Chapter 906: Crimson Sea's Fury (Part 2)

"What is Shiler trying to do?" Stark sat on the sofa in front of the screen, frowning. "He sends teams to raid bases across states, then hires reporters from the Horn Daily to film Spider-Man—what's his game?"

"Oh, that Spider-Man actually went down!" Peter stared at the screen in surprise, though the viewpoint was now Venom's first-person perspective.

Peter said with curiosity, "So this is how my opponents see me? Kind of interesting—it looks like a real spider."

"Wait a minute!" Peter suddenly realized. "He's not the real Spider-Man—he's not me, but… what's that race called again? Skrulls? They're alien Skrulls—why are they playing justice on Earth?"

Nick smiled and said, "That's exactly Shiler's goal. Let me ask you—what is a superhero?"

Peter rubbed his chin. "I think a superhero is someone who does good. I don't even like the word 'super'—a hero is just a hero. A hero does what others can't, steps forward, and saves people from fire and water…"

"You're partially right," Nick replied. At that moment, Stark spoke up: "I think the key word is 'super.' Our extraordinary abilities are what distinguish us from ordinary people."

"Of course, I believe police officers are heroes in the war against vampires—but their ability to solve problems is limited, and they must follow regulations, even their firearms can't exceed standard specifications."

"But I'm different. I can provide all kinds of firepower support, regardless of whether civilians are allowed to possess such weapons. I can use my unique abilities to offer aid beyond the rules—and that's crucial."

Steve thought for a moment and said, "The image of a superhero matters too. All these years, my influence has come entirely from the image of Captain America."

"I admit it—I've never been a charismatic person. Before becoming Captain America, I was even a bit awkward with words."

"But during the war, the government's propaganda around Captain America gave me great fame. Over time, that image settled into the collective memory of a generation as a classic—so people are more willing to listen to me, to trust me."

"Alright, let's summarize these three points as 'intention,' 'ability,' and 'image.' 'Intention' means holding onto justice and kindness, the willingness to do good. 'Ability' means powers beyond ordinary human limits. 'Image' is the most iconic superhero image recognized by the public."

"These three elements together make up a superhero. Now imagine—Skrulls want to impersonate a superhero. Which parts have they already achieved, and which parts are still missing?"

"They've done best with image," Steve shook his head. "So far, I can't see any difference between the man on screen and me. I can't tell the difference between Iron Man or Spider-Man and the real ones either."

"Honestly, if those two appeared before me, I'd believe they're real—even now, I'm starting to doubt which one of you is genuine and which is fake."

Stark snorted. "We came out of Heaven together—have you forgotten already?"

"That's exactly why I dare sit here with you. Otherwise, I'd suspect you've all been replaced."

"That's precisely the Skrulls' goal," Nick tapped the armrest of the sofa lightly. "Once you realize a fake identical to you might be among you, you'll instinctively suspect everyone is fake."

"By destroying trust among the Avengers at its root, we're divided and weakened."

"But while their image is nearly flawless, they have flaws in the other two areas."

"But don't they also fake our abilities?" Peter raised his hand. "Then there's no flaw in ability either, right?"

"True, they mimic your abilities perfectly—but the problem is, your abilities themselves have flaws," Nick rested his chin on his hand. "We'll discuss your weaknesses later. The one undeniable issue is this: you're only one person. One person has two legs, two arms. You can't be in two places at once—otherwise, you're exposed."

"I think I get it," Stark narrowed his eyes, watching Spider-Man and Venom fighting on screen. "Shiler caused all these incidents just to stretch them too thin."

"But I still don't understand—what's the point? Why not just eliminate them outright? Why bring them to Earth and make us sit here watching?"

Nick smiled again. "Why we don't go back yet—we'll talk about that later. Let's continue: bigger than ability flaws is intention."

"Skrulls have no desire to save Earth's people—at least, these aliens aiming to divide the Avengers certainly have no goodwill toward us. But the problem is, a superhero's kindness and willingness to help others are essential parts of their identity."

"Let's say—on the rooftop, several cameras are trained on Spider-Man, and a monster that eats human brains appears on the street. If this Spider-Man, following Skrull logic, ignores the impending massacre—and that moment is caught on camera—do you think Spider-Man's image can survive?"

Peter smirked. "Forget ignoring it—even if I'm two seconds late descending, those reporters will scream about it: either I'm slow to react, or I hesitated, or I'm not brave enough…"

Peter sighed. "On forums, people nitpick endlessly: they say I should land with my back to the sun to blind the enemy, or face the sun to get better visibility…"

"In short, Spider-Man can't do anything right." Peter shrugged. "I'm used to it."

"If he really just swung past without caring, Spider-Man's reputation would be ruined. Just the forum crowd would start screaming—I can already imagine what they'd say."

