Chapter 381: Have you had enough of attacking? Then it's my turn!
At this moment, the Skrulls Commander on the bridge was standing in front of the holographic projection, looking at the latest assessment report on Earth's defensive forces.
He looked like a human male in his sixties, but that was his transformed form.
His true form was a tall Skrulls, wearing a dark blue uniform with the emblem of the Skrulls Empire on his chest.
"Commander," a Skrulls officer walked over from the other end of the bridge, with a somewhat uneasy expression on his face.
"We have detected spatial fluctuations three kilometers away from the mothership."
"Spatial fluctuations?" The Commander turned around. "What type of fluctuations?"
"Unclear. It's not warp speed, nor is it any kind of spatial propulsion technology known to us. It's like hyperspace jumping."
"Hyperspace jumping!" The Commander frowned.
He walked up to the sensor console, watching the jumping numbers and waveforms on the screen.
Indeed, those waveforms did not belong to any known spatial technology.
It was as if space itself was being folded, torn apart, and then stitched back together.
The whole process had no leakage of excess energy, and no residual thermal or gravitational wave signals.
"Open the external surveillance," the Commander said.
The main screen of the bridge lit up, displaying real-time footage of the outside of the mothership.
The black asteroid belt, sparse starlight in the distance—everything looked completely normal.
Then, right in the center of the screen, space began to distort.
It was not an explosion, nor a flash, but space itself bulged outward like a piece of cloth pushed from behind.
That bulge grew larger and more distinct, finally forming a blue light gate about two meters in diameter in the air.
The Commander's eyes widened as two people walked out of the light gate.
The first was a blonde young woman wearing a black jacket and jeans, her expression as calm as if she were strolling through a supermarket.
Her feet stepped on the void, but beneath her feet, something invisible seemed to be supporting her.
Allowing her to stand and walk in zero-gravity space.
The second was a blue-haired young girl, barefoot, wearing a white dress, with billions of stars reflected in her golden eyes.
After walking out of the light gate, she turned around, and the light gate slowly shrank behind her before finally disappearing.
Two women stood in space, facing the twelve-kilometer-long interstellar mothership.
The Commander stared at the screen, his green face expressionless.
His brain was processing the information of this scene, but every processing result was impossible.
Humans could not survive in a vacuum, nor could they stand in space without wearing spacesuits.
It was even more impossible to resist cosmic ray radiation and absolute zero low temperatures with physical bodies.
But the image on the screen was real, and the data captured by the sensors was also real.
Those two women were indeed standing in space, indeed not wearing any protective gear, and indeed still alive.
"Open the communication channel," the Commander said.
The communications officer operated it a few times and then nodded.
"Individuals of unknown identity, you have invaded the airspace of the Skrulls Empire. Please state your identity and purpose immediately."
The Commander's voice was transmitted through the external speakers of the mothership; in a vacuum, there is no medium to propagate sound.
But the Skrulls' communication technology used a certain principle based on quantum entanglement, allowing sound waves to be directly transmitted in a vacuum.
The blonde woman raised her head, looking in the direction of the mothership.
No, not looking at the mothership, but looking at a specific point on the mothership.
It was as if she could see through the twelve-kilometer distance and several meters thick of armor, directly seeing the Commander on the bridge.
"Our identity is not important. What's important is that we are here to take something from you!"
Number 18 spoke, her voice not loud, but clearly transmitted to the bridge.
The Commander's eyes narrowed.
"What thing?"
"The gene granting device." Nymph took over the conversation, her voice clear and crisp, typical of a young girl.
"Your Skrulls core technology, we need to borrow it."
The bridge fell silent for two seconds, and then the Commander laughed.
"The two of you, standing in space, without any weapons, without any spacecraft, demand that we hand over the core technology of the Skrulls Empire?"
"Yes," Nymph said.
"Refused." The Commander's smile disappeared, and his green face returned to the cold and rigid expression of a soldier.
"You have invaded our airspace and made an absurd request. According to the laws of the Skrulls Empire, I have the right to order your execution."
"Execution? Then I think you are the ones who want to die."
Number 18 sneered coldly, and then stepped through the void toward the mothership.
This sentence made every Skrulls on the bridge feel an indescribable chill.
Not because of the content of the words, but because of the way they were spoken.
When Number 18 said this, her tone was as calm as if she were talking about how the weather was nice today.
There was no threat, no provocation, and no emotion at all.
It was simply stating a fact, a fact whose outcome she had known long ago.
The Commander looked at the two women on the screen, his green lips pressed into a thin line.
"All turrets, lock onto targets," he ordered. "Fire."
The energy turrets on the surface of the mothership turned simultaneously, the muzzles of hundreds of turrets aiming at the two tiny figures standing in space.
Blue energy gathered at the muzzles, forming increasingly bright spheres of light.
Then, at the exact same instant, all the turrets fired simultaneously.
Hundreds of energy beams shot towards Number 18 and Nymph, interweaving into a blue net of death in space.
Nymph did not move.
Number 18 didn't move either, until the energy beams were less than a meter away from her.
She raised her right hand.
Not blocking, not counterattacking, but her fingers traced an arc in the air.
A golden, hair-thin ray of light shot out from her fingertips, drawing a perfect circle in space.
That circle rapidly expanded, turning into a golden light shield with a diameter of about five meters, blocking in front of her and Nymph.
Hundreds of energy beams hit that light shield.
And then disappeared.
It was not an explosion, nor reflection, but devouring and absorption.
The moment the energy beams contacted the golden light shield, they were directly devoured and absorbed.
There was no residual energy, no thermal radiation; it was devoured completely clean.
And this was precisely the new ability Loren developed for Number 18, which allowed her to continuously strengthen herself by devouring any energy, becoming even more powerful.
On the bridge, the Commander's mouth opened slightly.
"Continue firing!" he shouted.
The second salvo, the third salvo, the fourth salvo.
The result of each round was the same. Like a black hole, the golden light shield devoured all the energy it touched completely.
As if she had devoured enough, Number 18 lowered her right hand, and the golden light shield slowly dissipated in space.
"Have you had enough of attacking? Then it's my turn."
Chapter 382: Let them in!
Her right hand lifted once more; this time, her index finger pointed toward the direction of the mothership.
Her finger traced a small circle in the air—not a light shield, but a golden disk one meter in diameter.
The disk spun at her fingertip, emitting a low hum before it flew out.
It did not fly in a straight line, but traversed through space in an unpredictable, erratic trajectory.
It passed through the asteroid belt, bypassed several massive rocks, and then crashed into the group of fighter jets released by the Skrulls mothership.
While Number 18 was counterattacking, the Skrullsmothership released over a hundred combat starships.
Those starships were the most advanced aerial combat units of the Skrulls, each about twenty meters in length.
Equipped with four energy cannons and two interstellar missiles, they were capable of high-maneuverability combat both within atmospheres and in a vacuum.
They flew out from multiple hangar bays of the mothership, forming a three-dimensional attack formation in space that surrounded Number 18 and Nymph in the center.
The golden disk collided with the first combat starship, and the starship was instantly sliced apart from the middle.
There was no explosion, no burning, but rather it was cut into two halves right down the middle by something extremely sharp—so sharp it seemed to be on an atomic level.
The two halves of the starship drifted to the sides, exposing the internal equipment and the Skrulls pilot to the vacuum.
They were instantly killed by cosmic ray radiation and absolute zero temperatures.
The golden disk did not stop.
It continued flying, slicing through the second, the third, the fourth...
With every starship it sliced through, its speed grew a fraction faster, and its trajectory became slightly more erratic.
