A cold wind howled through the desolate sky, shrouding the landscape in an eerie gray. Snowflakes swirled as an immense frost wyrm descended from above, its icy wings stirring up a blizzard.
This place had once been part of Earth's planetary defense system, a vital hub bustling with personnel. Yet now, it stood abandoned—silent, empty. Not a single soul remained.
Garus extended his soul awareness throughout the base. No lingering traces of death. No demonic corruption. No dark energy. Could it be that everyone had simply vanished?
A blur of motion flashed past him. Garus caught a glimpse—Pietro? But something was… wrong.
"Pietro!" Garus called out, only to see him wheel around and charge straight at him, a powerful fist aimed at his chest.
The impact force was far greater than he remembered. Pietro's speed had increased, his strength surged unnaturally. Even the chilling aura Garus released failed to slow him.
After a brief clash, Pietro disappeared once more. No matter how Garus searched, he found no trace of him, as if he had never been there at all.
Strange.
Ahead, a dark tunnel led underground—where the base personnel should have been stationed. Something had gone terribly wrong.
He pressed the elevator button. No response. The entire base's power had been cut. Left with no choice, he turned to the pitch-black stairwell and began his descent.
Minutes later, he encountered the first grisly sign of what had transpired—mutilated corpses strewn along the steps, their flesh torn apart as if by wild beasts.
Yet something was odd.
Where there was death, there should have been spirits—wandering souls lingering in the wake of tragedy. By all rights, he should have sensed them. Yet here, there was nothing. Not a single spectral trace.
A few steps further, Pietro reappeared, eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger.
Garus wasted no time. He summoned forth a vast Desecrated Ground. From the earth, spectral hands clawed upward, latching onto Pietro's legs, dragging him down.
"Pietro, what's happened to you?"
Bound in place, Pietro thrashed violently. His raw strength tore through the spectral grips one by one. Nearly breaking free.
A guttural snarl answered Garus instead of words.
Pietro's eyes were void of reason, pupils a lifeless gray. His face contorted with feral rage, lips curled back in a snarl. Blood stained his mouth, and between his bared teeth—flesh. Strings of sinew still clung between his gnashing jaws.
Like a zombie.
A wet, guttural chewing sound echoed from the shadows. Low, bestial growls accompanied the grotesque symphony. Something was feeding.
A biological outbreak? The eerie scene mirrored every tale of the undead he had ever heard. But this wasn't a bioweapons facility. And this was the Marvel universe—there were no known zombie viruses here.
Garus wasn't particularly afraid. The horrors of the Frozen Throne had been far worse. The creatures he had summoned in the past were far more terrifying.
"The human's consciousness is trapped inside his own body," the Soul Stone's voice murmured within his mind. "Something has severed his link between soul and flesh, warping his body while amplifying his abilities."
Garus frowned. "Can you restore him?"
He was at a loss. If the Soul Stone couldn't undo whatever had happened, he'd have no choice but to bring Pietro back as he was. Wanda would lose her mind.
"I doubt it," the Soul Stone admitted. "But I could extract his soul. You could place it into another body. Though… finding a suitable one would be difficult."
"Forget it." Garus sighed. Pietro waking up in a new body? That wouldn't go well.
A grim realization settled in. Pietro was a powerful mutant—if even he had been infected, and his abilities had been enhanced rather than dulled, then whatever this was posed an unimaginable threat. If it spread, the consequences would be catastrophic.
"There's something else," the Soul Stone continued. "A second soul is forming inside him. If this goes on, Pietro's original soul will either be consumed… or merged."
For the first time, genuine curiosity laced the entity's voice. It had never seen anything quite like this before. Few understood souls in this universe better than Death itself—and the Soul Stone.
Garus clenched his jaw. He had to press forward, find out what was behind this.
"I need meat… I need to eat…"
Pietro's saliva dripped as he stared at Garus, his body trembling with hunger.
"Damn it," Garus muttered. There was no choice but to restrain him.
Chains of ice, spectral binds, and blood magic lashed out, layer upon layer locking Pietro in place. Only once he was utterly immobile did Garus open a portal and hurl him inside.
"I can't cure him," the Soul Stone admitted, "but I've placed a restriction on his body. For now, his soul won't vanish."
Garus was about to respond when a distant, exasperated voice cut through the gloom.
"AHHHH! I'M GONNA LOSE IT! GET YOUR FILTHY, SHIT-COVERED FEET OFF ME, YOU DISGUSTING LITTLE FREAKS!"
Garus blinked.
Was that… Wade?
Deadpool was supposed to be back at the Hell's Kitchen safe house. What the hell was he doing here?
Following the voice, Garus rounded a corner—only to be met with a gruesome sight.
A group of uniformed workers crouched over a mangled corpse, tearing into it with mindless ferocity. Beside them, on the blood-streaked floor, lay a severed head—shouting profanities nonstop.
"…Oh?"
The pockmarked, scarred face. The unmistakable voice.
It was Deadpool.
Only, he looked completely unfamiliar with Garus.
The zombies turned, their bloodied jaws parting in hollow screeches. They abandoned their feast and lunged at him.
Garus didn't even need to try. A few casual sword swings severed them in two, leaving their writhing torsos squirming on the ground.
Something was off.
These zombies were weak.
Too weak to take down Pietro.
Which meant—
"Hey! Watch out!" Wade's disembodied head warned.
Garus barely had time to react before something lunged at him from above.
He slashed out instinctively, but whatever it was, it dodged.
And vanished.
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TN: This fanfic has been fully translated and is available on my Patreon —— PATREON.COM / PRIMALDEMON