Chapter 404

Looking at Loki's face, Schiller guessed: "They want to put you in power?"

Loki took a deep breath and said: "Do you know? If I hadn't looked up that one time, I might have truly been lost in their sweet words—when the Asgardians truly show you warmth, you feel they are so sincere and kind."

Loki's voice trembled slightly as he said: "The feeling of power being placed before you, begging you to wield it—that is the most addictive poison in this world."

His arms began to tremble too, and he said: "I overestimated the weight of past hatreds in my memory. I admit—I wavered…"

"Because those hatreds are the past, while power and honor are the present," Schiller sighed. "Few can truly remember the past; most chase the present."

"But thank goodness…" Loki's tone carried a hint of dread. "Before that, I saw the view above the cosmos, witnessed the final end of all stories—that despair cut deeper."

"So what did you do?"

"I planned to have Thor imprison me, so I could legitimately avoid all contact—none of them would bother me again. But that idiot Thor flatly refused." Loki's voice turned bitter.

"His damned, ill-timed softness and kindness have always been the greatest obstacle to all my plans."

"But you actually enjoyed it, didn't you?" Schiller smiled.

"I'm not joking," Loki said seriously. "It was a perfect plan—I'd fake a fight with him, then he'd lock me up. It would spare me trouble and intimidate them."

"If anyone tried to rescue me, I'd betray them to Thor, and Thor could deal with them legitimately. I explained this plan to him at least a dozen times—he still refused."

Loki took a deep breath, sounding deeply regretful. "So I had to settle for second best—I found an excuse to escape. But it won't last long. They have other candidates."

"Like whom?"

"They wanted to choose Balder—he's the rightful eldest son, the most revered heir. But Balder has no interest in this mess."

"He was locked in a stalemate with Hela, but as soon as he heard their plan, he went straight back to sleep on Yggdrasil."

"So now it's just…"

Loki's expression grew grim. "Yes. Only Hela remains."

"What does Hela think?"

Loki pressed his lips together. "I'm not sure. His attitude is ambiguous. I don't know if they've secretly persuaded him, plotting something. You know—I can't get too close to him."

Schiller pressed a finger against his upper lip, suppressing a smile. "I think if you used your charm, it'd be far more effective than their persuasion."

"Don't be ridiculous," Loki waved a hand. "Hela only plays around when he's bored. It won't change his decisions on serious matters."

"If it were only him, I wouldn't worry. But if all the warlike Asgardians side with him, Thor could be in danger."

Loki leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, fell silent for a moment, then spoke with a cold tone: "When you first proposed that plan to me, I hesitated. But now, with things at this point…"

He shook his head. "No destruction, no renewal. Every dynasty's fall brings bloodshed. If the royal house refuses bloodshed, then…"

beqege.

Loki opened his eyes. His expression returned to normal, but the deliberate elongation of his final syllables carried a bone-deep chill.

Schiller looked at him. "In a certain sense, in this era, you're more suited to be king of Asgard than Thor. Thor isn't yet a qualified emperor—he lacks cruelty."

"If enough cruelty could save Asgard, but not enough cruelty could save himself—Loki, which would you choose?"

Loki fell silent.

But his expression told Schiller that his first answer had surprised even himself.

"Alright, now let's talk about my plan."

Schiller leaned back in his chair. Behind him, through the floor-to-ceiling window, the sun appeared, then sank lower and lower until it neared the horizon—a quiet dusk, followed by the same silent, desolate night.

Schiller set aside his cold coffee, picked up another cup, poured himself a glass of cold water, drank, then set it aside. He returned to his seat, frowning. "Someone called saying you're a master poisoner. Now do poison masters not even care about taste anymore?"

As he spoke, a female silhouette gradually formed in the chair opposite him—a graceful, sensual woman with long black hair and dark red lips, wearing a dark green mermaid dress, holding a cigarette.

"Hello, I'm Ophelia. Hungarian."

She inhaled smoke, exhaled slowly, speaking in accented English: "Sorry for contaminating your coffee. I trust you won't mind brewing another—please make one for me too."

"Do you like drinking coffee at night?" Schiller asked her.

"Depends. If I plan to sleep early, I won't. But tonight will surely be interesting, don't you think?" Ophelia's voice was normal, her tone devoid of seductive flair—yet it commanded full attention.

Schiller sat, studying her, recalling Natasha's image in his mind, comparing their allure. He thought: perhaps because she wasn't Natasha's target, Natasha never deliberately seduced him—and thus, the Widow of Hydra was superior.

"What are you thinking?" Ophelia leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin in hand, eyes fixed on Schiller's.

"Thinking of another woman," Schiller replied.

Ophelia fell silent.

"Are you trying to provoke me?" Ophelia leaned back but kept her gaze locked on Schiller. "You've killed many people lately—many of them were mine."

