Chapitre 38: Chapter 37
On the dark, desolate plain, the skeletal remains of a massive Ant-Man loomed like an ancient beast, its hollow frame evoking a sense of primal dread.
Within the cavernous skull, Old Loki and Young Loki dangled in mid-air, bound by thick, glowing chains. A woman was suspended alongside them.
Cassandra, a tall figure radiating malice, traced the woman's skin with her sharp fingertips. Blood, glowing like molten lava, oozed from the wound. Cassandra dipped her finger into the viscous liquid, bringing it to her lips with an expression of mingled pain and ecstasy.
Breaking the silence, Cassandra's voice, sharp and cutting, filled the space.
"Are you sure it's him?"
The Red Devil, standing rigidly nearby, bent into a deferential bow. "I cannot be entirely certain," he replied. "But the Loki spies I recruited claimed he wields blood-arrow magic, produces magical spider silk with extraordinary power, and—though unverified—possesses fire-related abilities."
Cassandra's eyes gleamed. "A new ability, perhaps? That makes it more likely."
The Red Devil nodded. "He may wear Loki's face, but I suspect it's an illusion. A low-tier mimicry seeking higher-tier power users." He gestured toward Old Loki. "That's where he comes in."
The faintest smirk curled Cassandra's lips. "Fake will always remain fake," she said dismissively. "This green-clad fool thinks himself clever. Let him amuse us."
Old Loki hung his head, offering no resistance. But Young Loki, brimming with defiance, shouted, "You vile human! You know nothing of the true power of illusion magic!"
Cassandra raised an eyebrow. With a casual wave of her hand, Young Loki was yanked forward, his head clasped in her iron grip. Her fingers pressed into his skull, and for a chilling moment, her power rummaged through his memories.
"Pitiful," she muttered after a pause, her lips curling in contempt. "You're all garbage." With a flick of her wrist, she discarded him like a broken toy, turning her attention back to the Red Devil.
"Proceed with tomorrow's plan."
The Red Devil bowed. "As you command."
The rooftop of Stark Tower loomed against the night sky.
Russell landed with practiced ease, the sound of his arrival drawing President Loki from his slumber. Seeing Russell, President Loki instinctively shrank back—a conditioned response born of days spent in the man's intimidating presence.
Strange, he thought to himself. Why do I feel so familiar with this fear?
Morning gave way to midday, and President Loki lingered on the ground floor of the tower, watching for potential leads. His indifference to finding high-tier illusion Loki had grown; after all, the perks of food, drink, and deference from others were hard to beat.
But the sound of a distant vehicle broke his lethargy. Moments later, a group of Lokis arrived, dragging Old Loki in chains.
"Here for the bounty," one of them called out.
President Loki frowned, puffing up his chest. "Is this legit?" he demanded. "Don't forget—the mighty Mr. Loki doesn't take kindly to fraud."
The group exchanged uneasy glances before one of them nodded. "He's the real deal. He even demonstrated illusion magic for us."
Intrigued but skeptical, President Loki gestured. "Fine. Follow me."
The climb to the rooftop was grueling for the less pureblooded Lokis in the group, but they dared not complain. When they finally arrived, they presented Old Loki before Russell.
Russell's gaze lingered on the figure before him. The bedraggled green-clad man seemed a perfect match for the old Loki from his memories. Yet, something felt off. His instincts whispered caution.
With measured calm, Russell said, "Give them the armor. No need to test him."
President Loki hesitated, but obediently handed over the reward. The group of Lokis departed quickly, their steps hurried, as if fearful of overstaying their welcome.
Russell's eyes narrowed. Their departure confirmed his suspicion—they lacked the strength to capture someone like Old Loki. Someone else was pulling the strings.
Old Loki, still bound, raised his head and sighed. "You've gone through a lot of trouble to catch me. Do what you must, but make it quick. Don't torment an old man unnecessarily."
Russell stepped forward, raising his hand. A thin line of fire appeared, slicing through the chains with precision.
"Kill you? Steal your magic?" Russell chuckled softly. "I have no interest in such things. I only want to learn illusion magic—nothing more."
Surprise flickered across Old Loki's face, quickly replaced by a guarded expression. "You're different," he muttered. "But how did you know I could use advanced illusion magic? Weren't you afraid this was a trap?"
Russell smiled. "Someone once told me there's a Loki with the most powerful illusions—a Loki with a glorious purpose."
Old Loki's gaze softened, and for a moment, a flicker of pride warmed his weary features. But before Russell could probe further, Old Loki's expression twisted unnaturally. His voice, strained and broken, whispered:
"Run… Run, Loki!"
Before Russell could react, Old Loki's laughter turned maniacal. "Too late," he rasped. "Your fire reeks of Extremis—its scent is unforgettable."
Golden sparks erupted as a portal materialized. From within stepped Cassandra, her presence suffocating.
Russell tensed, his instincts screaming danger. But as he prepared to teleport away, he felt an invisible force clamp down on him. Old Loki, his trembling hand raised, had cast the restraint.
"Finally," Cassandra said, her tone dripping with triumph. "Caught you, Russell."
Despite the situation, Russell's voice remained steady. "You split your spirit to control him. Clever, but desperate."
Cassandra shrugged, a smug grin spreading across her face. "Desperate? No. Thorough."
Her fingers reached for Russell's head, and as her nails pierced his temple, the world shifted.
Cassandra found herself in an unfamiliar realm—a grand cathedral, its marble floors gleaming under ethereal light. Pillars stretched into the heavens, framing a massive, white throne.
Seated upon it, Russell gazed down with a calm intensity. His voice echoed powerfully through the chamber:
"I've been expecting you, Cassandra."
Thunder rumbled ominously as the battle for dominion over the mind began.
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone