Chapter 155

Hearing Tony's voice through the radio, General Ross's expression darkened.

"You don't need to tell me that," he said grimly. "I've already submitted a request to Base. A batch of specialized weapons is being airlifted as we speak."

Tony let out a small breath of relief at the news.

Drum Base was the nearest federal military installation to New York.

With the military's efficiency, those weapons should arrive at the battlefield soon.

With the sheer strength of the federal forces, taking out a bunch of mutated worms should be an easy task.

It should be… right?

Yet, as Tony watched the worm tide rise once more, an unsettling doubt crept into his mind.

At the front of the surging worm flood—

Survivors, who had barely caught a break after the previous explosion wiped out countless worms, found themselves in yet another nightmare.

Terror and despair returned to their faces.

"Oh God! What did I do to deserve this punishment?!"

"Save me! I don't want to be eaten alive by these disgusting things…!"

"Mom…!"

"Run! Don't just stand there—run!"

At this moment.

Under Ross's command, a few soldiers hoisted rocket launchers onto their shoulders. After a brief aim, they fired.

Boom!

Boom!

Two blazing fireballs erupted—

The explosions once again shattered the rising worm tide into countless pieces.

At the same time, a tank positioned at the far end of the street adjusted its turret, aiming at the still-reforming mass of worms.

Before the tide could fully take shape again—

A shell roared out from the barrel—

Boom!

A massive explosion erupted at the heart of the worm tide, creating a several-meter-wide vacuum zone where no worm remained.

In just a few attacks, the flood of worms was significantly disrupted, and their numbers were visibly reduced.

"Well done!"

A commanding officer couldn't help but celebrate the success of their counterattack.

But his victory was short-lived.

All across the battlefield—

The manhole covers embedded in the streets began trembling violently.

"Buzz… Buzz… Buzz…"

The next second—

An endless stream of revolting worms began pouring out from the sewers.

"Shit!"

Perched atop a building, Tony Stark surveyed the battlefield.

His eyes swept across the area—

More than a dozen manhole covers had been overturned, each one spewing an unrelenting flood of worms onto the streets.

And worse—

Three of those sewer openings were located at the far end of the street.

Right where hundreds—no, thousands—of civilians were trying to evacuate.

Seeing the massive crowd, the bloodthirsty worms reacted like ravenous wolves spotting a fresh meal.

Their excitement was palpable.

The horde surged forward.

Worms wriggled out of the sewer grates, slithering up the pant legs of nearby civilians.

Within seconds, entire bodies were engulfed—reduced to lifeless skeletons, their flesh stripped clean.

At this moment—

The tightly packed crowd of evacuees had become the perfect feast.

A chorus of terrified screams erupted.

The worm tide, like a wild, unrestrained beast, charged forward at full force.

Just then—

A glowing blue plasma grenade descended from the sky, landing directly at the mouth of the sewer.

Boom!

A blinding surge of electricity flashed through the damp sewers.

The electric currents surged through the wet bodies of the worms, instantly spreading in a delicate web of energy.

The entire entrance was enveloped.

"Zzzzzzzzz!!!"

A shrill, ear-piercing electric noise followed.

The worms caught in the electrical net were immediately fried into thousands of charred husks.

From atop a distant building—

A woman with fiery red hair leaned casually against the rooftop edge.

Natasha Romanoff.

Seeing the plasma grenade's successful impact, she let out a small sigh of relief.

Tapping her earpiece, she reported to Nick Fury.

"Director, I've got good news: the plasma grenades work well. Their effect on the worms is stronger than expected."

"The bad news? I only have two left."

"If reinforcements don't get here soon, Harlem's body count tonight is going to skyrocket beyond what you can handle."

There was no doubt.

The terrifying worm tide swarming Harlem was no longer just a simple battlefield threat—

It had become a full-blown supernatural disaster.

And dealing with supernatural events?

That was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s responsibility.

If they didn't resolve the crisis soon—

Nick Fury would soon find himself answering to the World Security Council.

A scenario he definitely wanted to avoid.

"…Fuck."

On the other end of the line, Fury—who was watching the live battlefield footage—grimaced.

"Two of our special forces units are en route. They'll reach the battlefield soon."

"Until then, Agent Romanoff—I don't care what you have to do. Buy time. Stop those worms from spreading further. Minimize civilian casualties."

Natasha: "…"

Like stopping this was even possible?

But rank had its privileges.

Faced with Fury's orders, she had no room for argument.

...

"Jarvis, that person... am I seeing things?"

Natasha's swift and precise attack to save the civilians had momentarily exposed her figure to Stark's view.

That strikingly familiar silhouette—Tony couldn't believe his own eyes.

"You are not mistaken, sir," Jarvis responded. "The woman who just used that special plasma grenade to kill tens of thousands of worms is none other than Ms. Pepper's newly hired assistant—the same assistant you were planning to poach from her to be your next personal assistant."

Before Jarvis could finish, Tony cursed.