It was as if it were adapting to this method of attack, optimizing its own combat efficiency.
By the fiftieth starship, it had already turned into an untraceable beam of golden light.
Darting through space at near-light speed, every single trajectory precisely pierced the center of a combat starship.
In less than ten seconds.
One hundred and twenty combat starships.
All of them were sliced in half.
The golden disk flew back to Number 18's fingertip, spun a few times, and then went out.
Her expression did not change in the slightest, nor did her breathing show any alteration.
For a body driven by an infinite energy reactor, this level of energy output could not even be considered a warmup.
On the bridge, the Commander's complexion had turned from green to grayish-green.
He stared at the wreckage of the starships floating in space on the screen.
Looking at those two women who were still standing in place, still completely unscathed, his green lips trembled.
"Th-This is impossible..." His voice was very soft, so soft that only the adjutant beside him could hear.
"Commander, perhaps we need... need to retreat!!!" The adjutant's voice was also trembling.
"Retreat to where? This is our mothership! It is our last—" The Commander abruptly turned around, his eyes bloodshot.
His words were interrupted by a voice.
Nymph's voice came through the main speakers of the bridge, clear as if she were speaking right there on the bridge.
"Your firewall is so fragile!" Nymph said, a hint of disappointment in her tone.
"It took me less than a second to get in.
Your weapon systems, navigation systems, life support systems, and communication systems are all under my control now.
If I wanted to, I could pump out all the oxygen on the mothership.
Or turn the gravity up a hundredfold, or make your reactor overheat and explode."
She paused for a moment.
"But I don't want to; I just want that gene granting device.
Give it to me, and we leave; don't give it, and I will turn this mothership into the largest coffin in the history of you Skrulls."
The Commander looked at the main screen of the bridge, looking at the figures of those two women.
His brain was running at high speed, considering every possible contingency plan.
Continuing to fight, retreating, negotiating, deceiving, buying time.
But every single plan was negated by his own thoughts.
Continue fighting?
One hundred and twenty combat starships were completely wiped out in ten seconds; continuing to fight would simply be a futile march to death.
Retreat?
This was the mothership, their flagship—where was there to retreat to?
Negotiate?
The other party had already given their conditions: hand over the gene granting device, and everything would end.
Deceive?
That blue-haired girl had just hacked all the systems of the mothership in one second; she would not leave any room for deception.
Buy time?
What was the point of buying time?
Wait for reinforcements?
The nearest Skrulls fleet was three galaxies away; by the time they arrived, the mothership would have long since turned into space junk.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
When he opened his eyes again, his gaze had changed.
It did not change from fear to courage, but from fear to resignation and responsibility.
As the Commander-in-chief of the mothership, he had the responsibility to protect every single Skrulls on this mothership.
He had the responsibility to ensure his race would not lose their final flagship in this hopeless battle.
"Let them in, and take them to the core laboratory," he said, his voice hoarse yet steady.
The adjutant looked at him, his mouth opening and closing before finally nodding.
"Yes, Commander."
The outer hull of the mothership opened up before Number 18.
It was not an explosion, nor was it cutting; rather, it was a normal hatch opening according to procedure.
A layer of armor plating flipped outward, revealing the inner airlock chamber.
The lights of the airlock chamber were on, and the internal air was replenished. After the air pressure stabilized, the inner hatch opened.
Number 18 and Nymph walked into the mothership.
They walked down the corridors of the Skrulls mothership, flanked on both sides by green-skinned, pointed-eared aliens in uniforms.
Those Skrulls looked at them, their eyes filled with fear, anger, curiosity, and disbelief.
But not a single Skrulls attempted to attack them.
It was not because they didn't want to, but because the command from headquarters had spread throughout the entire mothership.
"Do not attack! Do not attack! Do not attack! Take them to the core laboratory."
Number 18 walked in front, her pace still as light as a leisurely stroll.
Nymph followed behind, her bare feet stepping on the metal floor and making a slight pattering sound.
Her golden eyes swept back and forth between the equipment on both sides of the corridor and the Skrulls, as if she were strolling through a less-than-interesting museum.
They walked down a long corridor and crossed a huge hangar.
Dozens of combat starships were parked inside, but not a single one took off. Then, they stepped into an elevator.
The elevator moved downward for about thirty seconds, and the doors opened to reveal a huge circular laboratory outside.
The core laboratory.
In the center of the laboratory stood a massive machine—that was precisely their core technology, the gene granting device.
It was about five meters high and three meters wide, shaped like an upright egg.
Its surface was made of silver-white metal, covered in dense lines and nodes glowing with blue light.
At the bottom of the machine were several thick pipes connecting to beneath the floor, and at the top was a circular opening containing a chair.
That was for the Skrulls to sit in when they underwent gene granting.
Chapter 383: Comprehensive Invasion Plan, Permanently Cancelled
The Skrulls Commander stood in front of the machine, his back to it, with no expression on his green face.
He looked at No. 18 and Nymph who walked into the laboratory, his gaze lingered on them for a few seconds, and then looked away.
"This is what you want." The Commander said, his voice so calm that it didn't sound like someone who had just been defeated.
"The gene granting device, the most precious wealth of the Skrulls Empire, you can take it away."
Nymph walked over to the machine, reached out, and touched the silver-white surface.
Her golden eyes lit up, which was her analyzing the structure and function of the machine.
"It's real." Nymph said, turning her head to look at No. 18, "This is what we want."
No. 18 nodded.
She walked up to the Commander, her blue eyes looking at him.
The Commander was a head taller than her, but under her gaze, he felt as if he were standing in front of a giant.
"You'd better stop targeting Earth." No. 18 said, not a question, not a request, but a statement.
The Commander looked at her, his lips twitching slightly.
"Our invasion plan..." He started to speak, but his voice cut off halfway.
"It's over." No. 18 finished the sentence for him.
The Commander was silent for a long time.
Then he nodded.
"It's over." He said, his voice very soft, as if confirming a fact he already knew.
No. 18 turned and walked toward the gene granting device.
She reached out her hands and hugged the bottom of the five-meter-tall machine.
Her arms left slight indentations on the metal surface of the machine, which was the inevitable result of Vibranium-level hardness on ordinary metal.
Then she lifted the machine up.
Five meters high, weighing about forty tons.
For No. 18, this was about the same as an ordinary human lifting a suitcase.
She carried the machine on her shoulder, balanced her center of gravity, and then nodded to Nymph.
Nymph took a small metal device out of her pocket, exactly the same as the teleporter Loren had used before.
She put the device on the ground, took a step back, and activated it with her consciousness.
Blue light gushed out from the device, spinning, condensing, and expanding in the air, forming a huge blue light door.
On the other side of the light door was the underground laboratory of Morgan Manor, where Loren stood in front of the console, his black eyes looking at them through the light door.
No. 18 carried the gene granting device and was the first to walk into the light door.
Nymph followed behind, her bare feet stepping on the metal floor, making a final pattering sound.
The Commander stood in place, watching the blue light door, watching the figures of the two women disappear into the light, watching the light door slowly shrink and finally disappear.
The laboratory returned to silence.
Only the hollows left after the machine's pipes were pulled out, and the deep dents on the ground stepped out by No. 18's feet remained.
The Commander stood there motionlessly, like a sculpture.
The adjutant walked in from the door of the laboratory, stood behind the Commander, and said cautiously, "Commander, our invasion plan?"
"Cancelled." The Commander said, his voice without fluctuation, "The comprehensive invasion plan is permanently cancelled."
The adjutant opened his mouth, wanting to say something.
But seeing the Commander's back, that once straight and arrogant back.
