NOVEL NEXT Chapter 202: C195
The surrender of Abomination was entirely expected. Leon knew the creature's character well. Power had always been his ultimate pursuit.
When Abomination witnessed the strength of Leon's forces, it was clear he would never settle for being a mere sparring partner—not if he had any sense.
From the very start, when Leon captured Abomination, he instructed Keisha to use Sky Blade Seven to create the first generation of Beast Warrior genes. These were derived from Hulk, Abomination, and other unique sources, including vampires and werewolves.
Leon never doubted Abomination's loyalty. Embedded within the optimized genetic sequence was a command from Sky Blade: absolute obedience. Not only would Abomination never betray Leon, but the thought wouldn't even cross his mind.
This was one of the greatest strengths of angelic civilization's technology.
And Abomination would not be the last. More would follow in his footsteps.
Their purpose was clear: super-powerful, single-combat units. While they couldn't rival god-level entities in a large-scale war, their impact would be devastating in the thick of battle.
These units were tanks—durable yet capable of immense damage. Pure war machines.
But their shortcomings were also evident. Their resistance to magic was inferior to their physical defenses. To address this, Leon planned to have Sky Blade Seven further optimize the genetic sequence of the Beast Warriors, perhaps even incorporating some "Purple Sweet Potato Essence" genes for additional enhancement.
As Leon contemplated these future developments, the hall door opened automatically. A beautiful, slender figure walked in.
Leon recognized the familiar scent before even turning his head.
The figure approached him, her familiar voice breaking the silence.
"After being injected with the super-soldier gene, his strength increased far beyond what I expected."
Leon turned to face the woman, his lips curling into a faint smile.
"Are you worried?"
"I admire your confidence—always have. You seem to have everything under control, but that doesn't stop me from worrying."
Natasha stepped closer to Leon. Her delicate, beautiful face was now mere inches from his, their breaths mingling. Their eyes locked, neither flinching.
"What are you worried about?" Leon asked.
"I'm worried that your confidence might lead to your downfall someday. But, when that day comes, I'll be there to pull you back up," Natasha replied, her eyes hazy, her breath warm and intimate.
"Perhaps that day will come," Leon said, his tone calm yet teasing. "Who knows? You'll just have to wait and see."
"Underneath your calm and cheerful facade, you're full of confidence and mystery," Natasha remarked, stepping even closer.
Her boldness caught Leon off guard.
"You seem a little different today," he observed.
"No," she replied, her voice softer, tinged with something deeper. "I've just realized the boy I once knew has fully matured."
There was a unique aura around Leon now—something Natasha found irresistibly fascinating. Her slightly husky, alluring voice softened further as she spoke.
"What do you do when you see ripe fruit on a tree?"
"So, you're the fruit picker, and I'm the fruit?" Leon teased.
At this moment, Natasha's genes—perfected through angelic optimization—were nearing flawless refinement. Her appearance, skin, even the smallest details like her pores and her aura, exuded perfection. She was like a living succubus, radiating an allure no one could resist.
Leon, however, was no ordinary man. He would never allow himself to be the passive party.
Without hesitation, he slid his hand to Natasha's waist and pulled her into a kiss, their lips meeting passionately. Natasha didn't resist. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his broad back, her bright eyes locking onto his with a hint of a smile.
The kiss lingered, deep and electrifying. When their lips finally parted, a faint glisten remained between them.
Natasha, slightly dissatisfied, opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Leon scooped her up in a princess carry. In the blink of an eye, they disappeared from the hall, leaving only silence behind.
An earth-shattering "battle" was about to begin.
Meanwhile, in a temporary camp set up dozens of kilometers away from a small Mexican town, Thor sat dejectedly in an enclosed room made of special glass. Slumped in his chair, he stared at the ground, lost in thought.
Outside the enclosure, Jane Foster, Daisy, and Dr. Selvig were being questioned by Coulson. The interrogation was thorough to the point of frustration, wearing on the trio's patience.
"Damn it! You've asked the same questions ten times already!" Jane snapped, slamming her hands on the metal table as she stood. "Are you wasting our time? You interrogate us like we're criminals!"
Coulson, unbothered by Jane's outburst, maintained his usual calm smile. Despite his polite demeanor, his words were firm.
"Apologies, Ms. Foster, but this is standard procedure. If you want to continue, we need to ensure everything checks out."
He gestured to an agent standing nearby, who handed him a file. Placing it on the table, Coulson continued, "This contains the necessary documentation. You can verify our credentials using the contact details provided, though I'd suggest skipping that step."
Jane glared at him but didn't touch the file. "We've told you everything we know. What more do you want?"
Coulson's expression didn't falter. He glanced at the trio before speaking calmly.
"Though you may not realize it, your body language tells a different story. From my training in psychology and micro-expression analysis, I observed thirty-seven instances of suspicious behavior during this interview.
You avoided eye contact, made subconscious gestures, and reacted defensively. All these signs point to one conclusion—you're hiding something about the origin of that man. I regret to inform you, your efforts to deceive us have failed."