Chapter 60

The figures in front of Yelena were practically unrecognizable. The strong, stoic duo was replaced by two men who were clearly exhausted and beaten down, their bodies covered in scratches and their clothes tattered. They stood there, catching their breath, and the woman in the suit of armor realized just how dire the situation had been.

James' expression shifted as he looked at her, a rush of emotions flickering across his face. For a moment, an anger flared in his eyes, a deep resentment that Yelena wasn't the person he had expected, or maybe even hoped, to see. But it faded as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a weary acceptance. His shoulders slumped slightly, the adrenaline that had been fueling him finally beginning to wear off.

The helmet of Yelena's suit retracted, revealing her face. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, and her green eyes scanned the pair before her with concern. "James, Victor," she greeted, her voice gentle. "Are you okay?"

Victor managed a nod, his chest still heaving as he gasped for breath. He tried to speak, but the words came out as a jumble. "Wolves...chasing...Adamantium...heal..." He stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The crunching of gravel beneath Yelena's boots echoed in the otherwise silent environment, accompanied only by the rasping breaths of the two weary men. James' voice, rough from exhaustion, called out to her. His tone bore the weight of concern and resignation, but Yelena merely pressed on, leaving the brothers behind her.

Her helmet slid back into place with a soft hiss, obscuring her features and leaving only a gleaming metal visage in its wake. The suit responded to her command, and from its hidden compartments, two slender long swords manifested into each of her hands. The swords glinted ominously under the harsh Indonesian sun, a testament to their deadly purpose.

These were not just any weapons, but the embodiment of Genoshian technology and magic. Composed primarily of Uru, a metal found only in the cosmic realm of Asgard and the Dwarves' star, the swords were incredibly durable and almost immune to conventional damage. They were further enchanted with potent magic that made them even deadlier in the hands of a skilled wielder.

As she moved with a graceful fluidity that belied the deadly purpose of her actions, Yelena adopted a fighting stance, her swords held at the ready. The anticipation was palpable, an almost tangible force that charged the air with electric tension.

Suddenly, the ground shook with the onslaught of a pack of wolves pouring out from the elevator shaft, their howls echoing ominously. The sight was chilling, the swarm of animals moving as one, a wave of fur, claws, and teeth. But Yelena stood her ground, her silhouette a steadfast sentinel against the onslaught. Her swords gleamed dangerously under the harsh sunlight, a silent promise of the battle to come.

Victor's words, a warning laced with hard-earned caution, fell on deaf ears. Yelena remained motionless, a stoic sentinel rooted in place. There was no response from her, save for the sizzling hum that began to emanate from her swords. Victor's warning about the wolves' regenerative abilities and Adamantium-infused bones had apparently not deterred her.

The metal began to glow, starting from a dull ember and growing to a vivid, pulsating red. The swords seemed to come alive, wreathed in an otherworldly glow, as though they were being forged anew. The air around Yelena shimmered with a mirage-like heatwave, the scorching energy making the leaves of the surrounding vegetation curl and blacken.

The intense heat radiated from the swords, a furnace in open air. The surrounding air rippled with the thermal energy, and the very atmosphere seemed to sizzle in anticipation. The wolves were momentarily taken aback, their animal instincts warning them of the danger. But the swarm was relentless and the wolves pressed on, driven by their predatory nature.

When the first wave of wolves was mere inches from her, Yelena moved. And it was a thing of beauty. She whirled and spun, her movements mirroring the rhythm of a lethal dance. Her heated swords cut through the wolves like they were made of nothing more substantial than hot butter. The superheated blades seared through flesh and bone, the intensity of the heat vaporizing any trace of blood and cauterizing wounds instantaneously.

James and Victor could only watch, wide-eyed and astonished, as Yelena, a lone figure against the swarm, decimated the onslaught. Each sweep of her blade culled the numbers, and the wolves that managed to escape her immediate vicinity limped away, their regeneration thwarted by the severity of their wounds.

The realization that she was systematically dismantling a threat that had taken them hours to barely contain was a sobering one. The dance of death continued, Yelena's swords a whirl of fiery light, each arc leaving devastation in its wake. The smell of singed fur and burnt flesh permeated the air, a stark reminder of the deadly efficiency of Yelena's dance.

With every passing moment, the throng of wolves thinned, their numbers dwindling until only a handful remained, scattered and whimpering in fear. The dance ended as suddenly as it began. Yelena, standing amidst the carnage she had wrought, finally lowered her swords. Her helmet retracted, revealing a face devoid of any strain or fatigue, only the grim satisfaction of a warrior who had bested her foes.

The blazing spectacle of Yelena's lethal ballet gradually cooled off, replaced with a smoky, scorching aftermath. The wolves that were once a daunting swarm were now nothing more than charred remnants scattered across the landscape. As if untouched by the entire ordeal, Yelena simply straightened, her voice echoing across the eerie silence, "A good workout," she mused to herself.

James and Victor, utterly exhausted from their previous struggles, could only gape in shock at her casual remark. The surreal scene of destruction around them was hardly what they would label as a 'workout.' She had taken down an adversary they could barely manage to escape from, and she'd done it single-handedly. The disparity was both humbling and awe-inspiring.

As Yelena walked towards them, she moved with a deliberate grace. Each stride was measured, purposeful. Her path was occasionally interrupted as she dispatched the few remaining wolves that still twitched or squirmed. Each strike was swift, efficient, ending any lingering threat. The superheated blades would cut through the wolves' flesh, creating sizzling lines that would be instantly cauterized.

