enjoy myself."
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter