Chapter 19

As the cathedral roof partially collapsed beside her, Lara barely had time to curse Jacob for his unfinished last words. "What did he mean? Elves? Eternals? Externals?" she muttered as the entire ancient city of Kitezh began to crumble, glaciers cracking and structures collapsing in a deafening roar.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Lara sprinted toward the exit. She spotted Konstantin's helicopter hovering precariously close to the cathedral. Timing her move, she leaped into the open side of the chopper just as it banked slightly, grabbing onto the edge before pulling herself in.

Konstantin was in the pilot seat, focused on navigating through the chaos as massive blocks of ice and debris rained down around them.

"I'm a bit pleased you didn't leave," Lara said as the helicopter dodged falling ice.

"I didn't have much of a choice," Konstantin grunted. His hands gripped the controls tightly as he maneuvered through the chaos. "The Divine Source was the only thing Trinity had that could help Ana—or at least give me access to something that might. Now that's gone. Turns out, it just makes you an immortal husk. So, I've got no choice but to bet on you."

Lara smirked, leaning back against the wall of the chopper. "Smart bet. You're gonna hit the jackpot," she said, watching as the once-majestic city of Kitezh crumbled into oblivion below thinking. 'All the artifacts in Tomb Raider comes with way too many side effects. It's like a clearance sale for cursed goods.'

Her attention shifted to the man seated beside her—a Trinity grunt who was oddly quiet until he looked up at her, his expression suddenly exaggeratedly teary-eyed. "The boss said I'm worthless and not good enough!" he wailed dramatically, clutching Lara's leg and rubbing his face against it. "He doesn't love me!"

Lara froze, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. 'Is this guy straight out of an anime?' she thought, before delivering a swift kick to his face that sent him sprawling onto the floor of the helicopter.

Konstantin sighed heavily, shouting, "Stop being annoying, or I'll gouge your eyes out!" He added under his breath, "And I don't let you pilot because this situation requires extreme caution and attention—something you lack."

The man scrambled to his feet, saluting exaggeratedly. "Yes, sir!"

Lara raised an eyebrow, turning to Konstantin. "Who's this funny guy?"

Konstantin grimaced. "Wade Wilson. A weird guy, but he's extremely talented for this line of work."

Hearing that name, Lara froze, her face going pale as if she'd just been told that she has to return to school. Whispering urgently into Konstantin's ear, she said, "Fire this guy immediately. I'm serious. He's worth several generations of bad luck."

Konstantin glanced at her, confused. "What?"

"Just trust me," Lara muttered, stealing a wary glance at the future Deadpool, who was now humming an upbeat tune while adjusting the straps on his gear. 'Of all people to run into in this crazy world… why him?'

Weeks later, Lara stood outside Croft Manor, supervising the unloading of various artifacts and treasures by personnel hired by Croft Holdings. After leaving the ancient city, she'd stayed behind to collect as many artifacts as she could, combing through tombs and digging up relics buried in the earth. Now, the treasures were finally arriving at her estate.

Among the items were codices, weapons, and the Byzantine war galley she had somehow managed to have transported back. The workers moved carefully, their expressions ranging from awe to confusion as they handled the peculiar cargo.

Natasha, standing nearby and now officially in hiding after orchestrating her departure from the Soviet Union, watched the process with raised eyebrows. She turned to Lara, who was straddling the war galley's mast with a grin on her face, occasionally jumping down to pose with Lenin's statue, now brandishing a Byzantine sword in hand.

"What are you going to do with all this stuff?" Natasha asked, her tone half-curious, half-amused. "And why in the world would you need a Byzantine war galley?"

Lara, practically sparkling with delight, twirled the sword in her hand and replied, "Every gal needs a war galley."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "You're not going to donate any of this to a museum in England or the country of their origins?"

"Absolutely not," Lara declared, jumping off the galley with a flourish. "I'm not an archaeologist. At best, I'm a collector and tomb raider—or maybe an opportunist. If anything, I'll sell some of it for money when I'm in desperate need for them. Until then, most of this will sit below Croft Manor. These treasures are mine now. Finders keepers."

The look on Natasha face could only be described as an unspoken observation: The British genes are strong in this one.

At dinner, Lara and Natasha sat eating alongside Ana, while Winston busied himself preparing and serving the meal. He had insisted on cooking himself, finding it a welcome break from managing Croft Holdings. The warm glow of the dining room was at odds with the chilly tension that hung in the air.

Lara, leaning back in her chair, turned to Ana with a mischievous grin. "Ana, darling," she began, her tone sweet but clearly mischievous, "what do you think of Lord Thomas? I think you two would make a perfect couple. You really ought to settle down and have some children."

Ana's smile froze on her face, a thin mask that barely concealed her frustration and anger. Her eyes briefly flickered to the fork in her hand, as though debating if it might serve as an instrument of mercy to end her suffering. Since returning from Siberia, Konstantin had made it abundantly clear that she was to listen to Lara, and Lara had taken full advantage of that, tormenting her in subtle but relentless ways. The mention of Lord Thomas, a bankrupt, alcoholic noble outcast from noble society, was just the latest jab.

Lara all aware of Ana's turmoil, continued devouring the last of her meal. Ten plates of food, polished off with an ease that left Winston shaking his head. As she wiped her mouth and stood to leave, Lara tossed over her shoulder, "It's just a prank, man!" Her tone carried the energy of an extremely annoying prank YouTuber before she exited the room, leaving Ana stewing in her seat.

Natasha, who had been quietly observing the exchange, turned her gaze to Ana. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for her, watching as Ana stared down at her plate, her expression being one of resignation.

Lifting her glass of wine, Natasha said dryly, "You're holding up surprisingly well, all things considered."

Ana didn't reply, but the tightening grip on her fork spoke volumes.