Chapter 67 Osborn's Shadow
The Destroyer's energy beam tore across the desert at terrifying speed.
Orange-white light distorted the air itself.
The ground split apart beneath the beam's trajectory before impact even occurred.
Inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. command center—
Everyone watching the satellite feed reached the same conclusion instantly.
The doctor standing on the ridge would disappear completely.
Not even ashes would remain.
Then—
0.1 seconds before impact—
Something impossible happened.
Battlefield Domain activated passively.
Lynn's body moved automatically.
Not super-speed.
Not teleportation.
Instead—
An impossibly precise displacement.
Left foot—
Thirty centimeters sideways.
Upper body—
Tilted backward fifteen degrees.
That tiny adjustment allowed the annihilation beam to pass directly beside him.
The edge of the white coat burned slightly.
Behind him—
A ten-ton rock melted instantly into liquid magma.
The Destroyer paused briefly.
Then its faceplate opened and closed repeatedly.
Two more energy beams erupted simultaneously.
Cross-pattern suppression fire.
A kill zone with no ordinary escape route.
But within Battlefield Domain—
The "kill zone" simply did not exist.
Every trajectory.
Every timing interval.
Every sweep angle.
Already visible before execution.
Lynn walked forward casually.
Two relaxed steps.
Then a sidestep.
The first beam swept past his chest less than five centimeters away.
The second carved through the desert directly behind him.
Throughout the entire sequence—
Both hands remained inside the pockets of his white coat.
The scene transmitted live through satellite surveillance directly into Fury's command center.
Silence filled the room.
Every agent stared at the screen motionlessly.
The white-coated figure calmly walking through world-ending energy attacks resembled something unreal.
Nick Fury stood abruptly from his chair.
His heartbeat accelerated sharply for the first time in years.
He moved immediately toward the encrypted terminal and opened Lynn's classified file.
Then—
Inside the threat-level section—
He entered three words manually.
[Omega-Level Threat]
The highest classification within S.H.I.E.L.D.'s contingency hierarchy.
Reserved theoretically for individuals capable of causing or preventing civilization-scale destruction alone.
Until today—
Unused.
On the ridge—
Lynn even gave the Destroyer a small shrug afterward.
Polite.
Almost disappointed.
Then he turned around calmly and walked back toward the base.
No visible injury whatsoever.
He picked up the metallic briefcase containing the vibranium and alien materials.
At the same time—
Thor had already regained consciousness nearby.
His gaze remained fixed toward Mjolnir in the distance.
Lynn glanced toward him briefly.
"My work is complete."
"Final payment received."
"As for giant Asgardian robots destroying towns…"
A slight pause.
"That's your family issue."
Then he boarded the prepared Quinjet calmly.
Under the combined stares of Thor, the S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel, and the distant Destroyer—
The aircraft lifted into the night sky and departed.
Lynn already knew how events would proceed afterward.
Thor would reclaim Mjolnir.
The Destroyer would be destroyed.
Loki's first invasion attempt would fail.
And none of those outcomes required further participation from him.
He had already earned the valuable rewards.
That was sufficient.
…
Several days later.
Late night.
Miracle Clinic.
Three long knocks.
Two short knocks.
The rhythm sounded heavy and controlled.
Lynn had only recently returned from New Mexico.
The faint metallic smell of the Quinjet cockpit still lingered slightly on the coat.
He placed the coffee equipment aside calmly and walked toward the rear entrance.
Battlefield Domain expanded outward automatically.
Everything outside became instantly clear.
A black armored Rolls-Royce Phantom without visible plates.
Engine idling silently.
Six armed men positioned around the vehicle.
Diamond-shaped defensive formation.
Heartbeats steady.
Breathing controlled.
Professional bodyguards comparable to elite private military contractors like Blackwater.
And inside that formation—
One dying man.
Irregular heartbeat.
Rapid organ degradation.
Vital signs flickering weakly like a candle before extinction.
Lynn opened the door.
Standing outside—
A middle-aged man with hollow cheeks and deeply sunken eyes.
Expensive custom suit.
Perfect tailoring.
Yet even luxury fabric failed to conceal the heavy scent of decay surrounding him.
His eyes remained unnaturally bright.
Obsessive.
Almost mad.
Norman Osborn.
Chairman of Oscorp.
One of New York's true hidden kings.
"You're Doctor Lynn?"
Norman's voice sounded rough like sandpaper grinding together.
Without waiting for permission—
He walked directly into the clinic.
The six bodyguards entered immediately afterward.
Two closed the rear door heavily.
The clinic became isolated from the outside world instantly.
"Mr. Osborn."
Lynn's tone remained perfectly calm.
"The clinic is closed."
"If this is an emergency consultation, registration occurs through the front entrance."
Norman ignored the statement entirely.
He walked directly to the reception desk and threw a leather document case onto the counter.
"Read it."
Inside—
A prepared contract.
Exclusive lifetime medical-consultant agreement for Oscorp.
Norman's eyes locked onto Lynn intensely.
"Sign it."
"You receive two percent of Oscorp's shares."
"A private island under my personal ownership."
"And enough wealth to ignore money forever."
Then his tone changed.
Cold.
Threatening.
"Or refuse."
"And tomorrow night this clinic disappears beneath the Hudson River along with everyone inside it."
"No witnesses."
"No investigation."
"Understand?"
A completely direct threat.
Typical Norman Osborn methodology.
Money first.
Violence second.
Lynn didn't even glance at the contract.
Instead—
Universal Diagnosis activated fully.
His gaze behind the gold-rimmed glasses resembled a medical scanner examining Norman layer by layer.
[Automatic Diagnosis Initiated—]
[Patient: Norman Osborn]
[Condition Assessment:]
[1. Large-scale genetic collapse.]
[Cause: Incomplete injection of first-generation Goblin Serum.]
[Gene-sequence stability continuously deteriorating.]
[2. Severe neurological erosion.]
[Serum side effects causing irreversible limbic-system damage.]
[Secondary aggressive personality formed.]
[3. Multi-organ failure.]
[Muscle tissue currently undergoing progressive dissolution.]
[Overall Fatality Probability: 99.8%]
[Estimated Remaining Lifespan: 13 Days, 4 Hours]
Lynn looked at Norman quietly afterward.
So this was the current stage of the Green Goblin project.
Not fully stabilized yet.
Meaning—
Norman had not completely transformed into the classic Green Goblin from the comics.
But the collapse had already begun.
And once the second personality fully dominated—
The real catastrophe would start.
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