Chapter Three: The Lich King in Contemplation

Within S.H.I.E.L.D., Nick Fury was holding a secret meeting with his most trusted subordinate, Coulson. Before them, the screen played footage repeatedly—images captured by Natasha’s miniature camera. As an agent, it was perfectly ordinary for her to carry tiny recording devices on her person.

Yet the two men sat in silence.

Since Natasha’s rescue, the black-skinned, one-eyed king of agents had been shocked to discover that his most capable operative’s mental state had become unstable during testing. Something was wrong with Natasha. Her emotional oscillations were now far too extreme—not the mental rhythm one would expect from a high-level agent.

He kept wondering what had happened to her. By what means could her mind be disturbed, when she had survived countless rounds of Red Room conditioning? How could an agent as exceptional as Natasha change so drastically?

She was still useful, but Nick Fury couldn’t help but doubt her abilities now. He was torn, uncertain whether he should continue to rely on her.

He stared at the footage looping on the wall, listening again and again to the shrill cries echoing in the background, analyzing the images frame by frame. At last, Fury turned his gaze to Coulson.

“What do you make of this? Is it a prehistoric creature revived, an alien invasion, or did some archaeologist dig up a forbidden corpse from a lost tomb? Or is it another cult’s evil god descending?”

A monster with a human head and a spider’s body—was this something from myth or legend? Fury considered countless possibilities, rejecting each in turn.

Regardless, if such a threat couldn’t be controlled, it would have to be contained. That was S.H.I.E.L.D.’s inescapable duty.

“As for the identity of this creature…” Fury rapped his knuckles on the table, shutting off the images on the wall before turning to his trusted aide.

“I’m afraid it’s none of those, Director,” Coulson replied. He began to recall in detail everything he could about that night, when he received the signal and rushed to the scene, recounting every detail for Fury. The spider silk had been sent off for analysis; he was confident the results would be available soon.

However, he omitted the part where Natasha had been left hanging, bound and upside-down by spider silk. After all, that scene had been… impressive, to say the least.

Even for a seasoned agent like him, it was difficult not to be shaken.

When Fury finished listening intently, his brow furrowed deeply.

“You’re saying that by the time you arrived, the scene had been completely cleaned up—only Natasha was left, in an abnormal state?”

Coulson nodded. He was absolutely certain of this point; from the moment he received Natasha’s signal to the deployment of backup, he had acted as quickly as possible. Yet, when he reached the scene, Natasha was already in a deeply abnormal condition.

“Yes, sir. According to Natasha’s own description after regaining consciousness, it was as if she’d lost her soul. She could sense her body, but it didn’t feel like hers—caught between illusion and reality, paralyzed by darkness and cold. Whenever our psychologists or instruments tried to probe deeper, her emotions would flare up violently, as if something was shackling her thoughts.”

As Coulson spoke, his face paled. He too wondered what could possibly terrify someone who had endured the trials of the Red Room.

Everyone knows the cunning of demons, but few consider the terror of catastrophes. Demons seek souls, but catastrophes not only drain the soul—they enslave the body, extracting every last ounce of value. Forever.

“I can imagine how that must feel,” Fury said, shrugging slightly as he touched his eyepatch, recalling his own fear when faced with the Devourer.

The first thing Fury and Coulson suspected was a neurotoxin. The assailant was a spider, after all—such a suspicion was reasonable. In fact, they preferred to believe it was some neurotoxin that had transformed Natasha into her current state.

Psychologically, they doubted the existence of a mythological creature. It seemed more plausible that this spider was a product of some bioengineering experiment.

So, it had to be investigated, and such technology must be brought under their control.

“For now, set aside her assignments and have our psychologists focus on Natasha’s treatment. More importantly, monitor every doctor involved—see whether any symptoms spread. Then we’ll reassess our strategies. Keep a close eye on biotech firms, and gather all data related to spiders or spider experiments.”

Of course, Fury hoped Natasha wouldn’t act out as he suspected. But if she did, for the safety of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, even if she was a hero, he would not hesitate to act.

All for the world’s security.

He stood and patted Coulson’s shoulder. Lately, he’d been plagued by headaches; so many unprecedented events had occurred in New York lately that his paranoia was growing worse.

What kind of terror could so utterly unnerve an agent as seasoned and skilled as Natasha?

She must have seen something unforgettable.

“As for Stark, I’ll discuss matters with Colonel Rhodes and assign you an assistant. For now, Agent Coulson, take a proper rest. I’ll personally monitor Natasha’s situation. Tell Hawkeye to secure a perimeter around the incident site—conduct a block-by-block sweep with cameras.”

Fury’s voice was grave. Beside him, Coulson looked up in disbelief.

This vampire is actually giving me time off?

Unbelievable!

If the Director was personally overseeing Natasha’s file, it meant the event was at least Level 8 in secrecy—well above his current Level 7 clearance. Realizing this, Coulson felt resigned.

Yet his instincts told him Natasha’s case wouldn’t be so simple.

As an agent, he knew how to pursue the truth when something seemed off.

He also knew how vital Natasha was. Her identity made her indispensable. She had helped Fury accomplish so many missions and was privy to countless secrets. For whatever reason, her mind needed to be stabilized. If that proved impossible, then there would be only one outcome—a fact that needed no further explanation.

“After your break, assist Hawkeye. Remember, report anything unusual to me immediately, especially anything related to Natasha’s incident. If one block isn’t enough, expand the search. This is important.”

“Yes, sir.” Coulson nodded, committing everything to memory.

“Go on, get some rest.”

Fury dismissed him, saying little more. As he watched his most trusted aide leave, Fury folded his hands on the desk and fell into deep thought.

“This world is becoming more unstable with every passing day.”

Meanwhile, elsewhere, Rhode sat in his room, contemplating the double-digit energy readings and the scattered intelligence reports in his hands. He too was lost in thought.