Tatiana was confused.
The day's training had been abruptly halted.
During their afternoon tea break, Lady Tita had ordered them all back to their dormitories—shepherding them like a flock of sheep.
When Tatiana tried asking one of the softer Sisters for an explanation, she received an unusual response.
"Obey orders."
Sevia did not elaborate.
Before Tatiana could press further, the woman gave her a gentle but firm push.
There was no room for argument.
Tatiana had no choice but to take Vera's hand and start walking back.
Yekaterina—uncharacteristically—sidled up beside her.
Vera lifted her chin defiantly, her face still dusted with cookie crumbs—clearly unwilling to be outdone.
But Yekaterina ignored her.
To her, Vera was nothing more than Tatiana's pet.
The girl's piercing blue eyes, almost transparent, locked onto Tatiana's face.
"I smell blood."
"I saw the Ladies go to the armory."
"They have a mission. Someone's going to die."
Though her voice was calm, there was a spark of excitement in her tone.
She tilted her head, challenging Tatiana.
"What about you, Tatiana?"
"Do you dream of dying in battle?"
---
Once all the girls had returned to their dormitories, Tita summoned every artificial being—except Diana.
They assembled on the training field.
With the aid of mechanical arms, they donned power armor, swapped in new energy packs, and steel wings.
Chainswords and bolt guns were clipped onto their metal belts, along with two grenades each.
Some of the artificial beings wielded heavy bolter rifles—they would serve as the primary fire support.
The formation was precise.
Height—uniform.
Movements—synchronized.
When their helmets snapped into place, mission directives appeared across their HUDs.
Sevia unveiled the red silk cloth in her hands.
Tita grasped the golden longsword—forged by their master's own hands.
Every member of the Sisterhood knelt before the blade, swearing an oath of blood and battle—pledging to fight and die under their master's blessing.
Once the ritual was completed, Tita organized their deployment.
They boarded assault transports and three-story-tall ultra-heavy nuclear-powered tanks.
The vehicles' ammunition was fully loaded—their steel hulls reeking of oil and metal.
Twenty minutes later, the Sisterhood's base was empty.
The girls had been locked inside their dormitories, whispering anxiously among themselves.
Some—those who had survived past battles—could sense it in the air.
Especially the artificial beings' oaths—they were not the same as usual.
But unlike the past, their training had conditioned them not to panic.
Yekaterina was restless, eager to join the fight.
She wasn't alone.
When they watched the assault transports ignite blue plasma thrusters, blasting toward the rock ceiling, disappearing through the sparkling circular gate, their excitement exploded into cheers.
The massive tanks, despite their sheer size, moved with eerie precision, their long cannons and colossal treads disappearing around the training field's bend.
---
Meanwhile, Stephanie's intelligence division—newly assembled—sprang into action.
She called contact after contact, rapidly issuing orders based on live intel feeds.
This was the prelude to Solomon's war—a global campaign that would bring the Eternal City into the light.
---
"You've been drinking."
Natasha Romanoff sniffed the air, then narrowed her eyes at Solomon.
Steve Rogers gave him the same look, as if scolding a young man below drinking age.
But Romanoff's concern was different.
"How much?"
"I need to know if you're still sober enough to function. We have important work to do."
"Just a bottle of whiskey," Solomon said casually.
"And I already know what you're here for."
He handed her a tablet.
The screen played security footage from Washington.
Nick Fury's ambush.
And—the Winter Soldier.
Steve Rogers' expression darkened as he watched the footage.
By the time he looked up, Romanoff had already pulled Solomon aside for a private conversation.
Captain Rogers glanced at the white-haired girl who had been standing silently nearby.
He had seen her before—at Agent Coulson's funeral.
Rumor had it she was one of Solomon's creations—a living machine of flesh and blood.
But to this day, he still couldn't understand how she saw anything with that eyepatch covering her face.
Feeling awkward, he hesitantly returned the tablet.
Diana accepted it politely, then gave a slight bow.
The gesture caught Rogers off guard—he had never met someone so formally respectful before.
---
"So you really do know everything."
Natasha Romanoff smirked, relaxed.
She knew just how dangerous Solomon was.
Among the Avengers, she was one of the few who had witnessed the true power of his holy sword firsthand.
"Mind telling me what's going on?"
"You knew about this years ago, didn't you?"
Solomon adjusted his black tie.
"Being a hundred steps ahead makes you a madman, Natasha."
"I warned Nick Fury about a lot of things."
"He knew I had prophecy magic, but he still refused to truly believe."
"Like a stubborn teenage boy."
"You are still a teenager."
Solomon smirked.
"Your comment makes me feel like a gadfly, but I'm not Italian."
He dropped an academic joke, knowing only Romanoff would get it.
Then, his tone turned serious.
"I gave you a ticket once."
"Are you finally boarding this flight?"
Natasha just smiled, giving no answer.
"I want to know what the hell is happening."
"Who's after Nick Fury?"
Solomon smiled even wider.
"Captain Rogers' old friend."
Standing at over six feet, Solomon patted Steve Rogers on the shoulder.
For the first time, Steve realized how much the kid had grown—he had never experienced a proper growth spurt himself.
The only time he had grown was inside a super-soldier experiment pod.
Solomon took a step back—
And started singing.
"When Captain America throws his mighty shield,
All those who oppose his shield must yield!
If he's led to a fight and a duel is due,
Then the red and the white and the blue'll come through!
When Captain America throws his mighty shield~"
Steve turned bright red in embarrassment.
Then Solomon dropped the bombshell.
"Dun-dun-dun! That old friend… is HYDRA!"
The sorcerer grinned like a gambler, flipping over his winning hand.
He had been preparing for this moment.
At this very instant, his artificial soldiers were approaching key S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities and helicarriers.
He was about to claim an enormous stockpile of technology and resources.
Quinjets.
Aircraft carriers.
Helicarrier blueprints.
Stark Industries' plasma thrusters and arc reactors.
He was about to become the single biggest winner in HYDRA's resurgence gamble.
And once he had everything he wanted—
He would be the biggest snake in HYDRA.
He was HYDRA.
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