Thick green mist swirled through a hidden underground hall. When it finally dissipated, the wounded forms of Amora and the Executioner emerg
Thick green mist swirled through a hidden underground hall. When it finally dissipated, the wounded forms of Amora and the Executioner emerg
Thick green mist swirled through a hidden underground hall. When it finally dissipated, the wounded forms of Amora and the Executioner emerged into view.
The entire chamber was cloaked in darkness. Only a single faint white spotlight illuminated the room’s center, casting long shadows across the black marble floor.
The healing mist from Amora’s magic surrounded her wounded back. Though her skin knitted back together quickly, the real trouble lay deeper within—the remnants of Gene’s magic still lingered in her body, scorching her nerves and causing bursts of pain that made her bare her teeth involuntarily.
"You really are useless," Amora snapped, her delicate finger rapping hard on the Executioner’s thick skull.
The Executioner looked like a schoolboy who had just failed his final exams—eyes down, face aggrieved, too ashamed to speak.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t strong. It was that Gene was too strong.
If someone were holding a "Blame Distribution Meeting" right now, Amora would absolutely be the main target. If she hadn’t approached Gene so arrogantly, maybe—just maybe—they wouldn’t have suffered such a humiliating defeat. (Although, let’s be honest—they still would’ve lost.)
Of course, the Executioner would rather die than say that out loud.
That’s just the fate of a simp.
"Quite the sorry state you’re in, Amora,"
a cold voice rang out from the darkness.
A man stepped into the spotlight—face grim, aura frosty.
"Oh, spare me, Zemo the Second. Your father was killed by that ’Black Devil,’ and I didn’t see you rushing to do anything about it." NovelHub
The man standing before her wasn’t the Zemo that Gene had effortlessly crushed before—it was his son.
Hence the nickname: Zemo Jr.
"I didn’t join your team to take orders from you," Amora said icily, her arms crossed.
"I’m a sorceress of Asgard. My powers are beyond the imagination of you Midgardians."
"And yet," Zemo Jr. narrowed his eyes,
"your reckless behavior nearly derailed my plans. I’ve spent a long time preparing for the Black Devil, and I won’t allow anyone—not even a sorceress from Asgard—to jeopardize what I’ve built."
"Judging from the beating you just took,"
he added with a smirk,
"I assume you’ve met him in combat?" Correct content is on NovelHub.
"Still think my preparations were pointless?"
Amora’s expression darkened, but she didn’t respond.
Back when she first joined Zemo’s little alliance, she had scoffed at his so-called strategies. In her mind, this "Black Devil" was just another overpowered Midgardian. Mortal, limited, and ultimately breakable. She had viewed Zemo’s precautions as cowardly nonsense.
But after today’s fight?
Her arrogance had been shattered.
She had nearly been killed—by the very mortal she once looked down on.
Now, for the first time, she realized: she and the Executioner could not defeat him. In fact, it was a miracle they’d even escaped.
"That’s why I told you not to act alone," Zemo said flatly.
"I won’t let any part of my plan unravel—not when I’m this close. I will take back everything that was stolen from me."
Helmut Zemo—son of Heinrich Zemo, who once bore the title of Baron—had inherited his father’s legacy. After Gene eliminated the original Zemo and absorbed HYDRA into S.W.O.R.D., Helmut had gone underground.
Since then, he’d been working tirelessly to rebuild—assembling a new team of villains. Not just to kill the Black Devil... but to reclaim HYDRA’s throne.
And in this secret hall, the members of his handpicked squad stood as testament to his planning.
Dr. Curt Connors – The Lizard.
A once-renowned doctor who experimented with reptilian DNA to regenerate human limbs. The serum’s side effects turned him into a monstrous lizard hybrid with immense strength, near-invulnerability, and rapid healing. When enraged, he lost all rationality, becoming a rampaging beast.
Arthur Parks – Living Laser.
A laser technology expert who created micro-laser diodes. After being rejected by Mason Industries for investment, he implanted them into his body. Now, his entire form could phase between solid matter and light particles. Deadly laser beams were his primary weapon.
Anthony "Tony" Masters – Taskmaster.
A mercenary injected with a special serum that gave him photographic reflexes. He could mimic any combat move he saw. Karate, Krav Maga, fencing, traditional martial arts—you name it, he could copy it. Even powers reliant on physical skill could be reproduced with frightening precision.
And finally, there were Amora and her loyal Executioner—completing Baron Zemo’s new villainous squad.
"So?" Amora placed her hands on her hips.
"Can we go find that Black Devil now and tear him apart?"
"We’re not ready—not yet. We’re still waiting for one final member to arrive."
He paused, the dim light reflecting off his narrowed eyes.
"He’s the strongest of us all."
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