Cul's physique underwent another change.
His thin, hunched figure rapidly surged to over two meters in height.
His face also transformed from that of a withered old man into that of a dignified, sullen, and oppressive middle-aged man.
Dense, dark green ancient runes appeared on his skin:
These were the inscriptions of fear, and behind every single rune lay the dread that a civilization felt towards him.
Sin stood behind him, feeling Cul's strength climb steadily like an inflating balloon, and she could not help but wear a smug smile.
Earth was destined to become Cul's possession.
When he embarked on his new journey, she would serve as his proxy on Earth, completely controlling the seven billion people on this Planet.
She slowly raised her head, her gaze piercing through the dome of the cavern, looking toward the invisible sky.
"Father."
"Do you see this?"
"In the end... I have surpassed you!"
The corners of her mouth curled up slightly; there was madness in that smile, satisfaction, and also a trace of... sorrow that even she herself had not noticed.
...
New York.
S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters.
The conference room was deathly silent.
The LED tubes on the ceiling emitted a pale light, casting a pallor over everyone's faces.
Disaster footage from around the World was still scrolling on the electronic screens.
But no one was watching those images anymore.
Captain America sat at one end of the long table.
His hands were clasped together, resting on the tabletop.
His fists were clenched tight—so tight that his knuckles were turning white.
But he couldn't even say a word.
He wanted to say "We still have hope," but the phrase turned in his mouth three times, and each time, his rationality blocked it.
What would be the point of saying it?
A mortal's hope, in the face of a god, didn't even count as air.
Tony sat at the other end, with three laptops spread out in front of him.
His fingers were frantically tapping the keyboard, attempting to deduce a viable plan to defeat the enemy.
One plan was overturned.
Two plans were overturned.
The seventeenth plan was overturned.
Bang!
The computer was swept onto the floor, its screen shattered to pieces.
Tony took off his glasses and slumped back in his chair as if all the bones in his body had been removed.
No matter how he simulated it, the result seemed doomed to be nothing but despair.
The disparity in strength between the two sides had already exceeded the limit that tactics could bridge.
Natasha sat expressionless in the corner, wiping her tactical dagger.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The blade had long since been polished to a shine, but her hand still did not stop.
This was the only way she could relieve stress.
As long as her hands were moving, she could pretend she was still doing something.
Pretend that things hadn't reached a hopeless point yet.
Harry leaned against the wall, his mouth opening and closing.
He wanted to say something to lighten the mood—a joke, or perhaps a witty remark.
But the words reached his lips only to be swallowed back down.
A god was out there issuing a challenge to the whole World.
Under these circumstances, any joke was nothing more than self-deception.
After a long silence, someone finally spoke.
"No matter what, we cannot just sit here and wait for death!"
The clear female voice rang out suddenly in the deathly silent conference room, like a pebble thrown into a stagnant pool.
Everyone's gaze followed the sound.
Gwen stood at her place.
Her long blonde hair was swept to one side; the expression on her face could not be called relaxed, but in those eyes, something burned that was completely different from the surrounding atmosphere.
It was not blind optimism.
It was trust.
A trust that was almost paranoid, unconditional, and originated from the depths of her soul.
"I believe that as long as we wait for Peter to return—everything will take a turn for the better!"
Hearing the name "Peter," everyone in the conference room subconsciously looked up.
Captain America's fingers loosened slightly.
Tony's tightly closed eyes opened a crack.
Natasha's action of wiping the blade paused.
But then... they lowered their heads again.
Everyone knew that Peter would be the key to turning the tables.
There was no doubt about that.
But the problem was...
Cul's declaration of war had come too suddenly.
His strength also far exceeded everyone's worst-case estimates.
Just by moving a finger, he could submerge more than forty coastal countries around the World.
In the face of such great power...
Could they really hold out until Peter returned from Asgard?
Thinking even deeper... the current situation had deteriorated to such an extent.
Even if Peter really came back, could he really lead them to turn the tide?
After all, that was... a god!
Feeling the silence spreading again in the conference room, Gwen's heart sank little by little to the bottom of the valley.
She clenched her fists.
Even she didn't know what more powerful words she could say to break this despair.
Bang!
Just then, the conference room door was blasted open from the outside by a crimson energy without any warning!
The heavy alloy door panel was blown away like a piece of paper, embedding itself into the solid concrete wall.
Several S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents in the corridor outside instinctively drew their weapons upon seeing this, but before they could even raise their guns, their bodies felt as if they were being gripped by an invisible giant hand.
They still maintained the posture of raising their guns... but they just couldn't pull the trigger.
Because the crimson light had already enveloped their entire bodies before they could.
Following closely, a man and a woman walked in.
Walking in front was a young woman wearing a red leather jacket, her dark brown hair hanging over her shoulders, and scarlet light rolling in her eyes.
Behind her followed a blonde young man, with an expression on his face that said "Whatever my sister says goes," his hands in his pockets, his pace casual.
Wanda Maximoff.
Pietro Maximoff.
"I thought the World-famous Avengers were so great..."
Pietro's gaze swept across the faces of everyone in the conference room, his tone full of undisguised contempt and disappointment.
"Now it seems, you're just a bunch of trash!"
These words were harsh, but at this very moment, the people present couldn't find a single word to refute them.
"Without Peter Parker sitting in command, are you all nothing?"
Wanda's words were even crueler, like a knife accurately stabbing into everyone's sore spot.
There was a two-second silence.
Harry was the first to lose his temper.
He suddenly straightened up from the wall he was leaning against, clenching his fists:
"This is not your place to speak!"
He just wanted to vent the emotions he had been suppressing for a long time, but then he saw Wanda casually raise her finger.
A wisp of crimson energy floated and wrapped around his body.
He found he couldn't move.
His clenched fist remained in the clenched position, but every muscle in his body refused to obey.
The control of Chaos Magic—it was nonchalant to the point of being chilling.
"Think whatever you want!"
Wanda withdrew her gaze, her tone shifting from sharp to indifferent.
She scanned the conference room, which was filled with a decadent atmosphere, as if she hadn't seen anything.
"I thought you wastes would at least be able to help maintain order."
"Directing the evacuation would be fine, stabilizing public morale would be fine, even just standing up and telling the whole World that we still have hope would be fine."
"But now it seems, we can't even count on you for that."
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