Ernst remained entirely unaware of the dramatic emotional shifts and resolutions unfolding in Magneto's underground bunker, and he preferred it that way.
He had set the stage and provided the necessary tools; it was up to Erik to deliver the performance.
With Darwin safely dispatched back to the X-Men, Ernst had no immediate plans to return to Skull Island.
Instead, his focus shifted to another ongoing project: Arnold and Ghost.
Months ago, Ernst had assigned the entity known as Ghost to his capable subordinate, Arnold.
Arnold had been undertaking high-risk mercenary missions across the globe, facing death daily.
Thanks to the super-serum Ernst had provided, Arnold's strength and survivability had skyrocketed.
But Ernst had given him Ghost for a specific, symbiotic reason: Ghost needed to devour souls to augment its power and build an undead army, and a warzone was the perfect feeding ground.
In return, Ghost protected Arnold.
Foregoing Azazel's teleportation, Ernst utilized his own displacement phantom magic.
He contacted Arnold for his coordinates and crossed the globe in an instant.
He materialized in a secluded encampment.
"Master," Arnold and Ghost said, bowing simultaneously.
"Enough formality. Rise," Ernst commanded, focusing his gaze entirely on Ghost.
To the untrained eye, Ghost appeared as an ordinary, human man.
Only Ernst could discern the swirling, dark anomaly beneath the surface.
"Your strength has clearly surged, Ghost," Ernst noted.
"Give me the numbers. How many souls have you consumed, and how many have successfully transformed into super-spectral forms?"
Terrified but honest, Ghost replied, "Master, forgive me. I've devoured over ten thousand souls. However, those capable of transforming into high-tier spectral forms number fewer than thirty. I have learned that to achieve this form, the soul must belong to an individual with immense willpower and unshakeable belief. Unfortunately, those traits are scarce on the battlefield."
Ernst nodded, understanding the limitation.
"Belief and a strong will? Yes, such individuals are rare indeed. Thirty isn't a bad yield. It's likely that sticking with Arnold through constant, high-stakes danger has exposed you to better candidates. Regardless, ten thousand ordinary souls are more than sufficient to serve as cannon fodder. You will return with me."
"Yes, Master."
Ghost immediately shifted. His human disguise dissolved into a cloud of dense black mist, which smoothly slithered into the folds of Ernst's enchanted sleeve.
Ernst turned to Arnold, briefly inquiring about his recent operations.
After confirming that the mercenary network was functioning as intended, Ernst prepared to warp back to Skull Island.
Before Ernst could cast his spell, his neural link chimed.
"Dr. Ernst, I suggest you wait," the Red Queen's voice echoed in his mind, carrying a hint of synthetic intrigue.
"I just captured an unusual event via satellite. I think you will want to see this."
Ernst paused, his curiosity piqued. If an advanced AI found something "special," it was rarely trivial.
"Send the visual."
Ernst raised his wrist, and his watch projected a crisp holographic video feed.
The image displayed a barren, windswept desert.
A man dressed in an ancient, flowing robe approached a massive rock formation half-buried in the sand.
He reached out, tracing a pattern on the stone.
Suddenly, the earth trembled. The rocks shifted and rose, revealing themselves to be the limbs and torso of a colossal stone giant.
The giant didn't stand up; instead, a seam down its chest cracked open, revealing a dark, cavernous tunnel inside.
The robed man walked calmly into the opening.
Once he was inside, the stone giant settled back into the sand, returning to its guise as a lifeless rock formation.
Ernst frowned, a deep sense of familiarity washing over him.
He scratched his chin, trying to place the imagery.
The Red Queen replayed the footage, enhancing and zooming in on the robed man's face.
Ernst immediately noticed the man's striking, unnatural appearance, pale, flawless skin, and distinct, non-human features framing his cheeks.
"Dr. Ernst, according to the mythological and occult databases we've compiled, this individual matches the description of Prince Nuada of the Dark World," the Red Queen reported.
