Check out my patreon to read 55+ advance chapters.
Patreon: patreon.com/HAREMLOVER
__________
"Well, I guess so!"
Michael responded, watching as the car slowly drove into the parking lot of a small hotel, eventually disappearing inside.
The two of them landed softly on the ground as Michael released his energy, then glanced at the modest building, "So, what's your plan? Go in directly or wait for a better opportunity?"
"Let's just go in." Natasha said confidently. Originally, she had intended to take action immediately, and now, with Michael by her side, her confidence only grew.
They walked into the small hotel arm in arm and quickly located the room where the two men and one woman were staying.
Standing outside the door, Michael couldn't help but mutter, "Three people sharing a room? Quite the arrangement."
Natasha rolled her eyes at him, whispering, "I find that you're a bit vulgar."
"It's normal for men. Being too serious would just be hypocritical, wouldn't it?" Michael replied, unfazed.
Natasha scoffed, then raised her hand and knocked on the door.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
An impatient voice sounded from inside, "Who is it?"
Natasha stayed silent, knocking again.
Footsteps approached, and a man opened the door, looking at Michael and Natasha suspiciously, "Who are you?"
Natasha flashed a bright smile before suddenly grabbing the man's wrist and kneeing him. The man crumpled to the ground, a look of agony on his face. Michael couldn't help but wince at the sight"Ouch. Poor guy, that's got to hurt."
Michael and Natasha entered the room. The other two people inside quickly realized something was wrong. One of the men grabbed a staff from his bag. The moment he held it, his demeanor changed, growing ferocious and intense.
With a furious roar, he charged at Natasha, swinging the staff. Natasha dodged, supporting herself on the ground with one hand as she lifted her leg, kicking him square in the wrist. He let out a pained grunt as the staff slipped from his grip, and Natasha snatched it up with ease.
"Damn!" Michael muttered, surprised at Natasha's speed and the man's weakness. He was armed but lost the weapon in one move!
With the staff in her hand, Natasha let out a primal scream, her eyes flashing with violent intensity. She swung the staff, hitting the man's shoulder, then pivoted, kicking him square under the chin, sending him airborne. She finished with a swift kick to his stomach.
The man crashed into the wall, making it shake, and then slumped to the floor, motionless. Natasha then turned her gaze to the woman in the room.
Panicked, the woman tried to flee, but Natasha prepared to chase her, only to stop in her tracks abruptly.
"Take him and go!" Michael shouted.
The woman hesitated, but finally grabbed the dazed man and hurried out, leaving behind the first man, who was too injured to move.
With a flick of his hand, Michael used his telekinesis to throw the remaining man out the door, which then closed with a bang.
He looked back at Natasha, who was struggling against some unseen force. Her face was contorted with tension.
"Let... me... go..." Natasha gritted out.
"You're being controlled by anger. Let it go!" Michael urged gently.
"Let... me... go!" Natasha screamed, unable to hear him as she fought against the effects of the staff's magic. She managed to break free from his telekinetic hold and swung the staff at Michael.
Michael didn't flinch. A shield of energy appeared in front of him, blocking the staff. The shield then morphed into a hand, gripping Natasha's wrist firmly. She groaned, finally dropping the staff, which clattered to the floor and rolled aside. Natasha collapsed, exhausted.
Michael eyed the staff warily. It was clear that it wasn't a single piece but a part of a larger weapon. Intricate symbols marked its surface, giving it an ancient, powerful aura.
He knew exactly what it was: the staff of the Asgardian Berserker. The weapon bestowed immense strength but also unleashed a violent, uncontrollable rage in its wielder. A single Berserker wielding it had the strength of ten ordinary warriors—though, of course, those warriors were Asgardians.
While not as mighty as Thor's hammer, the Berserker Staff still far exceeded earthly weapons in power. Infused with dark magic, it not only drove people into violent fits of rage but could also amplify their innermost fears. Even Asgardians struggled to control its effects, which was why the staff had been broken and hidden away.
Watching Natasha, who had been consumed by its influence, Michael felt a strange urge. Curiosity got the better of him as he reached down and slowly extended his hand, finally gripping the staff.
The moment he touched it, he felt a powerful force surge through his body. Rage filled his mind, as if he wanted to destroy everything in sight. But he was aware of the magic's effects and managed to rein in his anger, gradually calming himself.
Strength. Pure strength.
He could feel it flowing through his body, doubling—no, tripling—his previous power. Surprisingly, there was no fear or other strange effects beyond the anger.
"Is it because my body can resist the magic? Or could the mental barrier from the lantern ring have shielded me from the staff's influence?" He wondered, pleasantly surprised. Whatever the reason, it was a fortunate outcome—an incredible power boost without the risk of lasting side effects.
This was good stuff.
Michael stored the staff in his system space and turned his attention back to Natasha. She was lying on the floor, unconscious, her face twisted in fear and distress. Whatever visions she'd seen under the staff's influence must have been terrifying.
Gently, Michael picked her up and laid her on the bed. Even in her sleep, she looked haunted, likely reliving dark memories from her past.