As dusk fell and night enveloped the palace, the dutiful soldiers continued to stand guard around its perimeter. The fiery scenes of the day had long since faded, and the unlit grand palace had succumbed to silence.

A young girl, breathless and panicked, ran through the corridors, glancing back in terror, her expression betraying her Black Widow training.

The brunette tried to steady her breathing, but her exhaustion made it impossible. Darting into a third-floor classroom, she quietly shut the door, her eyes fixed on the entrance. Collapsing against a desk, her tattered and blood-stained clothes, along with her dirty face and wide, frightened eyes, made for a pitiful sight.

A soft thud in the silent classroom sounded like thunder, causing the girl to whirl around and grab the sculpture head she had accidentally knocked over. She managed to catch it just before it hit the ground, shutting her eyes tight as if praying for her life.

Seconds later, she exhaled in relief, only to hear the door creak open.

"Oh, don't do this. I'll do whatever you want, just please don't," the girl begged, abandoning her efforts to hide. She tossed the sculpture aside and crawled backward, her shaking body betraying her fear as the dark figure entered, barely visible in the moonlight streaming through the windows.

Aiden clutched his bleeding shoulder, his face a mask of icy indifference, though those paying close attention could see he was far from alright. The makeshift bandage on his shoulder was soaked with blood, dripping steadily onto the floor.

With a twisted smile, Aiden staggered through the darkness, approaching his prey. "I don't scar easily, but you should feel honored. Even though the wound will heal, I think I'll always remember you."

"No, please, don't—I beg you," the girl sobbed, covering her face with her hands, trapped against the desk with nowhere to run and no intention of trying to escape.

Aiden, his arm nearly severed by Natasha, moved heavily, finally reaching the girl. He crouched down, whispering, "You almost fooled me earlier, but you weren't satisfied, were you?"

The girl's body tensed, her "fearful" eyes now fixed on Aiden, only inches away, her inner turmoil clear.

"You're close enough. What are you waiting for?" Aiden raised an eyebrow, his voice soft.

The girl lowered her head, resigned to her fate, muttering, "Please don't do this, let me go."

Aiden nodded, devoid of any pity for the girl in front of him, feeling only hatred and the desire to kill.

As Aiden nodded, the girl's fearful gaze turned icy cold, filled with venom and cruelty. Her arm, which had been resting by her thigh, moved slightly, the glint of a blade flashing as she lunged for Aiden's neck.

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Aiden's body twisted away, his right hand catching her slender wrist. He lunged forward, driving both the girl's wrist and the knife in her hand into her own body.

Aiden gasped for air, rolling off the warm corpse, clutching his shoulder in agony as he leaned against a desk leg. Every movement seemed to drain all his strength.

The girl's body had dealt him a significant blow. Despite her youth and innocence, her skills were shockingly refined.

At this point, the physical wounds Aiden suffered were not his greatest concern. The depletion of his mutant abilities posed the most immediate threat. To draw a parallel, his powers were like his muscles, growing stronger with exercise but prone to fatigue and pain after overuse. Aiden was clearly experiencing such fatigue.

In the continuous cycle of assassinations and counter-assassinations, Aiden's abilities had swiftly withered the blooming young women and left him vulnerable.

Though Aiden's situation was dire, it didn't mean he fell short of the Winter Soldier title. On the contrary, it underscored how fitting the Black Widow moniker was for the girls.

Aiden had been in the palace for 17 hours, from the mass casualties at dawn to the solitary deaths over several hours. The battlefield had clearly escalated.

Compared to open combat, the covert assassinations and lurking dangers were far more terrifying. Aiden should have been in his element in the shadows, but his adversaries were deadly spiders.

The injuries on Aiden's body did not signify his incompetence but rather highlighted his glorious achievements—assuming he could make it out alive.

After the last four-person assassination attempt in the dark, the palace fell silent again. Aiden savored the hard-earned respite. His lack of equipment had been a source of frustration, and the recent near-fatal assassination was due to this disadvantage. He had thought he was well-concealed, believing this to be his domain, but he was caught off guard and severely injured. Discovering one of the Black Widows with infrared thermal imaging equipment had ignited Aiden's fury. Escaping that meticulous ambush had been a stroke of luck.

What concerned Aiden more was the growing unity among the Black Widow team as their numbers dwindled. Their unmatched confidence had been shattered along with their ranks. No more foolish children sought to claim credit alone, complicating Aiden's maneuvers.

"I can't stay here too long." Aiden struggled to his feet and moved stealthily, his shoulder wound reopening and staining the bandages red. He spotted an unusual shadow by the door.

Holding his breath, Aiden retreated quietly. The person outside seemed to track his movements and no longer hid, entering the room without caution.

Boldness implied Aiden had exhausted his options. Indeed, those who had survived to this point were mostly out of ammunition. Close-quarters combat had become widespread, making the battles even more brutal and the wounds more horrific.

"Stop hiding. I want to end this long night," a young woman entered, gun in hand, aiming at a cluster of desks but not firing rashly.

Aiden swore that if he still had any strength, this woman would already be dead.

"You've earned my respect. Surrender within three seconds, and I'll leave you a whole corpse," the girl said, moving surely toward where Aiden hid.

As the footsteps drew closer, Aiden waited for three seconds before kicking a desk over and lunging out, Bang!

Predictably, she shot him in the leg; their marksmanship was beyond question.

"Farewell." The girl spoke elegantly in Russian, aiming the gun at Aiden.

With a roar, Aiden lunged, diverting the gun upward at the last moment. It was all he could manage; he could no longer stop her finger from pulling the trigger.

The next moment, Aiden threw a stool at her, knocking her down. Seizing the opportunity, he pinned her against the wall and pushed her out the window with his good arm.

Bullets pierced the girl's falling body and shattered the classroom window.

Those who left the palace's boundaries were to be killed without hesitation.

Aiden lay on the floor, listening to the intense gunshots, murmuring softly, "Well, farewell."