The underground HYDRA base was a hive of activity, the sterile white walls and harsh fluorescent lights giving the facility a cold, clinical feel. In one of the laboratories, Dr. Martin, the lead researcher, was preparing to begin another experiment. Strapped to the operating table was a teenage boy, unconscious and vulnerable, his fate hanging in the balance. Dr. Martin adjusted his gloves, his face a mask of detached professionalism, as he reached for a scalpel.
But before he could make the first incision, the entire base shook violently. The lights flickered, and the equipment on the shelves rattled ominously. Dr. Martin stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the table. "What is going on?!" he shouted, his voice tinged with panic and frustration.
The door to the lab burst open, and a HYDRA agent rushed in, his face pale and his breathing ragged. "Sir, the base is under attack!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling.
"Under attack? By who?!" Dr. Martin demanded, his anger flaring. He couldn't believe this was happening—not now, not when he was so close to a breakthrough.
The agent opened his mouth to respond, but his words caught in his throat. He froze mid-sentence, his body locking up as if an invisible force had taken hold of him. His eyes darted around frantically, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak.
"Suspected who?!" Dr. Martin shouted, his frustration boiling over. He stepped closer to the agent, his face red with anger. But the agent didn't answer. Instead, his face grew even paler, his eyes wide with terror.
Then, a single gunshot rang out, echoing through the lab like a thunderclap. The agent's body jerked violently before collapsing to the floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. The researchers in the room gasped, their faces frozen in shock.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway outside, slow and deliberate. A cold, growling voice filled the room, sending chills down everyone's spines. "Arise."
Before their eyes, the dead agent's shadow began to stir. It peeled itself off the floor, rising into a dark, humanoid silhouette. The shadowy figure knelt on the ground, its form shifting and flickering like a living shadow. The researchers stared in horror, their minds struggling to comprehend what they were seeing.
"You know, for a researcher and a leader who's supposed to be smart, you're very stupid, Dr. Martin," a voice said, dripping with disdain.
The Wraith stepped into the room, his presence commanding and terrifying. Behind him, more shadowy figures emerged—shadowy replicas of HYDRA agents, armed and ready. Their dark forms moved with an eerie fluidity; their glowing eyes fixed on the terrified researchers.
Dr. Martin swallowed hard, his face slick with sweat. "The Wraith," he said, his voice shaking. "You've been causing us so much trouble lately."
The Wraith smirked, his eyes glinting with cold amusement. "Buying time, I suppose? Don't worry. This base has been wrapped in a cocoon. Nothing can come in or out—not even a signal."
He strolled casually through the room, ignoring the terrified researchers as if they were beneath his notice. His attention turned to the teenager on the operating table. The boy was unconscious, his breathing shallow but steady. The Wraith leaned over him, checking his vitals with a surprising gentleness.
"You're safe now," he murmured, his voice soft. With a swift motion, he ripped the leather restraints holding the boy down. One of the shadow soldiers stepped forward, carefully lifting the teenager and dressing him in a clean set of clothes before carrying him out of the room. The entire time, Dr. Martin and his team could only watch in stunned silence.
Once the boy was safe, The Wraith turned his attention back to the researchers. He leaned casually against the operating table, his expression darkening. "How many people have died on this table?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Before anyone could answer, The Wraith flicked his finger. Instantly, all ten researchers, including Dr. Martin, were forced to their knees by the shadow soldiers. They struggled against the invisible force holding them down, but it was no use. They were completely at The Wraith's mercy.
The room was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The Wraith's gaze swept over the kneeling researchers, his eyes cold and unyielding. "You're going to tell me everything," he said, his voice a low growl. "And if you lie to me, you'll wish you were never born."
Dr. Martin trembled, his mind racing. He had always been in control, always the one holding the scalpel. But now, he was the one strapped to the metaphorical operating table, and The Wraith was holding the knife.
The room was thick with tension, the air heavy with the scent of fear and desperation. The researchers, including Dr. Martin, knelt on the cold floor, their faces pale and their bodies trembling. The Wraith stood before them, his presence imposing and his voice cold as ice.
"Anyone who answers my question will die painlessly," The Wraith offered, his tone devoid of any emotion. It wasn't a promise of mercy—it was a statement of fact. The researchers knew they were far from innocent. They had committed heinous acts in the name of science and HYDRA's twisted agenda. They had always known that one day, karma would come knocking. And now, it had arrived in the form of The Wraith.
One of the researchers, a man with thinning hair and a nervous twitch, opened his mouth to speak. "It's—"
Before he could finish, the shadow soldier standing behind him raised its weapon and fired. The gunshot echoed through the room, and the researcher slumped to the floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. The others flinched; their faces etched with terror.
The Wraith tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "You know what? I've decided to cancel my offer," he said casually, as if discussing the weather. The color drained from the researchers' faces, their hopes of a quick death dashed in an instant. "Once you all become my loyal servants, you'll answer all my questions willingly."
Dr. Martin's eyes widened in horror. "No, no, NO!!! Arrrghh!!!" he screamed, his voice raw with agony and fear. The shadow soldiers moved with mechanical precision, applying HYDRA's own torturous procedures to the very people who had once designed them. The room filled with screams as the researchers were subjected to the same cruelty they had inflicted on countless others.
The Wraith watched impassively, his gaze cold and unyielding. To him, this wasn't vengeance—it was justice. These people had forfeited their humanity long ago, and now they would serve a new purpose.
As the screams echoed through the room, Magina's voice rang in The Wraith's helmet. "Sir, we've gained all that we can from the base. We're ready to destroy it. Awaiting your order."
The Wraith nodded; his expression unchanging. "Understood." He turned to one of the shadow servants, a former HYDRA agent whose dark, shadowy form stood at attention. "Have you looted the entire base?"
The shadow servant bowed its head, its voice a faint whisper that only The Wraith could hear. "Yes, my lord."
"Good," The Wraith said. "Magina, begin the self-destruct sequence. Let's leave this place."
As Magina initiated the countdown, The Wraith turned to leave the room. The shadow servants dissolved into pools of darkness, their forms flowing like liquid shadows before merging into The Wraith's own shadow. It was a surreal sight, one that would haunt anyone who witnessed it.
Today's raid had been different in many ways. For one, The Wraith had reached level 45, unlocking one of his most powerful skills: *Shadow Legion*. In *YGGDRASIL*, this skill had made him a one-man army, allowing him to turn anyone he killed into a shadow servant. These servants retained their skills, memories, and even a sliver of their consciousness and personality. It was a form of necromancy, but one born of darkness and evil. The Wraith didn't care about breaking the balance of the world—his very existence was unnatural, and he had long since stopped worrying about such things.
As he climbed into a waiting truck, one of his shadow servants took the driver's seat while others stood guard. The Wraith leaned back, his mind already moving on to the next task. "Magina, call Michelle Amanda again," he ordered.
Today's raid had yielded more than just destruction. The Wraith had saved thirty people—twenty mutants and ten normal humans. The worst part was that all of them were fifteen years old or younger. They had been subjected to horrors no child should ever endure, and now they were safe, thanks to The Wraith.
As the truck rumbled to life and pulled away from the base, The Wraith allowed himself a moment of quiet reflection. The road ahead was long, and there was still much to do. But for now, he could take solace in the fact that he had made a difference—no matter how small.
Behind them, the HYDRA base erupted in a massive explosion, the flames lighting up the night sky. It was a fitting end to a place that had been a bastion of cruelty and suffering. And as the truck disappeared into the darkness, The Wraith knew that this was only the beginning.