The Eredar Twins left General Ross’s residence and climbed into Umbrella’s only official company vehicle.
Salara settled into the back seat and addressed the driver.
"Tell the children to get ready. Nothing goes wrong today."
Aurecess nodded in agreement.
"This is only a performance. It would be a waste if our leading actor died before the final act."
They had invested months cultivating Ross.
If he survived what was coming, he would become a valuable piece on the board.
He couldn’t be allowed to fall now.
Luther, seated behind the wheel, lowered his head respectfully.
"You have my word, my ladies. The Shadow Sanctum and the Sisters of Eternal Night are already in position. Nothing has been left to chance."
The twins exchanged satisfied glances.
Brazilian mercenaries?
Please.
Those had never existed.
Mercenaries were expensive, difficult to control, and even harder to smuggle into New York carrying military hardware. Their identities were already known to intelligence agencies around the world. The CIA would have intercepted them before they ever cleared customs.
Using Umbrella’s own people was far simpler.
The Shadow Sanctum, stationed beneath the Void Legacy nightclub, and the Sisters of Eternal Night from the monastery had both been personally selected and trained by the twins. Their combat ability rivaled, if not surpassed, any professional mercenary force.
Granted...
A few months earlier, they’d mostly been gang enforcers and nightclub dancers.
Hopefully Ross would never discover exactly whose hands he’d entrusted his life to.
"Hm?"
Both sisters lowered their heads simultaneously and looked through the car windows.
Above Stark Tower, an enormous pillar of blue energy erupted into the heavens.
The sky split open.
A colossal rift unfolded across the clouds.
"So..."
"It has begun."
The twins didn’t bother hiding their disgust.
Few beings hated apocalyptic invasions more than former world-ending conquerors who had already retired.
They had finally found a comfortable life on Earth.
Good food.
Good drinks.
Endless entertainment.
No wars.
No cosmic crusades.
Then a swarm of unknown aliens arrived intending to destroy the planet.
Frankly, it was rude.
"Disgusting little insects."
Aurecess watched Chitauri warriors pour from the portal and wrinkled her nose.
"I’d love to throw a spear-wielding tauren beneath that portal and see how confident they look afterward."
"The young warlock already anticipated this," Salara replied. "He should be able to..."
Her voice stopped.
A heartbeat later, her expression darkened.
She had sensed something.
She turned toward her sister.
Aurecess wore the same look of astonishment.
Then Salara exploded.
"Idiot!"
Her fury was immediate.
"I underestimated just how reckless he could be."
A bitter laugh escaped her.
"I already gave him Dark Strike."
"So why..."
"Why is he trying to use that instead?"
Aurecess, surprisingly, remained calm.
"I’m not surprised."
She smiled knowingly.
"Leave a warlock alone with forbidden artifacts long enough and expecting him not to touch them is the truly unrealistic part."
"He held out this long."
"Honestly, I’m impressed."
"He can’t control that power," Salara snapped.
"There are forces that will consume him."
Aurecess narrowed her eyes mischievously.
"Are you worried about him?"
"Nonsense!"
Salara whipped around so quickly that her neck gave an audible crack.
"I’m worried that if this world suddenly gains a fully matured Dreadlord, we’ll be the ones dealing with the consequences."
"Then," Aurecess said with a grin, "it sounds like he needs our help."
The moment she finished speaking, she leaned backward.
Her body vanished into thin air.
"Tch."
Salara clicked her tongue.
"You left before I could."
She disappeared a second later.
Evenson had already returned home.
A permanent demonic summoning circle hidden inside the house had allowed him to teleport directly back to New York. From there, he recalled all of Umbrella’s operatives to the city.
He had arrived long before Loki activated the Tesseract.
He could have stopped it.
He chose not to.
The portal was necessary.
Everything depended on it opening.
So while everyone else scrambled to react, Evenson prepared for the battle he had anticipated from the very beginning.
A war of this scale deserved more than ordinary clothes.
He reached for robes he hadn’t worn in a very long time.
Not the familiar Heart of the Void.
Something new.
A set of dark, corruption-themed robes he had named Corruptor.
The robes were a muted brown-black, with heavy sleeves and gloves stitched from enchanted cloth.
Circular crimson runic plates adorned each shoulder, while rows of jagged spikes supported tiny skull ornaments that swayed with every movement.
Once the hood was raised, darkness swallowed his face entirely.
Only two crimson eyes remained visible beneath the shadow.
Naturally...
The outfit wasn’t genuine.
It was another painstaking counterfeit crafted by Evenson himself.
Compared to the authentic Warcraft artifact, it was an imitation in every sense.
Even so, he had redesigned nearly every component.
Its amplification of fel magic already surpassed what his previous robes, Heart of the Void, could provide.
Mounted over his chest was a device resembling Tony Stark’s Arc Reactor.
Evenson called it a Fel Battery.
Thin conduits extended from the device, weaving throughout every inch of the robes.
The design was inspired by the technology Sarah had recovered from Ivan Vanko’s Whiplash armor.
During ordinary days, Evenson continuously fed fel energy into the battery, allowing it to accumulate over time.
Once activated, the stored power flooded through the conduits and reinforced every spell he cast.
Comparable enchantments normally belonged only to powerful demon lords or master warlocks.
Their enhancements were permanent.
His was temporary.
But temporary was good enough.
Dressed in his extravagantly overdesigned imitation robes, Evenson walked to the front door and gazed at the enormous portal hanging over Manhattan.
"The gateway to a new world has finall..."
"Whoa!"
Before he could finish his dramatic declaration, someone seized him by the back of his robes.
A tremendous force yanked him backward.
He flew across the room and crashed into a wooden table hard enough to splinter it.
"My back!"
Evenson clutched his waist, grimacing.
"I’ve been protecting this spine for twenty-one years and it finally gets used like a battering ram!"
He glared toward the newcomers.
"What was that for?!"
Standing inside the room were the Eredar Twins.
They had already been irritated.
Arriving just in time to catch Evenson posing dramatically had been the final straw.
Aurecess hadn’t even bothered with words.
She’d simply thrown him.
Salara strode over.
She planted one hoof on the shattered table with a heavy thud.
Leaning down until they were nearly face-to-face, she seized Evenson’s chin between her fingers.
The pose looked less like an interrogation and more like an overbearing CEO cornering an unfortunate subordinate.
"So..."
"I hand you a legendary weapon..."
"...and you’re still not satisfied?"
Her eyes flashed.
"Now you’re after an Artifact Weapon?"
Her voice cracked like a whip.
"You idiot!"
"Do you honestly believe Ulthalesh, the Deadwind Harvester is something the current you can control?"
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
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