Chapter 36: The Banquet

Doctor Doom led the group into Castle Doom, striding confidently ahead with an imposing presence. The interior of the castle was dimly lit, but the flickering candlelight provided just enough illumination to reveal their surroundings.

The walls, made of solid stone, bore the marks of time, with rough textures and visible grains that spoke of their ancient and sturdy nature. Under the flickering light, the patterns and veins in the stone became vivid, forming intricate designs that seemed to hold untold stories of the past.

The air inside the castle carried an ancient and mysterious aura. The walls were adorned with exquisite carvings and sculptures, showcasing remarkable craftsmanship and artistic brilliance.

Noah caught a fleeting glimpse of a green glimmer on the walls, momentarily reflecting off the elaborate frescoes and statues. He couldn't shake the feeling that the artistry served more than just decorative purposes.

"Hey, Victor, what's the deal with all this wandering around?" Ben finally grumbled, his patience worn thin. After battling zombies all afternoon and skipping meals on the helicarrier, his hunger had become unbearable.

Doom remained silent, guiding the group through the winding halls of the castle until they arrived at a spacious chamber. Unlike the dim corridors, this room exuded a sense of majesty and elegance.

A grand chandelier of shimmering glass hung from the ceiling, resembling a resplendent gem. The crystal-clear facets refracted the soft, warm light, casting intricate patterns across the room.

At the center of the chamber stood an enormous, elongated wooden dining table, its width almost claiming half the room. The table was draped in a luxurious cloth, adorned with golden patterns that glimmered in the chandelier's light. Candles rested on metallic holders, their soft glow accentuating the contours of the guests' faces.

"Sit."

With a dramatic sweep of his cloak, Doom seated himself at the head of the table. The room seemed to grow colder the moment he sat, his commanding presence amplifying the tension.

The group exchanged uneasy glances before taking their seats.

Doom rang a small bell, the faint chime reverberating through the room. This simple gesture was an unspoken declaration of his absolute authority.

Attentive servants, clad in immaculate black tailcoats, swiftly entered the room. They moved with graceful precision, silent as performers on a stage.

Dishes were presented to Doom first: golden-roasted suckling pig, creamy mushroom soup garnished with crisp breadcrumbs, tender steaks, succulent roast chicken, and delicate fillets of fish. Each plate was a masterpiece of culinary art.

Only after Doom had been served did the servants proceed to distribute food to the guests.

While the group began to eat, Pietro broke the silence, frowning at the decadent spread before him. "Doom, you're really eating at a time like this? Doesn't the apocalypse concern you at all?"

Doom placed his fork down, his expression as cold and imperious as ever. He raised his head slowly and replied, "Dining in peace is not merely about nourishment; it is a symbol of dignity. In moments like these, it is precisely my role as a ruler that must be emphasized."

Pietro furrowed his brow, visibly unsettled by Doom's indifference. "But we're facing an army of superpowered zombies! Shouldn't you be worried?"

Doom let out a low, disdainful chuckle, his gaze sweeping over the group. "You've come here for a reason. Are you seeking Doom's aid, or have you come to challenge him?"

Pietro hesitated, his thoughts racing. Meanwhile, the food remained untouched on his plate. Doom, however, showed no interest in the young man's indecision and resumed his meal with regal composure.

Noah wiped the corner of his mouth and leaned forward, addressing Doom with a calm demeanor. "Would you like to know how Reed met his end?"

Doom's eyes locked with Noah's, his gaze piercing and unreadable. Though he said nothing, the intensity of his stare conveyed his unspoken command: Speak.

Taking a deep breath, Noah began recounting the details of Reed's demise. Doom listened in stony silence, his expression gradually darkening as the tale unfolded. His hand trembled slightly as he set his fork aside.

When Noah finished, Doom's reaction was sudden and unrestrained. He threw his head back and laughed—a harsh, guttural sound, as though a beast from the depths of hell was roaring.

"Hah! To think Richards could be so pathetically foolish!"

After a moment, Doom's laughter subsided. His concealed grin gave way to an icy, contemptuous sneer. "How absurd that I wasted years battling such an imbecile."

For once, Doom refrained from referring to himself in the third person, speaking instead with a rare, straightforward tone.

Susan glared at him, her eyes burning with indignation, but she quickly averted her gaze. Deep down, she knew Doom wasn't entirely wrong; Reed had, after all, proven his intellect flawed at the ultimate cost.

"And you—what is your name? Richards may have been a fool, but Doom does not overlook those who kill his adversaries. Such deeds are not performed by nameless men in Latveria."

"Noah."

"Very well, Noah," Doom declared. "You've brought Doom an amusing tale. Consider yourself a guest of Latveria. Now, speak—what is it you wish to discuss?"

Noah glanced at Thor, who was happily devouring food with reckless abandon. A faint smile played on his lips as he replied, "Perhaps we could move to a quieter place to talk?"

Thor raised his goblet, his expression clouded with a mix of confusion and satisfaction. He lowered the cup and asked, somewhat incoherently, "Move? Where to? I'm not done drinking!"

Noah sighed, unsurprised by Thor's response. This version of the Asgardian prince was one who prioritized feasting over matters of importance.

"This room is too noisy for a proper conversation," Noah explained patiently.

Doom studied Noah for a moment before rising from his seat, his cloak swirling dramatically behind him as he exited the room.