Chapter Six: The Lich King Remains Secure Behind the Scenes

Fate is a wondrous thing.

No matter how it turns, no matter how far it deviates, it will always return to its proper path in the end. Roald saw an immense business opportunity in Tony.

God once said, "The greedy possess nothing."

But Roald believed, "Those who are not greedy possess nothing either."

The great Lich King, having just arrived in this land, merely wished to find a... generous benefactor—no, he merely wanted to offer Stark a friendly greeting.

What ill intent could he possibly harbor?

He only wanted to make a bit of money.

The birth of Iron Man was the catalyst for most events, like the key that unlocks Pandora's box.

Roald needed this to happen.

Although he didn't know exactly where Tony would be kidnapped in the Middle East—whether Afghanistan, Iraq, or some other precise location—it was not something Roald needed to worry about.

Finding Tony in Afghanistan would be difficult, but in Las Vegas, it was simple—just holding up his portrait and asking around, everyone would know who he was.

All he needed to do was find Tony at the place where the dream began, set Vicaarn to follow him from the shadows on his skeletal steed, and then let Tony's story unfold as it should. The rest would be Roald's own domain of action.

...

At the headquarters of Trident, in the office of the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

At that moment, Nick Fury stood with his hands behind his back, gazing out the window. He enjoyed this pose, as it made him feel as though he could control everything.

The weather was gloomy, the room was not particularly bright to begin with, and he had not turned on the lights. Coupled with his black leather trench coat, black eye patch, and dark skin, his attire perfectly encapsulated the aura of a professional agent cloaked in darkness, serving the light.

Had he not revealed his shining white teeth while speaking, Coulson, who had just entered, might not have noticed where his superior was standing in the room.

"I hear you wanted to report this mission to me personally?"

Nick Fury's tone was inscrutable, betraying no hint of emotion.

To maintain an air of mystery at all times is a fundamental quality for any agent.

"Yes, sir. I think it's necessary for you to confirm this yourself," Coulson explained, handing over the information he had gathered.

"What is this? The latest intel on the Natasha incident?" Nick Fury asked as he looked at the file Coulson handed him.

"Yes, Director. There must be a connection between these two seemingly unrelated events. I trust my judgment," Coulson considered for a moment. "Here's the thing: I believe Agent Natasha's incident may be related to Hydra."

"I hope you know what you're saying," Nick Fury was somewhat surprised. Captain America was currently being thawed out, and if he heard that Hydra—the organization he had worked so hard to destroy—had reemerged, he might leap out of bed and punch himself three times out of frustration.

But he knew his subordinate's capabilities. Coulson was not one to make baseless claims; he must have his reasons.

"I stake my career on it, Director," Coulson said, then carefully handed over a card adorned with a spider emblem, glowing with blue frost energy.

"A spider card?" Nick Fury raised an eyebrow. "Listen, Coulson, having a personal hobby is fine, but I'd prefer you not bring your hobbies into work."

"This is not just a card, Director. Do you remember the spider from the Natasha incident? This was found on the bodies of the gang members who shouted, 'Cut off one head, two more shall take its place,' before their suicide attacks. I believe there's a connection."

Nick Fury put on gloves and picked up the card, examining it. The card was cold to the touch, unusually dense for something so thin, and its material was clearly extraordinary.

"An eight-legged spider and Hydra—there must be a connection between the two."

"I need an explanation, Coulson." Fury was not so easily convinced. Hydra had not surfaced for over half a century, its existence distant from ordinary life. Now, with the appearance of an eight-legged spider, he could not discount the possibility that these gangsters were simply rebellious youths, showing off by saluting, "Hail, Hydra!"—as casually as saying, "Good morning." Only this time, it was, "Hail, the Eight-Legged Spider?"

"Sir, I don't think those street punks could get their hands on something like this," Coulson said, pointing to the card in Fury's hand. He then produced a transparent evidence bag filled with more of the cards. "These were taken from the suicide attackers. Our people tested them but couldn't identify the material, and the frost technology on them can't be melted. It seems almost magical."

"Magic?" Fury put the card down and fixed his solitary eye on Coulson. "Coulson, I know the workload lately has been immense, but is there something wrong with my hearing?"

This was not scientific.

Nick Fury's face was a picture of disbelief.

"Director, science can't make blue frost persist in this way," Coulson replied, shrugging—truthfully, he found it hard to believe himself.

Nick Fury fell into deep thought.

"Director, whether it's science or magic, the primary issue is that we need to take immediate action to sweep that district. The Red Skull's disciples may be reviving, or perhaps another force is using Hydra's name. But for us, there is only one thing to do."

Perhaps the Red Skull, whom Captain America eliminated, was merely one branch of Hydra. The emergence of an 'Eight-Legged Spider' branch would not be surprising.

"Whether they're truly Hydra or not, any threat must be eliminated in its infancy." Coulson looked at Fury. "The incident with Natasha was no accident. It speaks to the power of this group—perhaps they have better channels for intelligence, maybe even within our ranks, and know secrets we do not. Otherwise, Natasha's ordeal is hard to explain. In any case, we can't remain passive."

Coulson's words steeled Fury's resolve. Although Natasha currently seemed emotionally stable, no one could guarantee the other side hadn't extracted valuable information from her.

He knew he could not wait any longer.

"Notify Hawkeye, the strike team, and the NYPD. Tell them we need their cooperation to sweep the gangs of the Sixth District—cleanse the whole area and miss nothing suspicious."

"Yes, sir."

While S.H.I.E.L.D. was preparing for a grand operation, Roald had already directed Zazalab to lay the spider's web, leaving behind the necessary clues—now, it was just a matter of waiting for them to come knocking.

Meanwhile, Vicaarn, riding his skeletal steed, came to a sudden halt. He pulled out a newspaper and the second-hand cell phone Roald had reluctantly bought for him, watching the video of the mustached man gesticulating passionately on stage.

With one hand holding the phone and the other the newspaper, Vicaarn compared the photo, then tossed the paper aside. He hovered on his mount, resting his chin in his hand, pondering.

The Lich King had said to find this man, follow him, and recruit him into the Scourge—this was his first mission, and he absolutely could not mess it up.

Now, what was this little mustache's name again?

He was so arrogant!

Irritating enough to hit!