Approaching the dumbfounded brothers, Yelena deactivated her swords, the intense glow fading until the weapons vanished, dissipating into thin air like an illusion. The blistering heat that previously emanated from them gradually diminished, replaced by the comparatively cool ambient temperature of their surroundings.

The lone warrior then stood before James and Victor, her stern, armored figure silhouetted against the ravaged backdrop. She then performed a slight bow, a clear gesture of respect. The motion was fluid, elegant even, a stark contrast to the raw power she had just displayed.

Straightening, her helmet folded back, revealing a face that seemed untouched by the recent violent dance, her gaze steady. "Hello," she introduced herself in a voice imbued with an accent that held hints of her Eastern European roots. "I am Empress Lydia's elite member, Commander of the Genoshian Empire, Yelena Belova." Her voice was calm, unwavering, echoing the composure she held throughout the fray, a beacon of formidable strength amidst the carnage.

The revelation of Lydia's new title fell heavily onto the air between the trio. James blinked, disbelief washing over his fatigue-laden features. "Genoshian Empire? Empress?" He muttered the unfamiliar terms, confusion deepening the creases on his brow. Lydia was their baby sister, their sweet, stubborn sibling who couldn't keep herself out of trouble. Now she was an Empress?

Victor, despite being more clued in thanks to his prior interaction with Astrid, was equally taken aback. No one had mentioned anything about Lydia stepping into such a commanding role. A grin slowly spread over his face, laughter underlying his words. "Playing queen, is she?" He nudged James, trying to alleviate the confusion with humor.

At his jest, Yelena's eyes flickered, the only sign of her reaction. She appeared slightly affronted by Victor's flippant remark about her Empress. An invisible line had been crossed. In her world, Lydia was an Empress, a leader to be respected and revered, not the subject of casual banter.

Quickly, Yelena masked her initial reaction, schooling her face into a neutral expression. Her training had taught her to maintain a professional demeanor, and she took that lesson to heart. Nonetheless, the brief shift in her demeanor served as a subtle reminder of the reverence she held for their sister and the position she now occupied.

Changing the subject, Yelena stepped forward, extending her armored hand for a formal handshake. "James Howlett, Victor Creed," she addressed each in turn, her tone formal, respectful. "It's an honor to finally meet Empress Lydia's brothers." The reverence in her voice was unmistakable, her posture erect, almost military-like, a clear display of the respect she held for the brothers. Her eyes met theirs, steady and sincere. In that moment, Yelena truly seemed like a sentinel from a royal guard, a protector in service to their sister, the Empress.

The dusty air around the makeshift battlefield hummed with questions as James strove to connect the dots. He turned his gaze back to Yelena, his tired features hardened by newfound suspicion. "What's going on here, Yelena? Did Lydia send you to spy on us?" His tone was accusatory, laden with both exhaustion and confusion.

Victor, catching onto his brother's line of thought, glanced down at his own suit, a faint frown on his face. "You think these things signaled her somehow?" He posed the question more to himself than James or Yelena.

James only nodded in confirmation, his eyes still fixed on the Genoshian soldier. His gaze was expectant, demanding an explanation.

Caught in the crossfire of their questioning stares, Yelena held her ground, maintaining her cool composure. "I assure you, Empress Lydia had no intention of spying on either of you," she began, raising her hands in a calming gesture. "I was sent here by Astrid, at the Empress's behest. She... she was worried about your safety, especially after losing contact with your suits."

At her words, the tension in the air lessened fractionally, giving way to a blend of surprise and suspicion. Yelena continued, "Astrid could no longer monitor your vitals or location once your suits went into a dormant state. We knew only your last known location."

She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I was also tasked to extend an invitation. Empress Lydia would like you to come back, to be with her. And to get your suits recharged." Her tone held a note of trepidation, fully aware of the weight of her message.

James and Victor exchanged a glance, their faces mirroring their shared uncertainty. Yelena's explanation, while plausible, was a lot to process. Lydia was now an Empress. She was worried for them. And she wanted them to return.

"Why now?" Victor asked after a prolonged silence, voicing the question that hung in the air between them. His gaze was sharp as he studied Yelena, waiting for her to elaborate further.

A small breeze whistled through the ruined landscape, carrying with it the faint echo of their battle with the wolves. The sudden stillness provided a surreal backdrop to Yelena's serious explanation.

"There's a lot happening, on a galactic scale," she began, her tone hinting at the weight of her words. "The Genoshian Empire is at the center of it all. These events, they're far more significant than anything happening on Earth currently or in the foreseeable future."

Victor folded his arms over his chest, his expression deep in thought. He was beginning to understand why Astrid might not have disclosed everything. The news was overwhelming, even for him.

Yelena continued, "Empress Lydia is stretched thin. She is trying to manage everything as best she can, with limited resources. The addition of both of you, with your abilities, would help alleviate some of that burden."

Silence hung in the air, as James and Victor absorbed the full weight of Yelena's words. They exchanged a glance, a myriad of emotions reflected in their eyes - surprise, confusion, and a touch of worry. They were needed, not just on Earth, but on a scale far greater than they'd ever imagined.

James broke the silence first, his voice weary yet determined. "We've been out of the loop for too long, Vic. Seems like we've got a lot to catch up on."

Victor nodded in agreement, his gaze landing on Yelena. "Alright, we're listening. But we'll need more details, Yelena. What's happening in this 'galactic event'? What's Lydia been dealing with? We're not stepping into this blind."

Yelena gave a small nod, appreciating their willingness to understand. "Of course. I'll share everything I can," she assured them, her eyes reflecting her determination to bridge the gap between the brothers and their estranged sister.