At this moment, it was slightly hunchbacked, as if he had aged ten years in an instant, and he didn't say anything.
He turned and walked out of the laboratory to convey the order.
The Commander stood alone in the center of the empty laboratory, his green eyes looking at the location where the disappeared light door had once existed.
"Earth." He whispered, as if chanting a spell, or making a mark, "Never approach."
He turned around and walked toward the exit of the laboratory.
The footsteps echoed in the empty room, once, twice, three times, getting farther and lighter.
Finally disappeared.
Morgan Manor, underground laboratory.
The blue light door opened again, and No. 18 walked out carrying the forty-ton gene granting device, placing the machine at the location specified by Loren.
The weight of the machine pressed on the floor, making a dull loud noise, and the floor sank slightly by a few millimeters under the heavy pressure.
But this was the underground laboratory of Morgan Manor, and beneath the floor was a solid piece of reinforced concrete foundation, for which forty tons of weight was nothing.
Nymph followed out, stepping barefoot on the floor, her golden eyes looking at Loren, as if waiting for praise.
Loren walked up to the gene granting device, reached out, and touched the silver-white surface.
His gray eyes moved over every detail of the machine.
From the pipe interface at the bottom to the circular opening at the top, from the blue lines on the surface to the internal structures he couldn't see yet.
"Well done." He said.
Nymph smiled, revealing a neat row of teeth.
No. 18 nodded slightly, something flashing in her blue eyes.
That was her smile, understated, but real.
Loren turned around and looked in the direction of the experimental chair.
The Skrulls was still sitting there, and the suppressor on his wrist was still there.
The green eyes looked at the gene granting device that had been carried back, the vertical pupils contracting into two thin lines.
"I said your Commander would change his mind!" Lorensmiled playfully.
The Skrulls didn't speak.
He looked at the machine, looked at Loren, looked at No. 18 and Nymph, his green lips trembling slightly.
He wanted to say something, but in the end, he didn't say anything.
He just lowered his head, looking at his green, currently powerless hands, and quietly closed his eyes.
Loren walked up to him and untied the suppressor on his wrist.
The metal ring loosened, fell to the ground, and made a crisp sound.
The Skrulls opened his eyes and looked at his hands.
The skin was still green, but the energy belonging to the Skrulls that had been suppressed for many days began to flow in his blood vessels again.
He moved his fingers, his fingertips glowing slightly, and then dimming again.
"You are free, you can stay here and continue to be studied by me, or you can return to your people, but there is one thing you need to remember."
The Skrulls raised his head and looked at him.
"This Planet is not on the Skrulls menu, never."
Loren said, his black eyes as calm as a mirror.
The Skrulls looked at him for a long time.
Then he stood up, his legs a bit weak, but he stood firm.
He looked at Loren, looked at No. 18, looked at Nymph, and looked at the gene granting device that had been carried back.
Looking at this underground laboratory where he had stayed for three days, been drawn blood countless times, and had every section of his genes studied.
"I will remember your name and tell every Skrull."
"Earth has a man named Loren, do not approach his Planet, let alone himself."
"Very good, that is the wise move, you can get lost!" Lorennodded.
The Skrulls turned and walked toward the exit of the laboratory.
He walked a few steps, stopped, and didn't look back.
His footsteps echoed in the corridor and finally disappeared in the direction of the elevator.
Loren ignored a Skrulls who posed no threat to him, turned around, and walked toward the gene granting device.
His research could finally continue.
Chapter 384: Capturing a New Skrulls
Tony Stark does not like Brooklyn.
This is no secret; Manhattan is his territory, where Stark Tower, his laboratory, and his familiar skyline and street grid are located.
Brooklyn is too old, too messy, with too many winding alleys and dilapidated buildings.
Every time he comes to Brooklyn, he thinks of things he would rather forget.
For example, Siberia, that video, the alley where Bucky Barnes died.
But the clues point here, so he came.
One o'clock in the morning, the southern end of Brooklyn, an abandoned shipyard.
This is a relic of New York's industrial era, and the once-busy docks were closed decades ago.
All that remains are rusted gantry cranes, cracked cement floors, and a few crumbling factory buildings.
The water of the Hudson River flows slowly beneath the dock, making a low sound of water, like a sleeping giant beast breathing.
Tony is thriving in the Mark L armor, not the full set, but in portable mode.
The armor is stored in the form of nanoparticles in the arc reactor on his chest, ready to deploy at any time.
He crouches on the roof edge of a factory building, with his mask closed, and his red eyes scanning the buildings below in night vision mode.
"Thermal source signal confirmed, the target is located on the second floor of the factory, single person, vital signs match the Skrulls database by ninety-seven percent."
Jarvis's voice rings in his ear, calm and professional.
"Only one person?" Tony asks in a low voice.
"Only one Skrulls has been detected so far, but there are multiple shielding layers inside the factory, and there may be more undetected vital signs."
"So this might be a trap?"
Tony's tone carries a habitual caution and suspicion.
"Analyzed from a tactical perspective, there is a relatively high probability."
"Even if it is a trap, there is no help for it. This is the only Skrulls that has shown its head in three days, and I don't have the capital to be picky."
He retreats from the edge of the roof and lands in the shadow behind the factory building.
The foot thrusters of the armor emit a faint blue light, controlling his falling speed within a silent range.
When he lands, his toes touch the ground first, then the soles of his feet, and finally his heels, the whole process making no sound at all.
Right at this moment, Steve's voice comes through the communicator.
"I am in position, east entrance, field of view covering the second-floor east wing."
Steve's voice is low and steady, carrying that composure peculiar to him that does not change even in the most dangerous situations.
"Natasha?" Tony asks.
"I am in the second-floor west wing, I can see the target's shadow, he is by the window, seeming to observe something."
Natasha's voice rings out, carrying a trace of coldness more than Steve's.
"What about the other S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents?" Tony asks.
"Fury has sent twelve men and has already established a blockade around the perimeter of the factory.
They will seal all exits after we make our move to prevent Skrulls from transforming and blending into the crowd," Natasha says.
"Very good! Action in thirty seconds." Tony nods and says.
"I'll take the front and create chaos, Steve you break in from the east side, Natasha cuts in from the west side, the goal is to capture alive, do not kill."
"Understood," Steve says.
"Received," Natasha says.
Tony walks out from the shadow behind the factory building and heads toward the front door.
His pace is not fast, one could even say leisurely, and the feet of the armor make a slight metallic impact on the cement ground.
He walks to the door, raises his right hand, and a red light lights up on his index finger.
"Time to open the door," he says.
The energy beam hits the iron door.
The door is not blown away; Tony controls the output power, using only five percent power, just enough to burn a 10-centimeter diameter hole in the iron door.
Molten iron drips from the edge of the hole, splashing dark red sparks on the ground.
He reaches through the hole, opens the door lock from the inside, and then pushes the door open and walks in.
The inside of the factory is larger than he expected.
The high ceiling is at least fifteen meters high, with rusted steel beams and dusty skylights above.
The floor is rough cement, scattered with abandoned tools, rusted chains, and a few piles of rags of unknown use.
The air is filled with the smell of rust, engine oil, and some indescribable rot.
The second floor of the factory is a steel-structured corridor extending along three walls, with several doors leading to different rooms.
The Skrulls stand on the second-floor corridor, leaning against the railing, holding a cigarette in hand.
He looks like a White male in his fifties, with gray hair, wrinkles on his face, and wearing a dark blue work jacket.
His posture is very relaxed, like blowing in the wind on his own balcony, rather than waiting to be captured in a surrounded abandoned factory building.
He watches Tony walk in, even takes a puff of the cigarette, and then spews the smoke out from his nostrils.
