Chapter 124: Natasha’s Awakening

Natasha curled into a ball on the ground, shivering. As she weakly attempted to crawl away, another girl suddenly lunged forward, straddling her and clamping both hands tightly around her slender, fair neck beneath a cascade of vibrant red hair.

The girl’s face was pale and haggard, her eyes bloodshot, wild, and filled with madness. She let out a hoarse, low growl, "Die! Why won't you just die already?"

"Emily, let me go," Natasha gasped, gripping the other girl's wrists. Driven by a primal instinct for survival, she struggled in vain, her skin scraped raw by the frozen earth, turning a bruised, purplish-brown.

"Natasha, please, just stop breathing..."

"You—"

Hearing the plea from the girl atop her, Natasha shuddered.

Emily, her only friend and fellow trainee, now desperately wanted her dead—not just to claim the last scrap of food, but for a chance to continue crawling forward under the brutal rules of the Red Room.

This was the raw, cruel reality of human nature.

Emotions and mercy were burdens. Only by casting aside all feelings and becoming a killing machine could one survive until the end to become the most formidable agent of the current class: the "Black Widow."

Natasha turned her head. In her peripheral vision, across the desolate, barren wilderness, lay the frozen, unrotting corpses of other girls.

A single tear spilled from the corner of her left eye, instantly freezing into frost alongside a droplet of blood.

This was the last tear she would ever shed. From this moment on, the vulnerable girl within her was utterly extinguished.

"I'm sorry, but I have to survive too!" Natasha’s face hardened. With a sudden, flexible kick, she crossed her lower legs and locked them around Emily’s neck, pulling back with all her might.

An eye for an eye.

Emily, caught off guard by Natasha’s sudden retaliation, panicked and squeezed harder, desperate to choke the life out of her.

"Emily, you forgot something. I was the one who secretly tutored you in combat training. If one of us is destined to die, then let me carry your share and keep moving forward!"

As Natasha shouted these words in her heart, a cold, indifferent light flickered in her eyes. She summoned the very last ounce of her strength—

Coordinating the power of her wrists, waist, and legs, Natasha pried Emily’s hands away. With a sudden, explosive roll, she flipped her body, her legs still locked around Emily’s neck, spinning them one hundred and eighty degrees in the air.

A crisp "crack" echoed as Emily’s neck snapped. Her eyes dimmed, losing their luster as she slumped onto the frozen earth.

"I won." Natasha gasped for air, her limbs drained of all strength as she collapsed onto the wind-swept ground. Her stomach let out a sharp, painful growl of extreme hunger.

Digging her teeth into the frozen soil to pull herself forward, she soon stopped beside a small heap of black bread stained with blood and snow.

Without a second thought, Natasha opened her mouth and tore into the bread, swallowing it almost unchewed.

*Clap, clap, clap!*

A round of applause rang out unexpectedly. Natasha weakly lifted her gaze to see a middle-aged man in an officer’s uniform strolling toward her.

"Well done. You truly are my daughter. Now, you are the Black Widow in every sense of the word." The man smiled broadly, not bothering to stop his applause.

"Taras." Natasha gritted her teeth. Her red hair hung over her face, but the eyes peering through the strands burned with resentment and icy coldness.

Taras Romanov: her adoptive father, a high-ranking official in the Soviet Red Room, the man who had molded her into a cold-blooded spy.

"Such a fine look in your eyes. You will be the greatest agent our Soviet Red Room has ever seen," Taras praised, utterly indifferent to her hatred. It was meaningless to him, as it would be erased during the next phase of brainwashing.

Removing an agent’s emotions and memories—even stripping away their humanity—was standard procedure. They only needed to follow the protocols and complete the espionage and assassination missions assigned to them.

That was the Red Room: a powerful organization that left nothing to chance.

Taras was supremely confident in this. He stepped forward, intending to collect Natasha and return her to the Red Room.

"Natasha, you look absolutely pathetic right now."

Suddenly, a cold, calm voice echoed from behind. Hearing that familiar male tone, Natasha struggled to widen her eyes, a glimmer of hope returning to her hollow gaze.

Taras turned around in surprise. Emerging from the vast, frozen wilderness behind him was an odd trio: a girl, a young man, and a middle-aged man. The middle-aged man had a sharp, cool buzz cut, while the girl and the youth both wore hoods that obscured most of their faces.

"Local residents? Do you not know this is a restricted military zone?" Taras barked coldly, his left hand drawing a large-caliber pistol from his holster. Even though there were three of them, he possessed the peak physical conditioning of a super-agent himself.

The hooded youth in the lead didn't even glance at him. His eyes remained fixed on Natasha as he said slowly, "Don't lie there playing dead. You cost me over a dozen soldiers when you escaped from the battleship last time. I haven't settled that score with you yet."

"That was the work of other Red Room agents; it had nothing to do with me," Natasha explained weakly, still sprawled on the ground, yet she couldn't help but smile. She asked, "The offer you made last time—for me to defect to your side—does it still stand?"

"It does." The hooded youth nodded, his response cold and concise.

That single word was enough to change everything for Natasha. She took a deep breath and squinted. "Then take me away from here."

"Logan, go get her," the youth commanded. The man with the buzz cut ignored Taras entirely and strode toward Natasha.

"Do you all think I don't exist?!" Taras was shocked and furious. From the moment they appeared, these three had never once looked him in the eye! And now, they were making a verbal agreement with her and intending to kidnap the Red Room's prize agent right in front of him!

Taras glared at the approaching Logan and raised his pistol. "One more step and I'll fire!"

Logan didn't stop. Veins bulged on Taras’s forehead in fury as he squeezed the trigger.

But almost immediately, Taras realized something was wrong. No matter how hard he pulled, the trigger felt as if it were locked by an invisible force, refusing to budge.

"Boss didn't tell you to move yet."

Beside the hooded youth, the petite girl watched Taras coldly, her eyes glowing with a faint silver light.

Taras’s expression shifted. The pistol flew from his hand as if pulled by an invisible force, hovering in mid-air and turning its muzzle back toward its owner.

By then, Logan had reached Natasha, scooped her up with one hand, and slung her effortlessly over his shoulder.

Recovery successful: one Black Widow secured.