In the desolate mountain ranges of Afghanistan, a murderous heat that would make even the sun recoil was scorching the earth.
Between the arid valleys, a pitch-black portal opened, and Níðhöggr stepped out.
His sophisticated black jacket and decadent beauty were jarringly out of place in this dust-blown battlefield.
"Ugh, seriously... I’m going to ruin my clothes."
Níðhöggr furrowed his brow and brushed the sand off his sleeves.
The moment he appeared, members of the 'Ten Rings' waiting in a crude guard post gasped in shock and aimed their weapons.
"Who are you! Hands up!"
"Where the hell did this guy come from!"
Shouts erupted in a chaotic mix of Arabic and English.
Níðhöggr tilted his head lazily and met each of their eyes one by one.
Between his dark hair, his golden eyes flashed with a peculiar light.
It was a gaze imbued with the authority to drag out one's 'desire.'
"Hey, put the guns down and answer my questions. You guys, what do you want to do most right now? Don't make it unfun for yourselves by lying."
As Níðhöggr’s languid voice drifted through the air, a bizarre phenomenon occurred.
The terrorists, who had been about to shoot, suddenly grew glazed eyes and began to speak as if hypnotized.
"I... I actually want to run away from here and go to my sister’s wedding back home... I’m sick of this shit!"
"Money! I want to steal a ton of money and blow it all at a casino!"
"Blowing the leader's head off and taking over this organization—that's my true desire!"
As their secrets and true intentions spilled out, the scene instantly devolved into pure mayhem.
Níðhöggr clicked his tongue in disappointment.
"Your dreams are way too modest for villains. So, Tony Stark is inside that cave, right?"
One of the dazed terrorists nodded blankly.
Níðhöggr moved past them without a second thought, heading toward the dark entrance of the cave.
Behind him, he could hear the sound of the terrorists grabbing each other by the collars and fighting as their hidden truths came to light, but he didn't look back.
Deep inside the cave, reaching a dead-end room where the stench of gunpowder and blood hung heavy, a tragic sight met Níðhöggr's eyes.
Ho Yinsen, a bald man with glasses, was dying from shrapnel embedded in his chest.
And then there was Tony Stark, a monster in steel armor, shouting as if sobbing while holding onto him.
The 'Mark 1' suit, crudely cobbled together from scrap metal, trembled with a heavy, mechanical hum.
"No, Yinsen! Get up! We have to stick to the plan! You have to go see your family!"
Níðhöggr interrupted Tony’s desperate cries with a cold remark.
"Hey, four-eyes. Don't go dying so recklessly in front of a villain. You’re ruining my mood."
Níðhöggr reached out to check Yinsen's condition.
With just a touch of draconic life force, he could instantly regenerate a torn lung or a shredded heart.
But the moment his eyes met the dying Yinsen’s, Níðhöggr paused.
There was no desire to live in Yinsen’s eyes. To be precise, there was no lingering attachment to staying in this hellish world.
He was already basking in the peace of having fulfilled his mission, yearning for the afterlife where his loved ones waited.
Níðhöggr withdrew his hand and muttered softly.
"...Tch, for a scam to work, the victim has to actually want to live. Old man, you don't have a single grain of desire for life in your eyes. Even if I forced you to live, you’d only resent me."
Níðhöggr pushed Tony aside and whispered into Yinsen’s ear.
"Leave your last words quickly. Then go back to your family. I’ll make sure the corpses of these mercenaries are piled up as high as mountains for you."
Yinsen looked at Níðhöggr with a faint smile.
It was a mysterious gaze, as if he had seen through the dragon's true nature.
Then, he used his final strength to take Tony’s hand.
"Don't waste it... your life..."
With those words, Yinsen’s head fell limply to the side.
A heavy silence fell over the cave.
Tony trembled inside his armor, his breath hitching.
Níðhöggr quietly closed Yinsen’s eyes without a word.
Then, he brushed his hand over the rough boulders scattered around.
At the touch of his mana, the cold rocks transformed into soft, pure white silk.
He meticulously wrapped Yinsen’s body in the fabric and laid him to rest.
Then, he turned his head toward Tony, who was staring at him with a mix of grief and suspicion.
"What are you doing? Aren't you going out? Staying here makes that bald guy’s sacrifice for you pointless."
"...Who are you? Are you... even human?"
At Tony’s metallic-tinted question, Níðhöggr gave a decadent smile and pointed toward the exit.
"Me? Your private bodyguard... actually, no, just a lost villain. Come on. Let's go, Wallet... I mean, Mr. Stark."
The moment they stepped out of the cave, they were met by dozens of terrorists and their heavy weaponry.
"They're out! Fire! Mow them all down!"
At the leader's command, hundreds of bullets poured down like rain.
7.62mm rounds whistled through the air, converging on the two men.
Tony instinctively raised his armored arms to cover himself, but Níðhöggr stood his ground, not even thinking of dodging.
Ping! Clang! Rat-tat-tat!
An incredible sight unfolded.
Bullets hitting Tony’s steel armor ricocheted with sparks, while the rounds that struck Níðhöggr’s bare skin crumpled like modeling clay and fell to the ground.
On the skin of a dragon—tougher even than the divine metal known as 'Uru'—not a single scratch remained.
"Guns... how truly primitive. Humans, even after thousands of years, your tools are still so crude."
Níðhöggr shrugged nonchalantly and took a step forward. The ground shuddered with every footfall.
"Hey, you guys. I’m in a pretty foul mood after watching a friend die. So, if you quietly drop your guns and run, I’ll let you live. This is one of the few acts of mercy I’ll show in my entire life."
But the terror-stricken mercenaries had no intention of listening.
Instead, paralyzed by fear, they screamed and held down the triggers of their machine guns until the very end.
Níðhöggr let out a deep sigh.
"Fine, what was I thinking? Mercy isn't for me. A villain has to play his part."
As he lowered his head, the air around them began to heat up to an unsettling degree.
"From now on, it's villain time."
Níðhöggr opened his mouth. An ultra-high-temperature crimson light, something no human throat could produce, flickered within.
"KRAAA-RRRRRR!!"
With an explosive roar, a massive Breath erupted from his mouth.
It wasn't merely fire.
It was a light of destruction that collapsed the molecular structure of all matter.
The crimson flash spread in a fan shape, sweeping across the desert dunes.
Not even a scream was heard.
The terrorists holding guns, the armed trucks they rode, the crates of missiles they had stockpiled—the moment the Breath grazed them, they turned into white ash and scattered in the wind.
Just a few seconds.
When the Breath stopped, nothing remained in the cave's front yard except the glowing red ground and dust floating in the air.
Every trace that dozens of lives had once existed was gone.
Tony Stark stood frozen, his mouth hanging open inside his suit.
It was an overwhelming power that defied even the common sense of a genius engineer.
He was witnessing a catastrophe straight out of mythology.
Níðhöggr wiped the embers from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand as if nothing had happened.
He turned back to the stunned Tony and spoke bluntly.
"What are you doing? Do you want to stand there until you've inhaled a lungful of sand? Let’s go. Your secretary girl is waiting and crying her eyes out."
Níðhöggr snapped his fingers, opening another portal back to Malibu.
Leaving the dumbfounded Tony behind, the decadent dragon disappeared into the portal with a leisurely stride.
Comments (0)
Please log in to leave a comment. Login or Register