Chapter Twenty-Nine: Triumphant Return

The blue, blinding tide of energy swept across everything, erasing walls, floors, and steel doors alike with devastating ease, leaving nothing but oblivion in its wake.

A scream—raw and desperate—escaped the old doctor wearing glasses, yet his agony seemed insignificant amidst the chaos. His body gradually faded into nothingness, evaporating until not a trace remained.

The corridor's walls shattered, collapsing as dust surged outward in a shockwave, hurling Kyle violently through the air.

Only after a few seconds did the world begin to calm.

At the far end of the corridor, Red Skull tore the false mask from his face, revealing a grotesque, crimson skull beneath. He gazed coldly at the ruined passage before him, then flung a final, icy remark over his shoulder—“Until we meet again, Super Soldier”—and departed without a backward glance.

Some time later, from the heap of rubble in the corridor, a battered figure slowly rose. It was Kyle, who had narrowly escaped death.

Coughing, Kyle brushed the dust from his clothes and stared at the discarded human-skin mask on the floor at the corridor’s end. His tone was glacial. “Red Skull, next time—next time I run into you, I swear you’ll die a miserable death.”

This grudge would be carefully recorded in his mental ledger.

Fortunately, a human shield had absorbed most of the energy wave, and with the vibranium bracers blocking the rest, Kyle had escaped with only the sleeves of his shirt burnt away and a few other tears in his clothing.

“But I still lost the best opportunity to seize the Cosmic Cube,” Kyle thought with a sigh. He had underestimated Red Skull’s villainy and paid the price.

After all, as the founder of Hydra, Red Skull might not match Steve’s strength or his own, but his cunning was insidious and deadly.

Just then, an alarm blared from what remained of the control room at the nexus, snapping Kyle from his thoughts. He dashed inside, senses alert.

Smoke billowed from the control console, and red letters in German flashed across the main screen: “Factory Self-Destruct Countdown: 61 Seconds”—the numbers ticking relentlessly downward.

Directly opposite the screen, a young man lay unconscious, shirtless and bound to an operating table. On a nearby wall hung a large map, six flags scattered across its surface.

Kyle’s sharp gaze fixed on the map, and instantly, a card-drawing prompt echoed in his mind.

[German Factory Distribution Map]:
A map marking the locations of six German weapons factories and bases. White Item Card.
Draw?

“Another map—it’s unlocking the next level,” Kyle mused, a cold smile curling at his lips.

Red Skull, run as you like. I’ll wipe out your lairs, one by one.

Just as Kyle transformed the map into a card, a tall figure burst into the room. The two men locked eyes, both momentarily stunned.

“Kyle?”
“Steve?”

After a roundabout chase, Kyle and Steve had reunited in the factory’s control center.

“What happened here?” Steve asked, bewildered, surveying the wreckage.

“It’s simple—the commander of this factory panicked and threw an energy bomb at me,” Kyle shrugged, nodding toward the unconscious young man inside. “That’s the one you wanted to rescue, right?”

“That’s Bucky!” Steve exclaimed with relief, rushing forward to wake his friend.

“Just carry him out—this place is about to blow,” Kyle said, pointing at the main screen. Only thirty seconds remained on the countdown.

Steve nodded, hefting his unconscious comrade onto his shoulder. Kyle prepared to lead the escape, but his eyes caught something on the console.

[Car Key]:
The key to Red Skull’s personal vehicle—a four-wheel-drive masterpiece of German engineering with immense horsepower. White Item Card.

“Got it. Follow me!” Kyle snatched the car key and led Steve toward the factory garage.

As the countdown reached zero, explosions erupted throughout the facility, the chain reaction of the advanced energy materials lighting up the night-shrouded wasteland in blazing fire.

Outside the factory, liberated American POWs, having seized energy weapons and tanks, had already routed the German garrison. At the sight of the self-destructing factory, all the American soldiers sprinted for safety.

Just then, framed by the inferno, the roar of an engine cut through the night as a stylish, exquisite luxury automobile burst forth from the flames.

“Follow my lead—break out toward our base!” Kyle shouted from the driver’s seat, flooring the accelerator and smashing through the factory’s iron fence as if Red Skull’s prized car were a tank.

“Move! Everyone, move!” The American soldiers, recognizing Steve and the now-awake Bucky in the car, erupted in cheers and surged after them, flooding into the endless darkness of the wild.

Dawn broke.

As the sky turned pale, Carter could no longer contain her anxiety. She hurried to the communication center at the training base, desperate for news.

“Lieutenant Kyle and Steve Rogers disappeared last night in Sector Three after the battle,” reported Commander Bryant, who had received the telegram himself. “The factory there shows no signs of life. The search teams have returned. We are preparing to officially record them as killed in action.”

“Because of you, we’ve lost a fine officer, a propaganda leader, and over a hundred men,” Bryant added coldly.

“If that’s the outcome, I’ll take full responsibility,” Carter replied, calm and unshaken. She refused to believe those two men had perished so easily on the battlefield.

“Whatever you say—” Bryant began, but stopped abruptly, his gaze shifting over his shoulder.

The sound of an approaching car drifted in from the wilds beyond the base.

“Look! What’s that?”
“My God!”

Soldiers gathering for morning drills clustered at the back gate, quickly parting to clear the way.

A battered luxury car led the procession, Kyle at the wheel, guiding it slowly. Steve and the revived Bucky sat shoulder to shoulder in the back seat.

Behind the car marched over a hundred American soldiers, all armed with advanced energy weapons. Though their faces were etched with exhaustion from a night of battle, each step was resolute and unwavering.

They had returned.

“That kid—he actually—” Bryant was left speechless when he saw enemy tanks rolling in behind the ranks.

Had they looted the entire enemy factory?

“Give me a chance to prove my worth as a soldier!” The young man’s determined words still echoed in Bryant’s ears. Somehow, the raw recruit who had first arrived at the base had swiftly become a hero, creating miracles time and again.

“Truly remarkable,” Bryant finally finished, leading the applause as the soldiers of the training base joined in with thunderous acclaim.

The applause rang out over the base, echoing for a long, long time.