webnovel

ASGARD PALADIN

--- Carrying the Book of Warcraft Paladins, Forseti Garrison finds himself transported across dimensions into the Marvel Universe, where he becomes an apprentice herbalist in Asgard. Armed with spells like Divine Shield, Wrath of Vengeance, Sulfuron Hammer, and artifacts such as the Ashbringer from World of Warcraft, and Forseti's knowledge and skills from his gaming world come alive in Marvel's reality. "For the Alliance, no... for Asgard!" Forseti declares, wielding his warhammer and invoking the Holy Light. "Frost Giants, Kree, Thanos... Prepare to face the righteous fury of justice!" ---

Webnovel_Addicted · Tranh châm biếm
Không đủ số lượng người đọc
615 Chs

625

[Elevator Battle]

The masked man fled into the distance, his figure rapidly disappearing over the rooftop.

Steve summoned his Holy Light Warhorse in an instant—a burst of dazzling light—and mounted the golden steed, leaving a radiant trail across the night sky.

With the speed of the Holy Spirit horse, Steve effortlessly closed the gap with the masked man.

Holy Fist!

For most paladins, their spells' impact varied significantly whether they wielded weapons or not.

But Steve was different. His flawless heroic nature granted him extraordinary control and affinity with the Light, making his unarmed strikes equally potent.

His fist, infused with holy light, struck the masked man squarely in the back!

Empowered by the Holy Spirit's speed, the blow knocked the masked man unconscious, blood trickling from beneath his mask.

Steve approached cautiously, removing the mask, only to freeze in disbelief.

"Bucky!"

Under the mask lay a face all too familiar—Bucky Barnes, his close comrade-in-arms from World War II.

Seventy years ago, they fought side by side against Nazi Germany across the European theater.

When Bucky fell from that train on the snowy mountainside, Steve had mourned him as lost forever. Yet here they were, reunited in the most unexpected of circumstances.

Steve couldn't believe his eyes.

Though this masked man bore a striking resemblance to Bucky, he seemed unaware of Steve's presence, unchanged in appearance since their wartime days. Could it be he, too, had been frozen for decades?

Or was this merely a doppelgänger?

Steve scrutinized a scar behind the man's ear, one he had seen with his own eyes.

Frowning, Steve made a swift decision.

This masked man was likely Bucky, albeit under some form of control. Securing him in a safe place became his immediate priority.

According to Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D. had fallen.

Outside of S.H.I.E.L.D., Steve had learned of a sanctuary just months ago, post-becoming a Paladin.

Returning to the room with Bucky unconscious, Steve said, "Fury, come with me. I'll take him somewhere safe."

"Where?" Fury asked. "Nowhere's safe. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s been compromised."

Without further ado, Steve led Fury away. Before long, they arrived at a hidden corner in New York—a quiet bookstore still open late, though without customers.

"Welcome, Knight. Are these your companions?" greeted the store's manager, an unassuming white-haired man—secretly an elder Paladin—alongside being the store's owner: a secular stronghold for the Knight's Holy Light, their covert identity.

"Yeah, we need help," Steve said. "Anyone skilled in Confession?"

"Confession?" The elder Paladin hesitated, then grasped the situation, glancing at Bucky, unconscious. "His mind's been hijacked?"

Steve nodded.

The elder Paladin replied, "Confession is rare, its depth profound. Yet, in New York, there's one Knight who wields it well."

"Dufran?" Steve asked.

The elder Paladin smiled. "Precisely."

Dufran, most virtuous and esteemed of human Paladins: Golden Hand's founder, managing their secular undertakings while powerful—cherished within the Knights.

"Dufran? Golden Hand?" Fury queried.

"You know the Golden Hand?"

Fury smirked, "I'm S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Director. The Golden Hand once gifted me a car."

The elder Paladin said, "It's late. If you're not rushed, we'll visit Dufran tomorrow. Rest here for tonight."

"Agreed." Steve nodded after a moment's thought.

Next morning, en route to Dufran with Bucky, Steve's phone rang abruptly.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.," Steve noted.

Answering, Alexander Pierce's voice: "Captain, word has it you've returned."

"Yes, Mr. Pierce."

"Good. I helm S.H.I.E.L.D. Now that you're back, report here at once." Fury, overhearing Pierce, tensed.

Steve hesitated, then agreed, "Understood."

Ending the call, Fury questioned, "Why oblige him? S.H.I.E.L.D. is perilous now."

"Perhaps," Steve murmured. "But investigate, I must."

"Take Bucky to the Duflan Knight. I'll manage S.H.I.E.L.D."

Steve, shield upon his back, advanced towards S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headquarters.

Meanwhile, within S.H.I.E.L.D.

"The Winter Soldier's gone dark. Steve's meddling, no doubt. He's en route; how should we proceed?" Crossbones, Brock Rumlow reported.

"Persuade Rogers?" Pierce considered.

"Convince Captain America?" Crossbones chuckled. "Remember who the Winter Soldier was. Steve's seen what he can do."

"What's our course?" Pierce queried.

"Apprehend or terminate!" Crossbones clenched his fist. An agent, formidable, he preferred issues solved hands-on.

"Steve Rogers arrives!"

"So swift—did he fly?" Pierce pondered.

"Rumlow, intercept Steve Rogers. Capture him; if impossible, terminate on sight."

"Consider it done!" Crossbones, confidence evident, departed.

Minutes later.