"Tony Stark, I've been waiting for you for a long time!" the Skrulls says, his voice very hoarse.
Tony stands in the center of the factory, raising his head to look at that Skrulls.
The eyes under the mask narrow.
"You don't seem very surprised?"
"Why be surprised?" the Skrulls says, throwing the cigarette butt on the ground and grinding it out with the tip of his foot.
"You Avengers have always been looking for us, finding me is sooner or later, I just didn't expect you to come personally.
I thought you would send those S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents to die while sitting in the laboratory drinking whiskey."
"I don't drink whiskey," Tony says, the brightness of the palm cannon raised by a notch.
"Scotch single malt, over twelve years old, with a piece of ice, if you can survive tonight, I'll buy you a drink."
The Skrulls smile.
That smile is unlike any smile Tony has ever seen.
Not a human smile, but an imitated smile, completely correct in details but making people feel wrong overall.
Like reading a foreign novel translated with extreme precision but lacking the original flavor.
"Is that so? Then you're definitely buying," the Skrulls sneer and say.
His body begins to change.
Not turning into Silver Surfer, not turning into Hulk, those templates have already been exposed by the failure of the first Skrulls.
He turns into a form Tony has never seen before.
Two point five meters tall, dark red skin, four arms, two curved horns on his head, and eyes that are pure white without pupils.
This is a powerful creature discovered by this Skrulls from another Planet, possessing extremely strong defense and destructive power.
The moment the Skrulls transform, Tony's palm cannon fires.
The energy beam hits the Skrulls's chest, bursting a cluster of blue electric arcs on the dark red skin.
But the Skrulls only takes a step back, lowering his head to look at the position on his chest where he was hit.
There is a charred mark there, but the skin is not broken, the muscles are not exposed, and there is not even any sign that looks like an injury.
"Mark L armor, your armor is advanced, but this still doesn't change anything!"
Chapter 385: Three Against One, the Powerful SkrullsMonster!!!
He jumped down.
From the second-floor corridor to the ground, a height of about eight meters, he made no cushioning motion and fell straight down like that.
His feet smashed into the concrete ground, creating two pits half a meter in diameter, and debris splashed in all directions.
Tony slid backward the instant before landing to avoid the splashing debris, but the Skrulls's speed was faster than he expected.
The deep red arms, two out of the four, swung toward him simultaneously.
Tony activated the armor's thrusters and retreated rapidly backward.
At the same time, the micro-missile launchers on his shoulders opened, and two missiles trailing white smoke shot toward the Skrulls's face.
The Skrulls did not dodge; he blocked the missile with his third arm. The missile exploded on his arm, and flames and smoke engulfed his upper body.
When the smoke cleared, the Skrulls stood in place with some scorch marks on his arm, but that was all.
"Your missiles use high-explosive warheads, and the explosion temperature is about three thousand degrees Celsius," the Skrulls said.
"The heat resistance limit of my skin is five thousand degrees Celsius, and your weapons are ineffective against me, Tony."
Tony did not respond.
He was moving, shuttling inside the factory at supersonic speed.
From the ground to the wall, from the wall to the roof, from the roof to the ground, his trajectory was unpredictable.
His repulsor rays and missiles fired alternately, attacking any part of the Skrulls from different angles that looked like it could be a weakness.
He revolved around the Skrulls at high speed like an angry wasp, hitting the target precisely with every attack.
But the Skrulls stood in place, barely moving.
He blocked most of the attacks with his arms and endured the rest with his body.
Under the continuous energy bombardment, his skin became charred, cracked, and even peeled off.
But beneath the peeled skin was a new layer of thicker, darker new skin.
He evolved in combat, adjusting his own biological structure in the process of taking attacks to develop resistance to Tony's weapons.
Tony noticed this, and his attack frequency began to drop.
"Jarvis, analyze the target's adaptability," he said into the communicator, lowering his voice so the Skrulls wouldn't hear.
"The target is adjusting its biological structure based on your attack pattern." Jarvis's voice remained calm, but Tonycould hear the urgency beneath that calmness.
"After each round of attacks, the target's skin density increases by about seven percent, and its energy resistance increases by about twelve percent.
According to the current trend, with three more rounds of attacks, your repulsor rays will completely fail."
Tony cursed inwardly.
He was about to switch attack modes, changing from energy weapons to physical attacks; maybe hitting it directly with the armor would be more effective.
But right at that moment, the door on the east side was knocked open.
Steve Rogers rushed in.
The newly forged round Vibranium shield spun in his hand, flying toward the Skrulls's head at a tricky angle.
The Skrulls blocked with one arm, and the shield hit his forearm, producing a dull metal clashing sound.
The hardness of Vibranium and the hardness of the Skrulls's bones clashed at that instant,
and Vibranium won; a crack split open on the Skrulls's forearm bone.
The Skrulls let out a low roar—not out of pain, but out of anger.
He turned toward Steve, abandoning Tony, and focused all his attention on the man holding the shield.
His four arms swung toward Steve simultaneously, each punch carrying enough force to pierce a tank.
Steve raised his shield to block. The first punch hit the shield, and he took half a step back.
The second punch hit the shield, and he took a step back.
The third punch hit his right shoulder, which was not protected by the shield, and his entire body flew out, crashing into a rusted steel column.
The steel column bent, and Steve slid down from the column, half-kneeling on the ground with a sharp pain coming from his right shoulder,
not a fracture, but a severe contusion. His arm could still move, but every movement was accompanied by bone-piercing pain.
He raised his head, his blue eyes looking at the Skrulls.
That monster was walking toward him, its four arms waving in the air, with no emotion in its white eyes.
"Steve Rogers," the Skrulls said, the hollow echo in his voice growing louder.
"Your shield is made of Vibranium and is almost indestructible, but your body is not Vibranium."
He raised one arm, clenched it into a fist, and aimed it at Steve's head.
If that punch hit, Steve's skull would shatter within a tenth of a second.
Brain matter would spew out from his ears and nostrils, and his Super Soldier Serum healing ability wouldn't even have time to activate.
But before the fist fell, a red figure lunged over from the side.
Natasha Romanoff.
She didn't know when she had sneaked into the factory from the west side, silently approaching the Skrulls and launching an attack at the very last moment.
Her stun baton was inserted into a certain spot on the Skrulls's neck.
Not a random spot, but one she had observed and calculated within seconds, likely the location of the Skrulls's nerve center.
The stun baton released a high-voltage current, and blue electric arcs exploded on the Skrulls's neck.
The Skrulls's body froze.
His four arms stopped moving simultaneously, and his white eyes flickered a few times, as if his internal circuits were being interfered with.
He let out a muffled sound, sounding like speech yet like a groan, and then suddenly turned his head, fixing his white eyes on Natasha.
Natasha realized at that exact instant that she had made a mistake.
She shouldn't have gotten this close.
One of the Skrulls's arms grabbed her left arm—not striking with a clenched fist, but clamping onto her upper arm with five fingers like five steel nails.
Natasha's bones made a series of subtle cracking sounds under the Skrulls's grip, and cracks appeared in her bones under the immense pressure.
If the pressure increased even a little more, her humerus would shatter like a snapped branch.
Natasha didn't cry out.
Her facial muscles twitched from the pain, but her lips were tightly pressed together, making no sound at all.
With her other hand, she pulled out the dagger at her waist and stabbed it toward the Skrulls's eye.
The tip of the dagger pierced into the Skrulls's left eye, and blood gushed out from the eye socket.
The Skrulls let out a true, pain-filled roar.
He let go of Natasha's arm and flung her away.