"Damn it! That's not an assistant—she's a spy! There's no way I'm letting a spy become my personal assistant!"

With his intelligence, Tony instantly realized why Natasha had infiltrated Stark Industries.

It was obvious.

That old bastard had set his sights on the Mark armor and the Arc Reactor—his technology.

And now, S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent someone like Natasha to get close to him, using a honey trap to steal his secrets.

The moment Tony grasped this, his face darkened.

"Jarvis! Find out exactly which organization this spy belongs to! I'm suing them for attempting to steal Stark Industries' trade secrets!"

"Understood, sir. Initializing investigation."

...

Meanwhile.

The newly developed plasma grenades from S.H.I.E.L.D. were in limited supply—only elite agents like Natasha could acquire them.

And there was only one Black Widow in the world.

While Natasha's grenade had momentarily sealed off one of the sewer exits—

At the two other sewer openings amidst the fleeing civilians—

The worms surged forth at an unimaginable speed.

Creeping up pant legs—

Drowning victims in an unstoppable tide—

Within seconds—

Dozens, then hundreds of people were devoured.

Flesh stripped from their bones.

Their remains left behind as bleached skeletons, lying eerily in the streets.

Yet, the more the worms consumed—

The faster their numbers multiplied.

...

Beneath Harlem.

At the intersection of the underground sewers—

At some unknown time, someone had used fresh blood to carve an inverted ritual sigil onto the ceiling.

A twisted figure, wrapped in black mist, stood upside down at the very center of this chaotic, childlike scrawl.

Arms crossed over their chest, they whispered.

They prayed.

"Wanderer of the Stars—

Devourer of the Endless and the Finality…

Supreme Mother of Proliferation—

The Sovereign of the Worms…"

"Great Mother of the Worms…"

"Your humble servant offers the blood of despair and the souls of malice as tribute…

Grant me your power… the greatest power…"

Like the most devoted of believers—

The shadowed figure chanted, over and over again, in this bizarre hanging ritual.

And as their whispers resonated through the darkness—

A formless power seemed to pierce through the void—

Carrying the prayer to a distant, unknowable place.

To an entity beyond comprehension.

For a moment—

That being heard the whisper.

Then, just like countless other prayers before it—

The voice was ignored.

Bounced back by the very presence of the unfathomable.

Yet—

Something was different.

When the prayer was rejected, it was not simply dismissed.

Tainted by an indescribable presence, the prayer twisted.

It became an unnatural, distorted murmur.

Then, in the very next moment—

That murmur raced through layers of space—

Plunging back into the ritual.

It entered the ears of the shadowed figure hanging in the sewers.

And in that instant—

A monstrous whisper—an eerie, incomprehensible chant—echoed through their mind and soul.

In the depths of their consciousness—

They saw something.

A shadow.

A form that no words could describe.

An entity beyond meaning.

And as they gazed upon it—

A flood of information, beyond human comprehension, beyond sanity, beyond the mind's capacity, poured into their brain.

In that moment—

Every cell in their body convulsed.

Their thoughts became mangled.

Their sanity twisted.

In the depths of their soul—

A massive worm-like form began to take shape.

Was that… the Mother of Worms?

For a fleeting second—

The inverted figure understood.

And at the same time—

The whispers became clearer.

The sound alone awakened the primal, unending fear buried in the core of their existence.

Faced with their deepest terror—

For an instant, their eyes pierced through the illusions of reality.

Through the ever-shifting laws of the universe.

They witnessed the despair woven into the very fabric of existence.

And—

Their fragile brain and soul could take no more.

In a final act of self-preservation—

Their mind shut down.

Just as their unconscious body began to plummet from the sewer ceiling—

The ritual sigil reacted.

Threads—thin as silk, but sharp as blades—shot forth.

The nearly invisible strands impaled the falling figure—

Suspending them once more.

Fixing them in place.

And then—

The ritual glowed.

A crimson light pulsed from the sigil—

Rapidly draining the fear and despair radiating from every dying soul within a ten-thousand-meter radius.

Dark wisps of energy surged along the silk-like threads.

Then—

They poured into the figure's body.

Darkness.

Thick, heavy, endless darkness.

A black cocoon formed around them.

And soon—

Ba-dum.

A heartbeat.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Like the steady beat of a war drum—

Something new was growing inside.

Something terrible.

At that moment—

As the tainted, worm-ridden essence seeped into the sewers—

Something stirred within Eren's Fate Balance.

The ethereal scale within his mind—

Trembled.

A single ripple spread across the River of Fate.

For an instant—

Fate itself seemed to hesitate.

Then, as if recognizing something, the balance quieted once more.

Yet—

Though the Fate Balance had fallen silent—

The River of Fate continued to ripple.

As if—

Somewhere, something had taken notice.

Something ancient.

Something inevitable.

And the Fate Balance—

In response to the disturbance in the River—

Sent a single message to Eren's mind.

[Ding!]

(End of Chapter)

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