Chapter Thirty: The Lich King Wants to Raise the Stakes

General Ross’s attempt to capture the Hulk had failed yet again.

His mood was profoundly sullen; he downed most of his drink in a single gulp, chasing the cigar’s bitter taste. He had nearly succeeded this time, but S.H.I.E.L.D.’s interference had ruined everything. The attitude his daughter displayed toward the Hulk only added salt to his wounds, and the military action’s failure had brought him under intense scrutiny.

The investigation by the military had only just concluded, and the past few days had been anything but pleasant. Alone in his command post, Ross nursed his frustrations with a glass of liquor.

“General, I believe you could use a little help.”

The unexpected voice made Ross turn around. He stared in astonishment at the two figures who had appeared before him without a sound.

The speaker was clad in black armor, long silver hair spilling from beneath his helmet. The decorations on his armor and the sword at his waist lent him a sinister air. Behind him stood a towering, armored brute—over two meters tall—who gave Ross a “friendly” wave with his axe.

The light around them seemed to be absorbed by the first man; a chilling frost surged forth, and a terrifying aura descended.

“I've been watching you for a long time, General Ross.”

“…Who are you?” Ross instinctively reached for his gun.

“I have many identities. You may call me the Harbinger of Destiny, the Ender of All Things, the Unstoppable Calamity, the Irresistible Will, the Cataclysm of Death. I have instigated wars, slaughtered countless lives, wiped out entire races, ignored the rules—but now, I am a man walking alongside fate.”

“As for my name… you may call me Arthas, Arthas Menethil.”

After that lengthy introduction, Ross tried to recall the names, but none stuck.

Despite their bizarre manner, these two had slipped past all the guards to appear in his room—clearly, they were formidable, though perhaps not entirely lucid.

He was about to call for the guards when he found he could not make a sound. His gun crumbled into dust in his hand.

The sudden turn left him terrified; an indescribable will forced him to his knees.

Roald paid no mind to the fear in Ross’s eyes. Instead, he placed a hand on the general’s head, speaking solemnly:

“Mr. Ross, listen carefully to what I am about to say. This is very important, as it concerns your future. You are a man of great justice, General, and justice is what I value most.”

“We come from Shinra, an ancient organization.”

Though unable to move or speak, Ross’s mind remained active. He searched his memory, but found no trace of any ‘Shinra.’

What third-rate company was that?

He had never heard of it.

“Though you may have never heard of our company, we have watched you closely since the inception of your super soldier program,” Roald continued, gesturing to Grommash.

“Our creed is to contain and control uncontrollable beings. Bruce Banner must be strictly kept under watch—more thorough and rigorous than ever before. In fact, this would serve as both an aid and a protection for you.”

“This is our company’s purpose. In some ways, General, we share your views. We also dislike S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Ross, though unable to speak, was skeptical.

Enough with the empty words—he wanted something concrete.

Roald held up “Dark Conversion” before Ross’s eyes. The card radiated a chilling power.

Dark Conversion

Trait: Converts a creature into an undead, granting certain traits based on quality.

Description: The Frozen Throne has encountered resistance in recruiting new employees lately. No banners, no slogans, no parades, no flyers—since the Lich King has no funds, it’s hard to muster any momentum. But with this little treasure, recruitment is possible without spending a penny. Congratulations!

“If the general doubts our capabilities, perhaps you should see this.”

Roald played a video for Ross, showing Vika riding a skeletal steed and crashing into a jeep. “If you doubt the quality of our products, I believe the monsters in Afghanistan will rise to provide the final interpretation.”

Ross suddenly recalled reports about incidents in Afghanistan. At the time, his attention was consumed by the Hulk, so he hadn’t paid much heed—he never expected that the attack on Tony Stark was merely an experiment for their product.

What were they scheming?

And now, his plan had failed, exposing the super soldier program to S.H.I.E.L.D.—and from the tone of these visitors, they seemed to dislike S.H.I.E.L.D. as well.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend?

Or did they have some other motive for helping him?

Ross’s mind raced.

“This is a partnership between Shinra and yourself, General. There’s no need to rush on the Hulk matter. Soon, you’ll receive the good news that he’s been returned to New York.”

“What good news?” Ross asked instinctively, realizing he could speak again.

But the prospect of a solution to the Hulk problem left him with no other choice. In fact, he was intrigued by the mysterious power Roald had demonstrated.

Perhaps their methods for cultivating super soldiers were more advanced and refined.

That was what he wanted.

“The general’s approach to the Hulk is correct—he must be contained. Therefore, Shinra’s operatives will assist in your next operation.”

Upon hearing this, General Ross could not help but smile. He had been under so much pressure lately, he never imagined this mysterious stranger understood him.

Amidst his gratitude, he grew curious about the help Roald had promised.

“Since your company wishes to participate in the next capture attempt, what trump card do you have to seize the Hulk? You must know—it is the Hulk.”

“With this alone.”

Roald shook the “Dark Conversion” card, casually handing Ross a bottle of enhanced “Undead Corrosive Fluid.”

The act of conjuring objects from thin air astonished Ross.

“This vial is a gift from me, General,” Roald said. “You may have any trusted subordinate or elite soldier test its effects. Afterwards, my operatives will temporarily join your task force.”

“And the price?” Ross took the vial, glancing at Grommash.

Roald shot him a look. “Just a bit of the Hulk’s blood.”

“That’s all?” Ross didn’t believe they’d go to such lengths for a mere sample.

“We have an organization that needs the general’s involvement. Perhaps, with the credit from capturing the Hulk and the super soldiers made with our formula, you could secure a minor seat in Congress—then a bit more maneuvering, and the position of Secretary of State may not be so difficult.”

You have S.H.I.E.L.D., I’ll cultivate a Secretary of State.

Ross found that idea appealing—it was a path he had never envisioned, but if the formula worked as promised, combined with the super soldier program, his standing in the military would surely rise.

Why not aim for the presidency itself?

Now, Ross understood their intent.

Their ambitions were far from modest.