Natasha flew across half the factory, crashing into a pile of abandoned metal drums.
The drums collapsed with a harsh metallic clashing sound, and she was buried in the pile of drums, her left arm hanging by her side, her fingers trembling uncontrollably.
Tony launched an attack from behind the Skrulls.
He turned the power of the armor's thrusters to maximum, crashing into the Skrulls's back like a missile himself.
The impact knocked the Skrulls flying, crashing through the west wall of the factory and landing on the open ground outside.
Tony rushed out after him, firing repulsor rays and missiles simultaneously, exploding a series of flames and smoke on the ground.
Steve rushed out of the factory with his shield in hand. The pain in his right shoulder made his movements somewhat stiff, but his gaze remained sharp.
He saw the figure of the Skrulls standing up from the smoke, its dark red skin shimmering with a dull light in the firelight.
One of the four arms hung by its side—that was the arm stabbed by Natasha, which seemed to have temporarily lost its function.
But it still had three arms.
And it was growing a fifth one.
Under the gaze of Tony and Steve, a bulge began to swell at the location of the Skrulls's right scapula.
The bulge expanded rapidly, and a new, thicker, darker arm stretched out from it.
Five arms spread out on the Skrulls's body, like a mutated starfish, with every fingertip flashing dark red energy light.
Chapter 386 You have lost!
"Look," the Skrulls said, its white eyes glowing like two lamps in the firelight.
"I can adapt infinitely. Every attack of yours will only make me stronger, more complete, and closer to perfection."
"You are not defeating me; you are helping me evolve."
Tony stood about twenty meters in front of the Skrulls, with a dozen scratches on the surface of his armor.
The light of the arc reactor on his chest was a bit dimmer than usual; that full-power impact just now had consumed a massive amount of energy.
Steve stood ten meters to his left, his shield covered in dust and the blood of the Skrulls.
The bruise on his right shoulder had swollen up, forming a noticeable lump beneath his combat uniform.
Natasha walked out of the factory, her left arm hanging by her side, her right hand gripping an energy pistol, her red hair stained with dust and blood.
She walked to Tony's right, and the three of them stood in a triangle, facing the monster that was growing a sixth arm.
"Where are the twelve Agents? Why haven't they moved yet?" Tony asked through the communicator, his voice somewhat panting.
There was no response in the communicator.
Tony frowned.
"Natasha? Steve?"
He glanced at the communicator's interface; the signal was normal, the connection was normal, but there was no response at all.
It wasn't a communication failure; no one was speaking.
He raised his head and looked around the factory.
Those twelve S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents should have established a cordon on the perimeter, but at this moment, they were not there.
They hadn't scattered, they hadn't hidden—they simply weren't there.
Within Tony's field of vision, there was not a single shadow of a person, no footsteps, no breathing, no signs of life whatsoever.
"Jarvis, scan the surrounding area."
"Scanning." Jarvis paused for Zero point three seconds.
"Sir, twelve human-sized life signs have been detected around the factory, but their energy signatures..."
"What's wrong with their energy signatures?"
"One hundred percent match with the Skrulls database."
Tony's blood turned ice-cold in that instant.
It was not a metaphor; he genuinely felt a chill surge up from the base of his spine, rushing all the way up his backbone to the top of his head.
His fingers trembled slightly inside his armored gloves.
Not out of fear, but because of a deeper, more primitive alertness—his body was telling him:
You are surrounded, you have no way out.
"Damn it, we've walked into a trap. The twelve Agents on the perimeter are disguised Skrulls."
Tony's voice was lowered very softly, low enough that only the communicator could catch it.
Steve's expression didn't change, but his body turned slightly toward the direction of the factory.
The shield shifted from a defensive posture to a cautious posture, covering his left side and rear.
"Are you sure?"
"Jarvis said so. The energy signatures match."
Natasha gripped her energy pistol tightly with her right hand.
Her left arm was hurting; the pain of the hairline fracture felt like a red-hot iron wire extending from her shoulder all the way to her elbow, but at this moment she completely ignored that pain.
She looked toward the direction of the factory, looking at those dark windows and doorways, her green eyes reflecting the firelight and shadows.
"What about Fury?" she asked.
No one answered.
From the shadows of the factory, twelve people walked out.
They wore standard S.H.I.E.L.D. combat uniforms, wore tactical helmets, and held energy rifles.
Their paces were uniform, as if they had been rehearsed countless times, every step landing at the same time, producing neat footsteps.
Clack, clack, clack, clack.
They walked out from different directions: from the main entrance, from the side doors, from the windows, from the holes in the walls, from the cracks on the roof.
They were not moving scattered; instead, while moving, they formed a perfect encirclement, surrounding Tony, Steve, and Natasha in the center.
Twelve people, twelve energy rifles, twelve expressionless faces.
The person in the very front removed their tactical helmet.
What was revealed was a face Tony recognized—no, not recognized, but had seen before.
Her name was Carter—Tony couldn't remember what the full name was—and she was a squad leader of S.H.I.E.L.D.
In her forties, bald, with a scar on her left cheek, said to have been left behind in some mission ten years ago.
Tony had seen her twice in Fury's office, and each time she stood behind Fury, expressionless like a sculpture.
But now, that face had an expression.
Not a human expression, but a Skrulls expression.
Carter's skin began to change, turning from human dark skin to the green of the Skrulls.
Pointed ears grew from her bald head, and her ordinary human face transformed into a Skrulls face with vertical pupils and slender nostrils.
Other parts of her body were also changing, her build beneath the combat uniform shifting from the standard physique of a prime-aged male to the unique physique of the Skrulls.
Twelve Agents, twelve Skrulls.
Carter—no, that Skrull disguised as Carter—looked at Tony, its vertical pupils flashing with amber light in the firelight.
"Tony Stark," she spoke.
The voice was no longer Carter's low and husky tone, but a smoother, more elastic sound, as if emitted by some musical instrument.
"You came to capture our people, but there is more than one of us. The twelve of us have lurked on this Planet for a full three years.
Playing the role of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most trusted Agents. For three years, you didn't find any abnormalities. Do you know what this means?"
She took a step forward.
"It means you have lost."
Tony's repulsors lit up.
Not a tentative low-power output, but a full-power energy beam powerful enough to blast an armored car into scrap metal.
Two blue beams of light shot out from his palms, heading straight for Carter's face.
He didn't care about killing this Skrull at this moment, at this distance, in this desperate situation surrounded by twelve Skrulls.
The word "capture alive" had already been deleted from the dictionary.
The energy beam hit Carter.
But Carter's body changed the split second before the energy beam touched her skin.
Her skin turned from green to silver—not the flowing cosmic energy silver of the Silver Surfer.
But a hard silver with fine scale textures on the surface.
The energy beam struck those scales and was reflected and scattered, like Water hitting a smooth stone, splashing in all directions.
Carter stood in place, completely unharmed.
"Your energy weapons are useless against us." Carter's voice still retained that smooth, musical texture.
"We have studied every single battle of yours, Tony.
You have dealt with aliens, robots, super soldiers, magicians, gods.
But you have never dealt with a group of enemies who have specifically studied you for three years and designed a nemesis for every single one of your weapons."
She raised her right hand.
Her fingers traced a simple gesture in the air, one that only the Skrulls could understand.
Twelve Skrulls opened fire simultaneously.
Chapter 387: Overwhelming Match
The energy rifles did not fire ordinary energy beams, but rather a dark red plasma crackling with electric arcs that Tony had never seen before.
Twelve dark red beams shot at Tony, Steve, and Natashafrom all directions.
Instead of scattering randomly, they precisely locked onto the vital parts of the three people: the head, heart, and spine.
