Chapter 891: Brilliant Stars (33)

"Asgard?? You just said the Asgardian fleet… how could they appear in the Solar System?? How… could they possibly be trying to…"

General Ross's voice trailed off, his back drenched in cold sweat, but soon a major entered, saluted the generals, and said:

"Sir, we just received a call from the Sanctum Sanctorum; they said Asgard is conducting patrols of the Nine Realms, and Midgard Earth, as a member, must cooperate…"

"Asgard's warships have determined that the sanitation conditions within the Solar System are unacceptable, and they urge us to rectify the situation immediately—there must be fewer space assets, and transport devices and spacecraft must be neatly parked…"

"Additionally, to prevent excessive cosmic traffic accidents, their escort vessels are helping us clean up space debris."

"Also, this cleanup service is charged—the United Nations has published the cleaning bill, other nations have accepted it, and our President is preparing to sign…"

"Don't sign it!!!" the old general roared instantly: "What right do they have… they… we can't… they can't! The President must not sign!!"

Seeing he was becoming incoherent, Ross immediately stepped forward and said: "Where is the President? Stop him immediately—we cannot accept this bill…"

The major looked uneasy and said: "Actually, this bill is quite cheap—the Congress didn't even require a second vote to approve it."

"Moreover, the Sanctum Sanctorum says that Thor, Asgard's new king, intends to forge a new crown and wishes to collect special metals from the Nine Realms, symbolizing unity among them."

"The President believes this might boost vibranium prices, since vibranium is our nation's unique metal."

"The United States holds the second-highest vibranium reserves globally, after Wakanda. If vibranium prices drop too far, our losses will be enormous; if they rise even slightly, it would offset some losses. For this reason, Congress wants to cultivate good relations with Asgard…"

"Moreover, the United Nations says space debris has been a persistent problem since humanity's technological explosion. While we could solve it ourselves, the cost would be too high—they're planning to sign a long-term cleaning agreement with Asgard…"

"General!! General!! Wake up!! Doctor!! Doctor!!" Ross rushed over to catch the old general as he rolled back, eyes rolling upward; all the generals panicked, supporting the unconscious man, utterly at a loss.

That afternoon, the sky over New York remained just as blue; sitting in the car returning from the hospital, Ross felt for the first time the capriciousness of life—and this was only the beginning.

Although the previous two launches failed, they had only sent out simplified versions of the Mother Core, so the losses weren't catastrophic; everyone could only hope for success in the third launch.

The third launch was delayed two weeks; everyone recalculated everything again, eliminating every possible anomaly, striving for one-time success—because success had to come on the first try.

On launch day, nearly all officers of the Taltu faction arrived at the launch center; as the rocket ascended, every heart rose to their throats.

During flight, it avoided space debris, reached its target position without sudden laser weapons, and the base deployed flawlessly—cheers erupted throughout the entire launch center.

Then they saw a tiny dot approaching from afar, drawing closer to the base; compared to the massive Red Gate Base, the figure appeared minuscule, yet it was still captured.

"Intruder?! Quick, quick, quick! Activate the defense systems!! Didn't we install weapons?!?! "

"Activate the weapons! Activate the weapons! Don't let him get near the base!!!"

Generals and researchers shouted, but the technician operating the system wiped sweat from his brow and said: "Impossible! The base just deployed—energy hasn't fully connected to the defense systems yet; power is still transmitting—currently at 13%, it'll finish in three minutes…"

The figure stood far away, appearing only as a tiny black dot in the camera—completely indistinguishable, and seemingly small.

He didn't smash the base's foundation like Magneto did upon appearance, which made everyone believe he couldn't attack the base so quickly.

Yet, the figure seemed to spin in place, then threw something—everyone in the launch center saw a ring of light approaching rapidly, moving with unstoppable force, "whoosh" slicing across the camera, then striking the base's energy core with perfect precision.

When the brilliant explosion reappeared on screen, the generals still didn't know the name of that ring of light—but the glow on their faces was far more radiant than New York's sunset.

The light blazed again; they had never seen the stars of this universe so clearly.

It was still a quiet day on Earth—almost no one knew what had happened in space—but nearly all of New York heard the sound of several hearts breaking.

The next day, the military base's conference room was utterly lifeless; everyone sat in silence, and half the chairs were empty—most had left to explain the incident to their superiors; the rest were in hospitals.

This incident contributed nothing to the military's grand ambitions, but it greatly advanced the promotion paths of younger officers waiting to rise.

Amid the silence, Ross spoke first: "The plan cannot end here—otherwise we'll lose even more…"

Another officer slammed his fist on the table, gritting his teeth: "There's a conspiracy here—someone is sabotaging us!!"

"What about that ring of light yesterday? Didn't anyone go to recover it?" another general asked; the general beside him shook his head: "We sent people—we even got Stark to pull the surveillance footage from the Mercury Base—the ring vanished into thin air…"

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like—in the footage, the ring that destroyed the Red Gate Base vanished instantly—no trajectory was captured, no one knows where it went."

"Moreover, according to Stark's analysis report, the light emitted by the ring doesn't conform to our dimension's optical properties—it's likely left behind by a higher-dimensional entity."

