Chapter 900

As one familiar official term after another spilled from the speakers' lips, the generals and legislators seated in the audience felt as if they had returned to a congressional session.

Yet they also felt a bizarre, unreal sensation—because this was Heaven, and the so-called victims of the accident now sat beside them, staring with dead eyes.

At that moment, Strange's voice came from the podium:

"The Joint Investigation Team worked sleepless nights, strived tirelessly, and poured out their hearts over a month-long investigation. Now, we announce our findings…"

"Nick Fury, according to our investigation, was killed by a hired assassin. We contacted the assassin himself, who claimed a mysterious individual contacted and hired him. The employer's identity remains unknown, but the assassin described the person as resembling a U. . Army officer—thus, the military bears primary responsibility…"

"Defamation! This is an outrageous slander!" Shouts erupted from the audience. Strange slammed his fist on the table. "Silence!"

"Dr. Dora died from building collapse caused by the Red Monster's invasion of New York. Our investigation confirms the Red Monster's name is 'Red Hulk,' originating from a secret military experiment—the military bears primary responsibility…"

"Wait, that was clearly Ross himself…"

"Silence!" Strange raised his voice. "Spider-Man died in an explosion caused by a fugitive's powers going out of control. The fugitive escaped from the Raft due to prison negligence and government inaction—the prison administration and government bear primary responsibility…"

"Captain America died from the uncontrolled power of a special superhero. This special superhero… oh, wait, Shieler, is he here?"

Shieler stood up, glanced toward the door, and a wolf-headed man entered, dragging behind him the soul of Speedball. Clearly, Speedball, who had been too close to the blast's epicenter, had not escaped—and now he was here.

"I killed Captain America…" Speedball trembled. "I killed a hero, a…"

"Wait!" Shieler raised his hand and stood. "I request a psychiatric evaluation for this suspect. I suspect his mental state is impaired—he is not fully responsible."

Strange nodded. Shieler led Speedball away, then flipped a page in the report. "Tony Stark, Iron Man, died of a heart attack. But our report shows his life-support armor sent a distress signal to New York Elder Council Hospital—and the hospital refused to respond…"

"As a state hospital, failing to answer emergency calls and delaying treatment leading to death—the state legislature and regulatory bodies bear primary responsibility…"

"This is absurd!" A general stood and shouted. "What the hell are you doing? Is this some kind of new play?!"

Strange ignored him entirely. "We have also uncovered a deeper conspiracy behind this event. Someone orchestrated it all—it was no accident."

"Our investigation reveals that the Tarthu Faction, led by General Manley, plotted a series of schemes to expand military authority, including suppressing S. . . . . . and forcing Avengers members into resource shortages…"

"Meanwhile, a political group led by Congresswoman Dachi and State Councilor Cassandra orchestrated a series of conspiracies against superheroes, including manipulating public opinion to incite infighting among Avengers members…"

"This massive loss of humanity's precious talent resulted from both factions acting simultaneously to persecute superheroes and other vital figures…"

At these words, the shouting ceased instantly. Legislators looked at the generals; generals looked at legislators. All knew: Strange spoke the truth.

These two factions had never ceased their attacks on the Avengers and superheroes. Both supported boundless power expansion and harbored deep hostility toward superheroes who stood above the law.

They wanted the superheroes' power, yet feared anyone wielding greater authority than themselves. Among those seated alone, over a dozen could form a hundred factions—each with its own plan, its own agenda, forming cliques and crafting individual conspiracies.

Thus, they fell into a dark forest logic: each knew only whether they had acted, but could not judge others. They did not believe that if they did nothing, others would too. Instead, they assumed others had already acted—so they must act too. And they assumed others thought the same—so they must have acted.

"By decision of the Joint Investigation Team, the above individuals are held responsible for this incident. Now, let Shieler Rodriguez, representative of the United Heaven, announce the resolution…"

Strange nodded, stepped back. Shieler stepped forward. "I deeply regret this tragedy. I mourn the deaths of my superhero friends…"

"But death ends all. Since those responsible have come here, their sins in life are forgiven."

"Of course, the purpose of United Heaven is to grant the virtuous a chance at rebirth. Our resurrection slots are forever reserved for the righteous."

"The Egyptian pantheon possesses the ability to judge the moral heart of the dead. They provided us with detailed data to guide our resurrection decisions."

"First, the highest score goes to Peter Parker—a devout, brave, kind child. He shall be resurrected first!"

The audience erupted in cheers. Spectators from various pantheons smiled knowingly.

Peter nodded to those beside him, walked onto the stage. Shieler opened a glowing white portal. Peter's soul drifted out, entered a cryo-chamber, then stood up.

He stretched his body, shook his head, and waved to the crowd like an Olympic champion exiting the podium.

Shieler smiled at him, closed the portal, then read: "Next is Steve Rogers—strong, kind, just. These words fall short of praising him…"

Steve rose, shook hands with those beside him, waved to the back row, then stepped to the center of the stage. He shook Shieler's hand, embraced Strange beside him, and stepped to the microphone.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank God! Thank you all who never lost faith in justice. I say this: justice never fails. Hold onto kindness. Thank you!"

He stepped into the portal. As his soul returned and his body stood, he gripped the portal's frame just before it closed. "Remember—justice endures!"

"Next is Tony Stark. Wisdom is his weapon. Knowledge is his armor. He gave humanity far more than humanity gave him. A true great man deserves a great resurrection!"