Steve raised his shield.
The shield blocked the three beams fired at him, but the performance of the Vibranium shield when facing this dark red plasma made his eyes widen.
The surface of the shield was not pierced, but the plasma generated high temperature the moment it hit the shield, heating the surface of the shield to a glowing red state.
The heat was conducted through the shield to his arm, his skin was burning, and the air was filled with a charred smell.
Natasha did not have a shield; she relied on movement.
Under the lock of twelve energy rifles, her body shuttled between the barrage with incredible speed and precision.
Every roll, every jump, and every sidestep of hers managed to avoid the beams fired at her, as if she knew the trajectory of every ballistic line in advance.
But her left arm had a bone fracture.
The injury to her left arm seriously affected her balance and speed.
When avoiding the seventh beam, her left arm could not make a complete swinging motion due to pain, causing her body's center of gravity to shift by a few centimeters.
That deviation of a few centimeters allowed a dark red plasma to graze her right thigh.
It was not a direct hit, just a graze.
But a ten-centimeter-long charred scar instantly appeared on Natasha's thigh, the skin and muscles scorched by the high temperature, making a sizzling sound.
She clenched her teeth and did not cry out, but her body trembled slightly from the pain, and when landing, her right leg failed to support her, causing her to drop to one knee on the ground.
The moment Natasha was hit, Tony had already flown up.
He flew to a height of about fifteen meters, hovering above the factory building, the thrusters of the mark armoremitting blue flames.
He activated all weapon systems of the mark armor.
The repulsors, shoulder missiles, chest pulse cannon, and leg micro-missile launchers simultaneously locked onto the twelve Skrulls on the ground.
"Jarvis, full firepower coverage."
"Sir, this might injure Agent Romanoff and CaptainRogers."
"They can protect themselves! Fire!"
All weapons fired simultaneously.
Dozens of micro-missiles trailing white smoke shot out from various parts of the mark armor, while the repulsors and chest pulse cannon fired dozens of energy beams.
The entire night sky was illuminated by blue-white light in that instant, as if someone had detonated a small Sun on the ground.
The missiles and energy beams covered the area where the Skrulls were located, with continuous explosions, flames and smoke soaring into the sky.
Tony hovered in the air, his chest heaving violently, his face under the mask covered in sweat.
He looked at the flames and smoke below, waiting for Jarvis's scan results.
"Sir, the target's vital signs have not decayed."
Jarvis's voice sounded, carrying a solemnity Tony had never heard before.
In the smoke, twelve figures walked out.
No, not walking, but rising.
Twelve Skrulls rose from the smoke simultaneously, not flying, but hovering.
Their bodies underwent various changes; some people's skin turned into a hard metallic texture.
Some people's body surfaces were covered with a layer of energy shields, and some people's bodies became slender and soft, twisting like snakes in the smoke.
Carter hovered at the very front of the twelve people, her silver-scaled skin gleaming with a dull light in the firelight.
She looked at Tony, with no emotion in her slit pupils.
"Tony Stark, your mark armor is everything to you.
Without it, you are just a fragile ordinary person, and we have twelve ways to disable your mark armor."
She stretched out a finger.
A Skrull stepped out from the formation.
His body did not transform into any combat form; he looked just like an ordinary green-skinned Skrull.
But in his hand was something, a small device about the size of a fist.
Tony recognized that device.
Electromagnetic pulse generator.
Not an ordinary EMP, but a directional electromagnetic pulse device specially designed for the mark armor, whose frequency and waveform were precisely calculated.
It would not affect any other electronic equipment, only Tony Stark's mark armor.
The Skrull pressed the switch of the device.
An invisible electromagnetic wave shot out from the device, accurately hitting Tony's Mark L mark armor.
Tony felt all systems of the mark armor issue warnings simultaneously at that instant.
Thrusters failed, weapon systems went offline, sensors malfunctioned, life support systems switched to backup mode, and communication systems were interrupted.
His body fell in free fall from a height of fifteen meters, crashing onto the concrete ground with a muffled impact sound.
The mark armor did not completely fail, the nanoparticles still maintained structural integrity, and his body was not injured.
But all active functions of the mark armor completely stopped, and he lay on the ground like an overturned turtle, his limbs pinned down by the weight of the mark armor, unable to move.
"Tony!" Steve's voice came from afar.
He rushed toward the Skrull holding the EMP device, his shield spinning and flying out in the air, targeting the Skrull's wrist.
But the shield missed, as another Skrull blocked the front with his transformed body.
His body turned into a huge shield with hexagonal patterns.
The Vibranium shield collided with that black shield, producing a muffled roar, and then bounced back.
Steve caught the bounced shield, but the Skrull that had turned into the black shield had already begun to change.
His body transformed from a shield form into a three-meter-tall warrior covered in black scales from head to toe.
He walked toward Steve, every step causing the ground to vibrate slightly.
Steve raised his shield.
The Skrull's fist smashed down.
Steve blocked with his shield, and the force of the fist smashed his entire body into the ground.
It was not a metaphor, but literally smashed into the ground.
His feet sank about five centimeters into the concrete ground, his knees bent, and his waist bore tremendous pressure.
The shield pressed against his body, his left arm trembling, not because of fatigue, but because of strength.
The Skrull's strength was greater than his, much greater.
The second punch smashed down.
Steve's left leg sank into the ground, his knees almost touching the ground.
The third punch smashed down.
Steve dropped to one knee on the ground.
He raised his head, his blue eyes looking at the three-meter-tall black warrior, looking at its expressionless face beneath the scales.
A trace of blood spilled from the corner of his mouth, because of internal injuries, and because he bit his tongue when he clenched his teeth.
Chapter 388: It's Over
"Captain America, your serum has given you strength beyond human limits, but surpassing human limits does not equal surpassing the Skrulls' limits.
Your limits are merely our starting point."
The black warrior spoke, its voice as deep as thunder.
It raised one foot and stepped on Steve's shield.
The shield was pressed tightly against Steve's body, pinning him to the ground, unable to move.
He tried to struggle, tried to push the shield away, and tried to roll out from the side.
But that Skrull's strength was so immense that all his struggles were like an ant trying to push away a boulder.
Natasha's condition was no better.
Her left arm had a hairline fracture, her right thigh was burned by plasma, and her energy pistol's ammunition had run out after three rounds of firing.
She had no weapons left, only a dagger and her own body.
Her body had already suffered enough damage in the past ten minutes.
But she was still moving, still fighting, still stabbing at any Skrull that approached her with that dagger.
She stabbed a Skrull in the neck.
The dagger pierced in about three centimeters and then stopped.
It wasn't blocked; it was caught.
The Skrull's muscles contracted the instant the dagger pierced in, hardening and clamping onto the blade like a pair of pliers.
Natasha couldn't pull the dagger out; she released the hilt and took a step back.
The Skrull pulled the dagger out of its own neck, glanced at its green blood on the blade, and then snapped the dagger in half.
"Black Widow, your combat skills are the most exquisite I've ever seen.
You don't have any superpowers or any high-tech equipment.
Relying solely on your body and your mind, you've managed to hold out against so many people for so long; I admire you."
The Skrull said, its transformed form being a female, a tall, silver-haired female with amber eyes.
She took a step forward.
"But admiration won't change the outcome."
Her transformed hands were one-third longer than human hands, and her fingers, like five slender snakes, grabbed Natasha's right wrist.
Natasha tried to break free, but the Skrull's fingers wrapped around her wrist like five steel cables, and her bones made a dangerous creaking sound under the pressure.
The Skrull's other hand grabbed Natasha's left shoulder, the exact shoulder with the hairline fracture.