"Historically, he has been fiercely hostile toward humanity. During the ancient wars between humans and the mythical races, Prince Nuada was infamous for his cruelty. He advocated for the total annihilation of the human race. To that end, the Dark World forged the Golden Army, an unstoppable mechanical legion. When a truce was called just as victory was in sight, Nuada, disgusted by his father's weakness, chose self-exile."
The pieces clicked together in Ernst's mind.
Hellboy II.
The stone giant in the desert was the gatekeeper to the resting place of the Golden Army.
The dark tunnel in its belly led to the pocket dimension where the invincible, clockwork legion had been stored for centuries.
"Red Queen, send me those coordinates immediately," Ernst ordered, a predatory smile forming.
The prospect of acquiring an indestructible, magical army was too good to pass up.
Receiving the exact telemetry, Ernst bid Arnold a brief farewell and warped across the world.
He materialized in the middle of a desolate, sun-baked desert, standing before the weathered stone pillars that secretly formed the body of the dormant giant.
Ernst walked up to the stone and attempted to trace the rock as Nuada had, but the giant remained motionless.
It was clear that a specific magical frequency or royal bloodline was required to actuate the mechanism.
Unbothered, Ernst found a shaded spot behind a nearby dune and sat down to wait. He was a patient man.
He planned to ambush Prince Nuada the moment he emerged, subdue him, and force him to act as a guide to the Golden Army.
If Nuada proved uncooperative, Ernst would simply extract the location of the magical crown required to control the legion.
To pass the time, Ernst extended his magical senses. He immediately detected a massive, complex illusion, a phantom halo draped over the entire region.
From the sky, this enchantment made the area look like nothing more than empty dunes.
Anyone walking through it would be subtly redirected, their minds tricked into wandering away from the stone giant.
Beneath the illusion, Ernst could feel a dense, sinister aura radiating from the earth.
It was the distinct, heavy energy of a weapon forged for mass slaughter.
He surmised that the malevolent presence of the Golden Army had slowly bled into the environment over the centuries, twisting what might have once been a lush landscape into this dead wasteland.
"Red Queen," Ernst asked, tapping his communicator.
"If this magical halo is active, how exactly did your satellite manage to see through the illusion and record Prince Nuada?"
"I must commend the wisdom of the ancients you had me archive," the Red Queen replied smoothly.
"By combining four specific, polarized lenses according to an old alchemical text, the visual distortion of the magical halo can be bypassed. I equipped one of our surveillance satellites with this lens array as an experiment. Spotting Prince Nuada was simply a matter of perfect timing and luck."
Ernst smirked, recalling the "Schufftein glasses" from the original lore, a simple optical trick used to see the hidden magical world.
About half an hour later, a low, grinding rumble shook the desert floor.
The stone pillars shifted and rose. The giant was awakening to let its guest out.
Ernst immediately concealed his presence and retreated to a safe vantage point.
The seam in the giant's abdomen split open, and Prince Nuada stepped back out into the blistering sunlight.
The prince looked elated. After centuries of exile, he had finally confirmed that the Golden Army was intact and ready for war.
Now, Nuada only needed to collect the three fragments of the magical crown that controlled them, one held by his father, one by his sister, and one hidden in the human world.
He was already visualizing his mechanical legion marching across the globe, wiping humanity from the face of the earth and reclaiming the world for the mythical races.
Lost in his triumphant, genocidal reverie, Nuada failed to notice the sudden shift in the air behind him.
He felt a light, casual tap on his shoulder.
"His Royal Highness, Prince Nuada, I presume?" a smooth, aristocratic voice said from directly behind him.
"You seem quite pleased with yourself. Find anything good in there you'd like to share?"
Nuada violently startled.
He leaped forward, spinning around in mid-air with centuries of trained combat reflexes, his hand instinctively dropping to the hilt of his blade.
He landed in a crouch, his golden eyes locking onto a tall, handsome human in a tailored suit.
The man was staring back at him with a sly, confident smile that was anything but friendly.
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