"Tony Stark! Tony… Tony!"

Shieler slammed his fist on the table. Stark jolted awake, dazed. "Is it over? How much compensation do I get? Donate it for me. No thanks…"

"It's your turn to be resurrected," Shieler whispered.

"Resurrected?!" Stark's voice rose. He stood, sizing up Shieler. "You turned Heaven into some shoddy amusement park—and you want me to come back?!"

"I tell you, the first phase of Heaven's renovation must be designed by Stark himself! If you dare use your taste to desecrate the Hall of Heroes, I'll hang your name on the front of your chaotic temple!"

Shieler stood still, closed his eyes, sighed. "Do you even understand the situation? I'm an angel. I'm declaring your resurrection. Can't you just leave?!"

"Not a chance!" Stark stepped out of his seat, walking away. "If you kick me out, I'll expose how you stole Stark Industries' elevators…"

Shieler rolled his eyes. "Do you want me to show you the video of Pepper crying over your corpse? She cried for a week."

Stark froze. He paused, turned back, and as he stepped into the portal, he leaned out and whispered to Shieler: "…give me the video."

After Stark left, the generals and legislators could no longer suppress their murmurs. "Resurrection" sounded like thunderclaps to them.

If this truly was Heaven, it was far from the paradise they imagined—after all, Shieler was here.

Everyone says they want to go to Heaven after death. But ask any person: would you rather die or live? The answer is always the same.

Why die if you can live? Better to cling to life than die nobly. If resurrection is possible, Heaven holds no appeal.

Most of these people were successful, wealthy, powerful, with happy families. They hadn't lived enough. If resurrection was an option, they'd spare no effort.

At that moment, Nick Fury leaned to Dora and said: "Who do you think gets next—me or you? I think it's you, Doctor. You've contributed greatly to humanity…"

Dora shook her head. "No. We both know S. . . . . . protected humanity. Yes, a spy agency can't be spotless—but judging by gains and losses, good and evil, your heart was good. I think it's you next…"

"Nick! Nick! What's this resurrection thing?!" A legislator rushed over. "What's going on?!"

"Literal resurrection. Don't you get it? Humanity now has a Hall of Heroes. You know—the one that resurrects heroes…"

"We're all inside the Hall of Heroes now. Get a resurrection slot, and you come back. Simple. Oh, wait—he called my name. I'm off. See you tomorrow."

As Nick and Dora stepped into the portal, the rest stared anxiously at Shieler. But Shieler was already packing files. Strange beside him was doing the same—as if the meeting had ended.

"Wait! Mr. Rodriguez! What about us? Don't we get judged for good or evil?!" Someone stood.

Shieler looked at him, surprised. He glanced over the man once. "If your name wasn't called, you're disqualified. Do I need to say more?"

"But we—"

The leading generals and legislators blocked him. The general spoke: "This is his trick! We must not fall for it! Let's see how long his little show lasts!"

"Isn't this Heaven? Then we'll stay. We won't get hungry or thirsty. What can he do to us?!"

Others nodded. They sat back down.

Then, the magical screen behind them lit up again. On it appeared Mephisto, in demonic form.

"Hey? Hey, Shieler? Where are the rejected souls you mentioned? I'll send a demon to pick them up. My new Pain Package needs a few test subjects…"

"Oh, Lord Mephisto…" Shieler glanced at the seated generals and legislators. "Just teleport your staff over. They're waiting here. As agreed—payment terms unchanged…"

Mephisto snorted. "I clean up your trash—and you charge me? Clever humans. Fine. Consider it a favor—after all, we'll be colleagues soon…"

He snapped his fingers. Flames erupted in the center of the room. Mephisto's human form appeared. All others had left. Only the legislators and generals remained.

Mephisto strode forward smoothly. "These are them? Let's see… soul vitality is weak—but sin value? Excellent…"

He waved his hand. Chains wreathed in flame lashed out, binding every body. The moment the soul-burning fire touched their souls, all screamed in agony.

Nothing in this world hurt more than direct torment and burning of the soul.

Instantly, all lost their sanity. Shieler stepped forward, stopping Mephisto. "My lord, after all this time, haven't you adapted? Human souls can't endure this. If you bind them like this, they'll disintegrate before reaching Hell…"

Mephisto sneered. "Humans are such a hassle. Fine…"

He extinguished the flames on the shackles—but still dragged them toward the Hell portal. Nearly all were sobbing uncontrollably.

"No!

I don't want Hell!

I can't go to Hell… it's too terrifying!

Help! Jesus! Save me…

Let us go! Let us go! This is a nightmare—wake me up, please…

Shieler and Strange stood arms crossed. Shieler clicked his tongue. "I wonder which Hell package they'll pick. Hell's services are getting awfully professional…"

"Wait… Shieler!"

General Manley screamed: "Save us! We're human! You can't let the devil take us!"

Strange nudged Shieler. "Didn't you hear the old devil? They're test subjects for the new package. No choice."

Shieler shook his head again, leaned close to Strange, whispered. Finally, the two leaders broke down, screaming:

"Save us!

I'll do anything!

Shieler!

We'll pay any price!"

Instantly, the chains snapped open. The collapsed figures saw only polished shoes before them. They looked up—darkness loomed over them.

Through blurred vision, they saw Shieler crouching, wearing a wicked smile.