Natasha's lips finally parted, letting out a short, suppressed scream.
Not because she was weak, but because the pain had exceeded the limits a human could endure.
Her left scapula shattered under the Skrull's grip.
Not just a fracture, but shattered; the bone broke into a dozen fragments, shifting beneath her muscles and skin, producing a teeth-gritting grinding sound.
She knelt on the ground.
Not to surrender, not to give up, but because her legs could no longer support her body.
Her right leg was burned by plasma, and the muscle tissue suffered severe damage.
Her left arm had completely lost function, her right hand was pinned, the dagger was broken, and the energy pistol was depleted.
She knelt on the ground, her red hair hanging down to cover half her face, her green eyes gazing at the Skrull before her through the gaps in her hair.
"Kill me," she said, her voice hoarse yet calm.
"Don't be in such a hurry to seek death," the Skrull shook its head, a strange expression in its amber eyes.
Perhaps it was sympathy, perhaps respect, or perhaps just curiosity.
"You will die here, but not now!"
Tony lay on the ground, his armor deactivated and unable to move.
Steve was pinned to the ground, the shield pressing down on his body, unable to roll over.
Natasha knelt on the ground, her left shoulder shattered, right leg burned, and hands pinned.
Twelve Skrulls stood around them, enclosing them in the center like twelve walls.
The factory was burning, flames licking out from the windows and doors, turning half the sky red.
The water of the Hudson River turned dark red in the firelight, like a flowing blood vessel.
Carter, the leader disguised as Carter, walked up to Tony, squatted down, silver scaled skin shimmering in the firelight.
She looked at the face beneath Tony's mask.
The mask was still intact, but the transparent part of the armor had lost its electronic function, turning into a piece of glass unable to provide any information.
"Tony Stark, you are the smartest human I've ever seen.
But cleverness is not power; you have wisdom, wealth, resources, armor, and the heritage and burden left to you by your father.
But these things are not enough when facing an enemy who is truly prepared," Carter said mockingly.
She reached out and tapped Tony's mask.
"You and your friends will die here today, and then I will transform into your appearance.
Return to your laboratory, put on your armor, take over your company, and sleep in your bed.
No one will notice, because I will be more like Tony Starkthan you are, and I will become someone you could never be."
Tony closed his eyes behind the mask.
He recalled many things.
He remembered the time when he first put on the Mark I armor and rushed out of that cave.
He remembered flying into the wormhole carrying a nuclear bomb during the Battle of New York, and fighting with Steve in Siberia.
He remembered the alleyway where Bucky Barnes died.
He remembered all the moments he should have done better, all the tragedies he could have prevented but didn't.
"Jarvis, I'm sorry," he said in the completely silent communication system that had lost power.
No one heard.
Carter stood up, took a few steps back, and looked at her twelve subordinates.
"Do it," she said.
Twelve Skrulls simultaneously raised the weapons in their hands—not energy rifles, but weapons formed by the transformation of parts of their own bodies.
Some turned into sharp blades, some into spikes, and some into energy cannons.
Twelve fatal attacks simultaneously pointed at Tony, Steve, and Natasha.
And then——
Nothing happened.
The movements of the twelve Skrulls stopped at the exact same instant, as if someone had pressed the pause button.
Their weapons hung suspended mid-air, only centimeters away from Tony's throat, Steve's heart, and Natasha's head.
But those weapons no longer advanced, no longer moved, no longer did anything.
Twelve Skrulls, twelve statues.
Carter's eyes widened, she looked at her subordinates, looking at their rigid bodies.
Her vertical pupils contracted to the extreme, the amber iris almost completely swallowed by the black pupils.
"What!!" she spoke.
And then she also stopped.
Not slowly stopping, not gradually stopping, but a complete, instantaneous cessation without any transition.
Like being pressed with a stop button simultaneously from every cell in the body.
Her mouth was still open, the last word hadn't yet been uttered, and her body had already completely frozen.
Chapter 389: Powerful Nymph
Tony lay there, his eyes wide open beneath his mask.
He did not know what had happened.
His armor was still disabled, his body still unable to move, and his vision was still restricted by that transparent, featureless glass.
But he could see the changes in those Skrulls; their bodies no longer moved, and their eyes no longer rolled.
Their breathing—he could no longer hear the sound of breathing.
A voice came through the communicator.
It was not Jarvis, not Steve, and not Natasha.
It was a woman's voice, young and calm, carrying a strange tone, like a student answering a teacher's question in a classroom.
"Tony Stark, your armor has recovered, and you can stand up now."
Tony was stunned for a moment.
Then he felt the armor's nanoparticles begin to flow.
Not flowing slowly and tentatively, but normally and smoothly, as if they had never had any problems.
Thrusters recovered, weapon systems came online, sensors rebooted, and communication systems connected.
All systems restored their functions simultaneously, the warning lights on the panel all went out, replaced by normal green indicator lights.
He bounced up from the ground, his repulsors lit up, and all sensors on the mask operated at full power, scanning everything around him.
Twelve Skrulls stood around, motionless, like twelve frozen ice sculptures.
Outside the factory building, a figure walked in.
No, not just one figure; there were two people.
Walking in the front was a young girl who looked to be around fifteen or sixteen, with long light blue hair, golden eyes, barefoot, and wearing a white dress.
In her hand, she held a small silvery-white device, and Tony recognized it.
It was precisely the EMP generator that the Skrull had previously used to paralyze his armor.
But now, the indicator light of that device was extinguished, and the internal energy core had been completely destroyed by some force.
Walking behind was a woman who looked to be in her twenties, with long golden hair, blue eyes, wearing a simple black jacket and jeans.
Her expression was as calm as if she were strolling through a supermarket, her hands in her pockets, and her steps as light as walking in her own backyard.
The blue-haired girl walked up to Tony, raised her head to look at him, her golden eyes reflecting the red light of the armor.
"Nymph." She pointed at herself, and then turned sideways to point at the blonde woman behind her, "Number 18."
Tony looked at her, his repulsors not lowered.
"Who are you?"
"Sent by my Master Loren," Nymph said, her tone sounding like she was answering a very simple question.
"He said you need help, so we came."
Steve stood up from the ground.
The shield was still pressing on him; he pushed the shield away, crawled up from the ground, and the injury on his right shoulder made his movements somewhat stiff, but he stood very straight.
He looked at the frozen Skrulls, his blue eyes filled with confusion and vigilance.
"What happened to them?" he asked.
"Suppressed by my ability. Emotional manipulation—it's not stopping their thoughts, but making their emotional system enter an infinite feedback loop."
"Their fear is amplified, then swallowed by their anger, then swallowed by their fear, then swallowed by their..."
"In short, they are now trapped within their own consciousness, temporarily unable to control their bodies."
Natasha knelt on the ground, not being helped up.
Not because she did not need help, but because her body no longer allowed her to stand up.
Her left shoulder was shattered, her right leg burned, and her hands had been clamped for too long, causing her blood circulation to be severely obstructed.
She raised her head, her green eyes looking at Nymph and Number 18, her lips moving slightly.
"Loren... sent you?"
"Yes, he said you shouldn't die here."
Number 18 spoke, her voice slightly lower than Nymph's, but equally calm.
Nymph walked up to Natasha, squatted down, and looked at Natasha's injured shoulder and legs.
She reached out, her fingers hovering above Natasha's wound, and a warm golden glow emanated from her palm, enveloping Natasha's body.
At that instant, Natasha felt a strange sense of comfort.
Not anesthesia, not pain relief, but rapid cellular regeneration, reconnection of tissue, and self-repair of bones.