"Yes. The moles you planted in Pierce's network—all turned against you," Schiller said. "Don't glare at me like that. I'm stating a fact."

"Regardless, your time is up, Doctor," Ophelia stared at Schiller with deadly intent. Schiller raised a hand. "Wait—I'll make a call."

Ophelia's fury was nearly visible. Schiller walked calmly to the phone by the door, dialed, and said: "Execute."

A crack of thunder struck the roof of the newly renovated old bank. Seconds later, a woman with a wild afro burst through the window, shouting: "Doctor!"

"I'll kill you!"

！

Then the sky flashed again—a second lightning bolt struck. Ophelia had no time to dodge; she was blasted backward. She rose, black energy surging around her.

The energy formed a shield. She looked up, roaring: "Who?! Show yourself!"

The answer was a relentless barrage of lightning. So dense, Ophelia dared not hold her shield—she dodged and ran as lightning struck continuously across New York State.

Soon, the strange weather drew crowds. Many Hydra agents recognized the figure wrapped in dark energy: the infamous Widow of Hydra.

Above the clouds, Loki held Mjolnir in one hand and a globe in the other. Lightning streamed from the hammer, chasing the Widow of Hydra as she fled for her life.

Ophelia had considered counterattacking—she wanted to fly up and find the source. But her energy was insufficient. To maintain her shield, she couldn't fly. To fly, she had to drop the shield.

She had no body strong enough to withstand such lightning. Everything relied on that dark energy. When she tried to draw more, she discovered her contracted demon's phone wouldn't connect.

Ophelia was nearly insane. She'd communicated with that great being only a few times—but each time, she'd drawn immense power. It was her lifeline. Yet now, at this critical moment, Siseon's phone rang unanswered. No matter how she prayed, the Great Shadow Siseon gave no reply.

So what was Siseon doing?

In the dimension of chaotic energy, a red-haired girl crossed her arms. "We didn't change the terms. The hell-dimension demons united in protest—they say the Sanctum's deal with you is too generous. It disrespects their loyalty."

"But I'm stronger than them!" Siseon roared. "Don't you see? Don't you realize how much stronger you are than their pathetic pawns?"

"Save it," Wanda scoffed. "Don't think I don't know—you've recruited other secret followers. All female humans. What are you up to?"

Wanda made a disgusted face. "You remind me of certain men who cheat on multiple women—claiming to love me best, yet saying the same to every girl…"

Siseon had no idea what she meant. Human emotions were too volatile. He couldn't comprehend his Qiyuezhe Wanda—she seemed to have only two states: angry and extremely angry.

Wanda could be so defiant because she was a mutant with extraordinary power. Her reality-warping ability could even affect Siseon.

As long as she believed herself his believer, she could supply him with endless streams of faith energy. In short—Siseon was chasing Wanda.

While Wanda was causing trouble, Ophelia kept calling Siseon. Though he didn't understand Wanda's emotions, his instinct told him: if he answered another follower now, not only would he lose his deal with the Sanctum—he'd lose his Earth agent entirely.

So Ophelia called. Siseon hung up. Ophelia could only use the last remnants of dark energy for defense—no counterattack.

But her body's energy capacity was limited. Soon, her reserves dwindled. She could no longer dodge one bolt and tank two—she had to focus only on evasion.

Then the lightning changed tactics—became even denser, forcing Ophelia into constant movement.

She was chased from New York State, through Mexico, across Colombia, through Brazil, into Argentina, then across the Pacific to Australia.

Then north from Madagascar, through Congo, Sudan, Egypt, all of Europe, along Kazakhstan into Siberia.

When she reached the endless Siberian wasteland, a helicopter suddenly landed before her. A familiar figure stepped out.

"Evan Brown?! You were assassinated! How are you still alive?!" Ophelia, disheveled and wild-eyed, screamed.

"…Wait! Save me! For the sake of our shared service! I've been betrayed by that damned Doctor!"

The white-haired Evan Brown stepped forward, shook her hand, and spoke in Russian: "Hello. Let me reintroduce myself. I am Yevgeny Sakalov, senior KGB intelligence officer."

"Deployed to New York in December 1977 for long-term infiltration. During the mission, joined Hydra's New York State branch."

"Then, with your help, I held positions in the IRS, the Federal Reserve, the Treasury, and… the U. . Congress."

The gray-haired Evan Brown stepped forward, shook Ophelia's hand, and said to her in Russian: "Hello, let me reintroduce myself—I am Yevgeny Sakalov, a senior KGB intelligence officer."

"In December 1977, he went to New York to carry out a long-term infiltration mission, and during the mission joined Hydra's New York State regional organization."

"Subsequently, with your assistance, he held positions successively at the IRS, the Federal Reserve, the Treasury, and… the U. . Congress."

Yefgeni smiled and said:

"Long live Hydra."

Ophelia fell silent.