Chapter 412: The World’s Most Terrible Torture

In Agent Coulson's experience, any mission involving Solomon Damonet rarely concluded in a straightforward manner. Just like this time, both Sif and Lorelei had vanished without a trace. Coulson wanted to worry about the diplomatic fallout between Asgard and Earth, but he was soon informed that the matter had been reassigned to someone else. He had no objections; he knew that the upcoming tasks would be even more challenging. Communicating with Solomon Damonet, with his stubborn nature, was never easy.

Poor Natasha Romanoff would have her hands full this time.

Meanwhile, Solomon felt equally exhausted. He had just barely escaped from a shopping trip with Jeanne d'Arc and Bayonetta, reluctantly agreeing to their demands before fleeing to the Immortal City through a portal. The new prisoner he had captured was far too valuable to risk losing. Lorelei was now confined in a secure underground chamber in the Immortal City, a place accessible only to Solomon and his android maid.

"Gods, can't you cooperate even a little?" Solomon sighed as he removed the magical collar that sealed Lorelei's powers. The retracting metal barrier allowed her to speak again, but instead of gratitude, she glared at him with cold fury. Though the collar was off, her hands and feet remained chained to the rough walls by dark magic. This spell not only restrained her movements but also robbed her of her Asgardian strength, reducing the once-feared enchantress to a frail, helpless figure.

"Nothing to say?"

"There's no need," Lorelei replied calmly. "Unless you plan to give me my clothes back. Or…" she added with a sly smile, "perhaps you enjoy having defenseless women at your mercy? If that's the case, let me down, and I'll make sure you're satisfied. Any position you want—I am your spoil of war, after all. Do with me as you please."

"I'm not that depraved, Lady Lorelei," Solomon replied coolly. "The restraints are purely to prevent your escape. But here's the deal: listen to my proposal, and if we come to an agreement, I'll release you."

Lorelei didn't bother asking what would happen if she refused. She wasn't stupid.

In fact, she was curious about this sorcerer who dared to stand against Asgard. She suspected that while Solomon might not physically harm her too severely, he was likely to impose other forms of torment. But she didn't mind—intimacy, after all, was a means of conquest. If sweet words and kisses had failed, then perhaps her full-bodied allure and natural charm could do the trick. Clearly, Solomon had a plan, one important enough to risk antagonizing Asgard.

If she could seize control, everything would become clear.

"Where's Sif?" she asked, amused. "Did you lock her up somewhere too?"

"She's already back in Asgard, which means we need to act quickly," Solomon said as he dispelled the dark magic binding her. Lorelei fell from the wall, landing with a soft thud. Without a shred of modesty, she rose gracefully and walked past Solomon, who instinctively tensed in case of an attack. But she made no move to strike. Instead, she casually settled into a plush chair belonging to him.

Bathed in the dim amber glow of the room, she regained her regal composure. Her orange-red curls cascaded over her pale shoulders, and her arm rested elegantly on the chair's armrest as she crossed one leg over the other. Her entire presence exuded a warm, seductive radiance.

"I'm listening," she said. "You've proven your strength, and it seems we have common enemies. Few men can resist my power—you're one of them. Though you're crude, brutish, and utterly lacking in charm," she smirked, "I'm willing to negotiate with you on equal terms. Warrior, perhaps we should... share some pleasures first before discussing how we'll rule this world together. I wouldn't mind being your queen."

Solomon chuckled, unfazed by her seductive attempt. After enduring countless tests from far more dangerous witches, Lorelei's tricks were nothing. He calmly walked over to a nearby bookshelf and pulled out a heavy volume.

"Excellent. Let's begin with Democracy in America," he announced with a grin. "After that, we'll move on to An Outline of Modern Western Philosophy. Once we've covered those, we can start discussing how to rule a nation properly."

Lorelei's face fell.

"Is there a problem?" Solomon asked innocently. "Did you think ruling a kingdom was going to be easy?"

"I just... wasn't expecting…"

"Oh, we'll also need to review Microeconomics and Monetary Economics," Solomon added. "You've probably never studied how currency systems work. If you want any authority here, you'll have to learn."

"I—"

"And I've got a copy of the ninth edition of Political Science that should help fill in some gaps."

"…"

Later, in a high-end clothing store, Solomon found himself overwhelmed by the sheer effort required to pick outfits for Jeanne d'Arc and Bayonetta. As soon as the store staff offered him a glass of champagne, however, he relaxed and began to tap into his aesthetic sensibilities—a gift nurtured by Athena herself.

Jeanne's new look was a white, trench-style dress that hugged her figure elegantly, with a cinched waist to highlight her refined grace. To complement her tightly-braided white hair, Solomon chose a pair of red earrings for contrast.

For Bayonetta, Solomon selected a slim, black gown paired with a loose, white blouse. The outfit accentuated her long legs while a black choker and wide-brimmed hat emphasized her swan-like neck.

The witches were more than satisfied with his choices. For garments priced between $500 and $700 each, the results were impressive. Jeanne, however, decided to make things difficult by requesting a more "French" look. Solomon accommodated her by adding a narrow-brimmed hat and a vintage black mesh veil, reminiscent of early 20th-century Parisian fashion.

It wasn't surprising that Solomon knew these trends; Chanel had revived similar styles in the 1980s.

In Solomon's mind, this entire shopping ordeal was far more challenging than his research projects back in the Immortal City. Dealing with fashion trends—even recent ones—was almost as exhausting as educating Lorelei. The witches' next stop was a boutique for custom-tailored clothing, where professional seamstresses would take over. Afterward, they would attend Athena's art salon as the most stunning women in attendance.

But Solomon's thoughts drifted back to the Immortal City.

Until Lorelei's spirit was thoroughly broken, he doubted she would willingly share any Asgardian secrets. If he so much as hinted at his true intentions, she would immediately seize control of the negotiation. Therefore, Solomon wouldn't ask anything directly—yet.

Tomorrow, he would return to check on her progress. He had assigned her several research papers to write. Once she broke down from the pressure of learning, he would strike.

"Damn it!" Lorelei cursed, tugging at her hair in frustration. "How can currency be this complicated? I just wanted to be a queen!"

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