A few seconds later, Number 18 withdrew her hand and stood up.
Natasha moved her left arm; it didn't hurt anymore.
She lowered her head to look at her right leg; the burn marks had completely vanished, and her skin was as smooth as before, without any scars.
She stood up with smooth movements and no discomfort at all.
"You!!" Natasha looked at Number 18, her green eyes filled with incredulity.
"Cellular regeneration acceleration makes your cell division speed hundreds of times faster. You will be hungrier than before, but there are no other problems."
Tony and Steve exchanged a glance.
The wall between them was still there—the unresolved issues, the unsaid words, the unhealed wounds.
But at this moment, amidst those frozen Skrulls, in front of that blue-haired girl and the blonde woman.
They chose to temporarily put those things aside.
"Thank Loren for me!" Tony said as his mask opened, revealing his face covered in dust and sweat.
Nymph tilted her head, her golden eyes blinking.
"Okay," she said, as if this were the most complete answer.
Carter's body moved slightly.
It was not a recovery of control, but an internal tremor independent of will.
Her silvery scaled skin began to fade, turning from silver to green, and from green to pale.
Her slit pupils kept contracting and expanding, as if her eyes were trying to adapt to some constantly changing light.
Her mouth moved, but no sound came out; only her lips parted and closed silently.
Then, she spoke.
Not with her own voice, but with a voice coming from very, very far away, sounding like speaking into the wind.
"All units... cease attack..."
Her subordinates did not respond; they were still in a frozen state.
But Carter's lips continued to move, and the voice came out intermittently, as if reciting an order from afar.
"General headquarters commands the full-scale invasion plan, canceled... Repeat... Full-scale invasion plan... canceled."
"All Skrulls... evacuate Earth... return to the mothership..."
Tony frowned.
"What?"
Carter's lips were still moving, but the voice grew weaker and further away.
It was as if the voice that issued the command to her was receding from her consciousness, like the tide retreating from the beach.
Chapter 390: It's over, it's time to go back!
"You... are lucky..." Carter's eyes finally focused. She looked at Tony, her slit pupils devoid of anger or fear.
There was only something strange, like regret and yet like relief.
"The general headquarters... has changed its mind... You... don't need to die..."
Her body began to change.
It wasn't transforming into a combat form, nor into any other form.
Instead, it was shrinking, transforming from a humanoid, conscious, and threatening existence into an ordinary, non-aggressive creature that just wanted to leave.
Her skin turned back from pale to the distinctive green of the Skrulls, and her silver scales vanished.
Her limbs went from strong to ordinary, and her height shrank from 1.8 meters to 1.7 meters.
She turned into an ordinary Skrull.
No combat form, no energy weapons, no offensive intent.
She turned around and walked out of the factory.
Her subordinates also moved—not because they had regained control of their bodies, but because they had been released from the frozen state by some force.
Their bodies simultaneously went from stiff to soft, from stationary to mobile, changing from soldiers into deserters.
Twelve Skrulls followed behind Carter, walking out of the factory. Their paces grew faster and faster, eventually turning into a trot.
Their bodies changed as they moved, not into combat forms, but into human forms.
Carter turned into a middle-aged White male, wearing an ordinary jacket and jeans.
Another Skrull turned into an Asian female, wearing sportswear.
Another turned into a Black male, wearing a baseball cap.
They turned into twelve completely different, featureless people, disappearing into the night of Brooklyn.
Tony stood in place, watching the backs of those Skrullsdisappear into the darkness.
His repulsors were still glowing, but his hands were trembling slightly.
Not because of fear, not because of anger, but because of an indescribable, nameless emotion he couldn't quite name.
Nymph walked up to Tony, stood on tiptoe, reached out, and gently tapped twice on his mask.
"Your armor needs an upgrade," she said, looking at him earnestly with her golden eyes.
"That EMP device found the frequency characteristics of your electromagnetic shielding layer.
You need a dynamic shielding frequency that changes every second, rather than a static frequency that can be reverse-engineered and cracked."
Tony looked at the blue-haired girl, opened his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately just nodded.
"I'll remember that," he said.
Number 18 had already turned around and walked out of the factory.
Her pace was still as light and steady as if she had just come here to pick up a package, rather than saving the lives of three Avengers.
Nymph followed behind her, barefoot on the shattered glass and dust, making a slight pattering sound.
"Wait," Steve called out to them.
Number 18 stopped without turning around, only slightly tilting her head.
"Tell Loren, thank you," Steve said, a complex emotion he couldn't quite articulate himself flashing in his blue eyes.
Number 18 didn't speak.
She continued walking with Nymph following behind, and the two of them disappeared into the night.
Tony, Steve, and Natasha stood in front of the abandoned factory, amidst the burning flames and dissipating smoke.
None of the three spoke. After a long while, Tony broke the silence.
"So... Loren made a move?"
"It seems so," Natasha said.
"Just him alone—no, he sent two people to make an entire Skrull invasion fleet abandon their plan?"
There was an incredible, almost absurd tone in Tony's voice, "Just... 'Cancel the plan, evacuate all'? Just like that?"
Steve didn't speak. He looked in the direction where Number 18 and Nymph had disappeared, his blue eyes looking profound in the firelight.
"The power of that blonde woman is terrifying. Even if all of us combined, we wouldn't be her match."
"Yes, her name is Number 18, one of Loren's sharpest weapons. Technology that doesn't belong to our Planet is used on her," Natasha explained.
Tony lowered his head, looking at the arc reactor on the chest of his armor.
The blue light shone in the darkness, calm as ever.
But at this moment, the energy core he had always thought was the most advanced appeared so insignificant in front of that blonde woman, like a child's toy.
"I'm afraid I'll never be able to keep up with Loren's pace," Tony said meaningfully.
The wind blew from the Hudson River, scattering the smoke, extinguishing the embers, and rustling the ragged combat uniforms and dust-covered hair of the three people.
In the distance, Brooklyn was brightly lit.
People were sleeping, dreaming, living lives they thought would never be in danger.
They didn't know what had happened tonight, nor that an invasion plan had been cancelled.
They didn't know that twelve Skrulls had just walked past them, turning into their neighbors, colleagues, and friends.
They knew nothing at all.
Tony closed his mask and activated the armor's thrusters.
The thrusters fired at full power, and the gold-and-red figure soared into the sky, dragging a white vapor trail behind in the night sky.
Steve stood in place, watching the direction where Tonyhad disappeared.
"We should go back too," he said, his voice very low, as if talking to himself.
"Yes, it's time to go back and report to Officer Fury!" Natasha nodded and said.
She looked at the direction where Tony had disappeared, something flashing in her eyes.
She was thinking about Loren, wondering how that man who could easily drive her to her wits' end managed to make an entire alien fleet abandon its invasion plan.
She wondered what kind of power it could be to change a race's millennium-old plan in just a few minutes. It was simply terrifying.
"Let's go," Steve said, putting his shield on his back, "We still have things to do."
"What things?"
"Find out whether those Skrulls really left," Steve said, "I don't believe in miracles, I believe in evidence."
He turned around and walked into the darkness with firm steps, the shield on his back reflecting a dark red glow in the firelight.
Natasha took one last look at the direction where Tony had disappeared, and then followed Steve.
The factory was still burning.
The flames danced in the night wind, coating everything around them in a layer of shifting, unsettling red.
There were no stars in the sky, only heavy, low-hanging clouds like a huge gray curtain, blocking out everything that shouldn't be seen.
But above the clouds, in a place where Brooklyn's lights couldn't reach, at a height where the water of the Hudson River couldn't reflect, a single star was twinkling.