Nick nodded. "Exactly. To have influence, a superhero must maintain a good image. Think about it—Spider-Man who ignores the dying, Captain America who smokes and drinks, Iron Man who's poor and stingy—do you think your original fans would like such images?"

"You don't care about influence—you're doing real work. You think helping one person at a time is enough; what others think doesn't matter. But these aliens can't afford that. Their goal is to use your identities to spark war."

"A superhero pushed to society's margins is useless. They don't want to destroy the world—they want to control it. If they wanted to blow up Earth with superpowers, they'd just mimic Magneto."

"Since they haven't done that, it means they don't want a powerful but socially isolated figure. They want someone close to power, with privileges. The fact they didn't go mad the moment they impersonated you proves they want your social identity."

"If so, they must maintain that social identity—the good image of a superhero."

"Then, if their image matches yours, their ability matches yours, and for some reason, even their acts of punishing evil and helping the good must match yours—aren't they superheroes?"

The three men on the sofa all opened their mouths slightly. Stark rubbed his chin. "I've read psychological texts discussing this ethical question: if a person's memories and personality are copied into another, who is the real one?"

"If someone has Stark's ability, Stark's image, and does exactly what Stark does—is he Stark?"

"Of course, you're the least likely to worry about this," Nick shrugged, looking at Stark. "I'm certain the fake Stark doesn't have Ascension ability—even if he could Ascend, he wouldn't be the Iron Demon God."

"Also, from what I know, Skrulls' mimicry of your abilities isn't flawless. Exact data hasn't been tested, but their mimicked abilities have a slightly lower ceiling than yours."

"For example, Spider-Man's maximum strength might lift a mountain—this impostor's maximum is only four-fifths of a mountain."

"But since daily use never reaches the limit—Spider-Man never lifts mountains in normal life, just fights ordinary criminals—the gap in strength limits is hard to detect, so the disguise appears perfect."

Nick leaned back in his chair. "That's also why they didn't replicate Professor X's abilities."

"If they mimicked Professor X, the 20% weakness wouldn't show in daily life—but in direct confrontation with the real one, it would be fatal. A weakened fake Professor X couldn't beat the real one."

"Still, they might have other plans," Nick frowned. "Though openly replacing a telepath is impossible, as long as they aren't discovered, having a hidden telepath could make their plan much easier."

"If they really mimic Professor X, even if they can't brainwash all humans, brainwashing the entire U. . would be extremely dangerous," Stark frowned deeply. "This plan is too reckless—I need to return to New York…"

"Haven't you noticed yet?" Nick looked at the screen. "Why are so many Skrulls circling Shiler? Why go far to find Professor X when he's right here?"

Steve slowly opened his mouth. "You mean… they want to copy Shiler???"

Stark froze in place. "Good God! One Shiler isn't enough? Now we need another identical one?!"

"You've seen more than one Shiler before," Nick shrugged lightly. "You forgot the S. . . . . . consultation? There were at least dozens of Shilers then."

Stark covered his forehead. Steve shielded his eyes. Peter sighed deeply—clearly, all three still bore the trauma of that time.

"But if there really is a Shiler under their control…?" Stark frowned deeply, visibly worried. "If Shiler truly serves the Skrulls, how do we…?"

Nick, however, flashed a brilliant smile. "Just watch—you'll know soon enough."

"Doctor Shiler, you haven't returned to Arkham Sanatorium in a long time. Go back first, handle your recent duties, then we'll meet again," Nick said on screen to Shiler.

Shiler nodded without speaking and left. Watching his back, Nick's expression grew cold. After Shiler fully departed the base, Nick took the elevator down to a deeper secret laboratory.

Inside the lab, a green-skinned alien stepped out of a life-support pod. The green-skinned being saluted Nick with an odd gesture. Nick nodded and asked: "After prolonged contact with Shiler—can you complete the disguise?"

"His memories are too complex—I can't replicate them fully," the alien showed a visibly troubled expression. "I'm not certain I copied all memories, but so far, the life trajectory and memory logic seem intact…"

"That's enough. The situation is more complex than we thought—trouble is everywhere. We need more personnel. Prepare for disguise."

The green-skinned Skrull nodded, returned to the life-support pod, closed his eyes—and his appearance began slowly shifting toward Shiler's.

All kinds of memories swirled in his mind, gradually merging with his own.

But then, certain details from Shiler's memories were amplified—countless words poured directly into the Skrull's mind.

The copied files carried an extremely peculiar "virus," instantly seeping into every corner of the system.

The highly infectious text and examples shattered the Skrull's entire worldview—like a crimson sea in furious surge, waves crashing against the shore.

A profound understanding, realization, and internalization of theory sank deep into the Skrull's mind.

When he slowly opened his eyes, all sounds grew hazy—only the lingering tide carried one distant sigh.

"A specter is haunting Europe…"