"But who could collude with the United Nations, Asgard, and these so-called higher-dimensional beings? If he had that power, why not just destroy our transporters outright? Why create so many accidents?" asked a young officer, baffled.

"That's precisely the point," another officer tapped the table with his finger: "If someone is secretly targeting us, and he can mobilize other nations to launch space debris, coordinate with Asgard, and even contact these so-called higher-dimensional beings—why didn't he just have Asgard's warships blast our rockets to pieces?"

Ross shook his head—he couldn't understand it either. Logically, if someone wanted to stop this plan—say, mutants—they could simply send Magneto up there and crush the base. Why go through all these elaborate steps? What purpose did it serve except to waste time and energy?

Ross knew himself that the military's transporters and equipment were essentially undefended—because they were developed too long ago; even if they were defended, they couldn't withstand today's weapons, let alone a powerhouse like Magneto.

Moreover, if mutants knew about this plan, they wouldn't be this quiet.

In previous incidents, when they were hunted by Sentinels, they made a huge public spectacle, desperate for the whole world to know they were victims.

Now, the military threatens their fundamental interests—if they knew, not to mention others, Wolverine would be rampaging everywhere demanding answers.

Ross knew well: mutants may seem divided, but they have clear roles—Magneto and Professor Xavier play good cop and bad cop; Wolverine, though seemingly reckless, is actually a bargaining chip in mutant negotiations.

Among female mutants, those like Shadowcat play the victim role, crying on television; while Storm, more radical, gives speeches everywhere and runs her own media accounts to push her views.

If they knew the military's intentions, this would be chaos—X-Men members would launch attacks, the Brotherhood would set fires worldwide, Magneto wouldn't sit idle—he'd threatened the President before.

But now, nothing. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters operated normally; the Brotherhood was silent; Magneto hadn't returned from the Andromeda Galaxy; even his daughter Polaris was missing—nothing suggested their survival was threatened.

Beyond this, Ross couldn't imagine who else could be their enemy.

As for Stark—he hadn't shown any alliance with mutants. Given his personality, if he opposed something, he'd loudly confront Congress, maybe even hold press conferences—he wouldn't vanish into his lab, ignoring phone calls like this.

Asgard and the Sanctum Sanctorum were even less likely—they were transcendent organizations with no need to interfere in Earth's affairs.

Eastern nations only managed their own domestic mutants, handled the issue skillfully, never worried about it, and never took public stances—certainly not during a technological race.

After much thought, the military could only think of one possibility: S. . . . . .

Director Nick Fury had erupted in furious protest during the secret meeting—an unusually strong, vehement opposition, impervious to all persuasion.

As everyone exchanged glances, realizing they all thought of the same man, the conference phone in the center of the table rang. Ross pressed the button; Nick's voice came through:

"Oh, oh, oh… look what I see—someone's spaceship exploded?"

"Did you really launch your own mother into the Sun? What a pity—she doesn't even have a grave. Has Susan next door finally stopped hiding the fact that you're her illegitimate children?"

"I told you all along—you'll never succeed!! Just like this!! One day!! You'll explode with your mother into the Sun!! No remains left!!"

"This is the consequence of your stupid decisions!! Don't expect S. . . . . . to clean up your mess!!"

As a torrent of words needing redaction poured from Nick's mouth, the generals' faces darkened further.

Worse still, the next day Nick leaked the incident to Congress.

Congress had tacitly approved it before—but only if you succeeded. Success meant nothing happened; failure meant embezzlement of military funds.

Moreover, the military had promised many anti-mutant organizations they would succeed; those groups had applied immense pressure.

Nick's unusually firm and public stance cemented the military's conviction that he was the culprit.

After all, S. . . . . . and the military had always been rivals; last time the military betrayed S. . . . . ., they'd been itching for revenge—Nick had ample motive.

He also had the means: S. . . . . ., as a transcendent organization, could easily bribe a nation to launch space debris.

Nick had personally contacted Odin, even hosted Thor and Loki as foster children—getting Asgard's help wasn't surprising. As for higher-dimensional beings, only S. . . . . . could possibly harbor such oddities.

With motive and method confirmed, S. . . . . .'s suspicion became infinite; to the military, this was clearly a S. . . . . . trap—likely a five-year-long scheme to utterly cripple the Taltu faction.

The military's vigilance toward Nick Fury reached its peak—and they officially broke ties with S. . . . . .

To shift blame and reduce pressure, the feud spilled into Congress and the newspapers; though no specific reason was stated, everyone knew the two sides had become mortal enemies.

The military had escalated this precisely because they thought: "I've lost everything—I won't let you escape unscathed"—trying to pressure S. . . . . . into cleaning up their mess.

The military spokesperson took to the media, blasting S. . . . . . director for inaction; the Taltu faction allied with other factions and congressmen to pressure S. . . . . .; many UN nations condemned Nick Fury for incompetence…

One newspaper after another flew across the nation and landed on Shiler's desk.

And on the front page of the final paper, Nick's face was clearly printed, the headline in bold black type:

"Yesterday, a gunshot rang out in Congress—S. . . . . . Director Nick Fury was assassinated, killed on the spot."