For Black Widow's request to have a Transformer, Fenric couldn't care less.
After all, the Fire Source could restore its energy every day, and its uses were virtually unlimited. Giving Natasha a Transformer barely cost him anything.
The most important detail, however, was this—
Any Transformer created by the Fire Source ultimately belonged to Fenric. He was their true master, holding final authority.
In other words, even if he gave one to Black Widow, he could reclaim it at any time.
—---
The following night, Fenric took Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver. Under Natasha's lead, the Phantom drove them north, toward a desolate little town.
The air was frigid. Snow still blanketed the ground, and the settlement itself looked lifeless, as though abandoned.
The sleek Rolls-Royce glided silently into the town. Under the pale moonlight, Fenric spotted several pointed wooden houses. Their gothic spires, paired with blackened beams, resembled old churches, hospitals, or schools from another era.
The atmosphere was bleak—too quiet.
Natasha suddenly braked the Phantom. She leapt out into the snow, her gaze fixed on something by the roadside.
"Natasha, what's wrong?" Fenric followed her out, narrowing his eyes. "A trap?"
"No," she replied grimly. "Something much crueler than that."
She crouched, brushed away the thick snow with her glove, and soon, what was hidden beneath revealed itself.
Corpses.
At least a dozen naked bodies lay tangled in a frozen heap. A mass grave.
They were all young women—most barely sixteen or seventeen. Even in death, their wide eyes were frozen in panic. Their bodies bore strange and brutal wounds.
Among them, Fenric noticed children—eleven or twelve at most.
"Ahh!"
Scarlet Witch let out a piercing scream. She buried herself against Fenric's chest, trembling, unwilling to look again.
Quicksilver fared little better. One glance was enough; he turned away sharply, fighting the urge to vomit.
Even Fenric remained silent. His expression hardened.
The air grew suffocatingly heavy.
"Keep moving," Natasha said suddenly. Her tone was calm, but Fenric could hear the steel beneath it. "There's an underground base ahead. Hidden. Very few know of it."
Fenric only gave a curt nod. No more words were needed.
They returned to the Phantom, and the car continued down the icy road.
Natasha said nothing on the way. Her face was expressionless, yet her eyes carried an unshakable storm of emotions. Rage. And fear.
After a long silence, she finally spoke.
"They made us kill each other."
Her voice was steady, but trembling at the edges.
"We grew up in this place… since before we could even remember. No parents. No family. Every day was training—fighting techniques, weapons, espionage.
"When we turned ten, they began rationing food. Too little to survive. The only way was to fight, to steal from the others. Compassion. Mercy. Selflessness… none of those things were allowed.
"Only the strong survived."
Her body trembled slightly. Old memories clawed their way back.
"In order to graduate, I killed hundreds, Fenric. Hundreds of girls just like me." Her voice cracked. "Tell me… am I a monster?"
Fenric sighed softly. He placed a hand on her shoulder but said nothing.
He knew what "graduation" meant in the Red Room.
Sterilization.
Every girl who survived was stripped of her ability to have children. The organization ensured they could never betray them with love, with family, with humanity. They were turned into machines.
The Phantom finally came to a halt before a dilapidated church.
"Here?" Fenric asked, frowning.
"Yes," Natasha confirmed.
"And if we attack? What if someone inside escapes?"
"There's only one entrance," she explained coldly. "And a hidden exit. I know where it is. I'll cover it. You handle the assault. Remember, Fenric—other than the girls, no one inside is innocent."
Her words left no doubt. She wanted him to burn this place to the ground.
Fenric gave a short nod. "Natasha, against the wicked, I will show no mercy. Wanda, you'll help Natasha."
"Understood, Ronan," Scarlet Witch replied obediently.
He had told Wanda and Pietro to call him "Ronan" in public, to avoid suspicion. "Master" was for private moments only.
Black Widow didn't object. She simply took Scarlet Witch with her and headed to cover the secret exit.
"Let's move," Fenric commanded. "Phantom, block the door."
At once, the Rolls-Royce transformed with a roar, rising into a towering robot. Its massive frame sealed off the church's main entrance.
Fenric and Quicksilver descended into the basement.
The iron door was thick, but Fenric drew the Empyrean Divine Sword. With a single swing, steel shattered like wood.
Boom!
The heavy slab crashed onto the floor.
"Quicksilver," Fenric said evenly. "Any underage girls—knock them out. Everyone else—kill them."
"Yes, Master!"
In a flash, Quicksilver vanished, leaving only a blur in his wake.
Fenric strode deeper inside, his thoughts sharpening.
Should he recruit Taskmaster as one of his subordinates?
The corpses outside told him everything—everyone tied to the Red Room was steeped in blood.
But bringing Taskmaster to his side risked alienating Natasha, perhaps even the entire Avengers.
Fenric wasn't worried about fighting them—his strength had already surpassed theirs.
Still, with stronger enemies looming, he needed Thor's cooperation. The wrong move could complicate things.
Besides, Fenric had no interest in subordinates without a bottom line, without lines they would never cross.
And the Red Room had no such lines.