Steve, shielded, entered an elevator. Selecting a floor, he waited.

The Dragon's Shield, while updated, retained its pattern—red, blue, a central, five-pointed star—from its Stars and Stripes precursor. The image, his unchanged.

Doors slid open partway. Crossbones, agents in tow, greeted casually, "Long time, Captain."

"Indeed, Rumlow." Steve replied, yet sensed something amiss.

Agents surged, signaling inevitable conflict...

During the ascent, the elevator stopped several times, and more agents entered from outside, filling it completely without anyone exiting.

Some agents showed signs of nervousness, with cold sweat dripping from their foreheads. Despite their numbers, facing Captain America Steve Rogers, a super soldier awakened from World War II, made them uneasy.

Steve noticed the nervous tension among the agents, strengthening his suspicion.

When the elevator reached its limit, he spoke abruptly, "Before we proceed, does anyone want to step out?"

The elevator fell silent, and even the hushed whispers ceased abruptly, the air thick with tension.

After a brief pause,

A black-clad agent was the first to break the silence, angrily thrusting an electric baton towards Steve's chest.

Steve swiftly evaded the attack. Simultaneously, other agents in the elevator joined in, wielding electric batons and magnetic handcuffs aimed at Steve.

Against the old Steve, this would have been a formidable fight.

But today's Steve was no longer the young soldier of 55!

With both hands held aloft, a dazzling holy light burst forth, engulfing the entire elevator in blinding brilliance.

Flashbang!

Blinded by the intense light, the agents floundered, their attacks failing as they collided like headless flies.

In moments, Steve swiftly incapacitated over a dozen agents within the cramped confines of the elevator.

Child's play.

Steve then pried open the elevator doors, revealing a contingent of heavily armed agents, their guns trained on him.

"Lower your shield and freeze!" commanded the agents.

Steve wasted no time, summoning holy light into his palms, conjuring a shield the size of the elevator door.

With shield in hand, he surged forward towards the agents.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The agents opened fire in a frantic volley, bullets raining down upon him.

But their bullets were futile against the radiant shield.

This imposing shield surrounded Steve like a protective cocoon, impervious even to bazooka rounds.

Undeterred by the hail of bullets, Steve advanced, knocking down dozens of agents in his path.

In a single blow, he incapacitated all who remained conscious.

"How is this possible!"

Alexander Pierce and bald-headed Sitwell watched in shock via surveillance footage.

They hadn't anticipated Crossbones' failure to stop Steve, let alone this outcome.

Dozens of elite agents armed to the teeth failed to stall Steve Rogers even for a minute, easily subdued by his newfound powers.

"I heard he spent months in Asgard, trained by the Sun God... Is that true?" Sitwell murmured incredulously.

"Stop him! Stop him at all costs!" Pierce barked furiously, watching Steve rampage through S.H.I.E.L.D. as he approached their location.

More agents were dispatched to intercept Steve.

But it was futile.

Had they fully understood Steve's current capabilities and prepared adequately, perhaps S.H.I.E.L.D.'s vast resources could have matched him.

But their preparations were rushed, insufficient to confront Captain America turned Paladin.

A few minutes later,

The sound of a breaking door lock echoed loudly. Steve, shield in hand, burst through the doorway, his gaze fixed coldly on Pierce and his cohorts.

Pierce's face drained of color. "I believe... there's been a misunderstanding."

Steve remained silent, activating the Eye of Reckoning. Flaming holy light flared from his eyes.

Under the glare of the Eye of Reckoning, the true nature of men was laid bare. Though it couldn't identify Hydra directly, it was enough.

Pierce and his comrades turned red-faced, their guilt palpable even if they weren't Hydra agents.

"At a glance, I can tell you're not good men!" Steve declared, moving swiftly into action.

Within moments, over a hundred agents fell into Steve's grasp, the few civilian personnel in the room no match for him.

Shortly after subduing Pierce, Tony Stark arrived in casual attire.

"Sorry I'm late," Tony shrugged, eyeing Captain America who was interrogating Pierce.

Steve glanced at him. "Where have you been, Tony? Fury was nearly killed."

"Just got wind of it," Tony replied. "Actually, I'm investigating another matter. Good thing you're here; seems there's no major catastrophe so far."

"What are you investigating?"

Tony hesitated briefly. "The Mind Scepter."

He continued, "During the Battle of New York, General Deathblade brought the Mind Scepter to Earth, but didn't retrieve it. It fell into the hands of a mutant, whose current whereabouts are unknown."

"But now we have some leads. If they're accurate, the Mind Scepter is in Hydra's possession."

"In Hydra's hands..." Steve frowned, his gaze returning to Pierce. "Is this true?"

Pierce remained silent.

"Is he Hydra?" Tony asked incredulously.

Steve replied, "Not yet confirmed."

"I've had my doubts about him for a while — a genius's intuition was spot-on." Tony said dismissively, then grinned suddenly. "In that case, why not test my latest invention?"

Approaching Pierce, Tony called out, "Jarvis."

"Understood, Mr. Stark," Jarvis intoned mechanically. The arm of Tony's suit opened, tiny electrodes extending like tentacles.

"What... what is this?" Pierce paled.

Tony explained solemnly, "These electrodes emit a minuscule current. They won't cause physical harm, but they can simulate neural impulses quite marvelously. Care to give it a try?"

"Or perhaps you'd prefer to divulge what you know, like the exact location of the Mind Scepter."