Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Super Agent

Three days later, the time for the Allied forces of the three nations to gather and land on hostile shores was fast approaching.

At dawn, when the horizon was just tinged with pale light, dozens of massive steel vessels were already anchored off the coast of Britain, prepared and waiting for the main forces from the American central base to board first.

In the near-shore waters, slightly ahead of the other ships, a colossal battleship loomed across the sea like a sovereign, its striped and star-spangled flag fluttering in the wind. The hull, shielded by layers of steel armor, was equipped with high-speed capabilities and formidable anti-aircraft artillery.

It stood like an impregnable fortress of steel upon the ocean!

At the prow of this giant battleship, Kyle stood alone within the railings. Aside from the black combat suit fashioned by the Venom symbiote, he wore a general's coat draped over his shoulders, lending him a stern and commanding presence.

Few would dare to treat a general's coat as mere decoration—only Kyle, perhaps. The sea wind blew against him, tossing his fine golden hair and the sleeves of his general's coat.

Footsteps hurried from behind Kyle. Lieutenant Fury steadied himself and saluted, reporting, "Sir! The ship's captain, navy personnel, accompanying medical staff, and ground combat soldiers have all boarded the battleship. Please issue the next orders, Major General Kyle."

Kyle nodded. "Good. Let them prepare for combat on board. We still have half a day before the scheduled departure for the assault."

"Yes, sir!" Fury accepted the orders with another salute and turned to leave, but then paused and returned, his expression bitter. "Kyle, are you the major general or am I? Back in the Howling Commandos, I let it slide, but now you're a general—there's no reason to push all the administrative work onto me."

"That's just how it is—the capable take on more." Kyle shrugged, smiling as he glanced at Fury. "You know I'm not suited to command. Even in the Commandos, I left the arrangement of soldiers to you. Now, with three thousand troops, that's even more so."

"And it's also to help toughen your resolve early on. The future S.H.I.E.L.D. will need you even more..."

The last words Kyle murmured quietly.

"What was that? The wind's strong—I couldn't hear," Fury asked, puzzled. Kyle only stretched lazily and waved him away, urging, "Fury, all military arrangements are in your hands now. Get going."

"When my rank surpasses yours, you'll see how I order you around." Fury gritted his teeth and left with a scowl.

He was venting, nothing more. Surpassing Kyle's rank? Impossible!

Within a year, Kyle had gone from fresh recruit to major general, climbing multiple ranks. "The youngest major general in history" barely began to describe it. Yet, three days ago, when the promotion news spread through the American base, the countless soldiers stationed there had no objections—they even felt it was only right.

The hero who embodied America's strength and conquest, the warrior who forced German troops out of the European battlefield, the one who eradicated Hydra in one fell swoop...

Only a major? That's not enough! Major general is normal!

To be honest, the entire U.S. military idolized Kyle. Anyone who dared criticize him would likely face the wrath of their own comrades.

"Why do I feel like a spokesperson for war?" Kyle mused, stroking his chin and yawning toward the sea ahead. There was still time before the fighting began, and his body relaxed out of boredom.

Perhaps he'd check the strategic map in the vessel's control center.

With that thought, Kyle slowly left the deck. But as he rounded the corner of the stairwell passage, he unexpectedly collided with a petite female military medic.

"Hmm?" Kyle's brow furrowed. Though his body was relaxed, his super soldier reflexes were no joke.

He deftly sidestepped, letting the medic stumble past him, then reached back and grabbed her by the collar, preventing her fall.

"Ah!" The female medic cried out in panic. When she came to her senses, she found herself dangling like a kitten in Kyle's grasp.

"Are you alright?" Kyle asked, gently setting her down.

The medic was pale with fright, her legs weak as she sat on the passage floor inside the ship, shaking her short, pale-red hair. She replied in a timid, soft voice, "I'm fine, really."

A woman? Military medic?

Kyle finally took a closer look at her. She looked no older than sixteen, her body not fully matured—her chest had only just begun to develop.

Yet it couldn't hide that she was a little beauty: reddish hair, fair skin, delicate features, slender figure, dressed in a white medic's uniform. With her pitiful expression, she seemed to inspire a protective urge.

Kyle, of course, wasn't interested in immature girls. But his attention was drawn to the ability cards manifesting around her, sparking his keen interest.

Mastery of Emergency Medical Care, Ballet, English...

Nothing unusual there. But also—

Mastery of True Assassination, True Handgun, True Disguise, Close-Quarters Combat, Soviet Codes, Psychological Warfare...

Even so, the most crucial card was—

Super Agent: The physique of a super agent, above top-level agents (a mid-tier version of the super soldier). Blue ability card.

With genetic modifications, aging is greatly slowed, and immunity and resilience are enhanced.

She possesses peak physical fitness for a normal human, speed, reflexes, and intelligence, maintaining her combat state for extended periods.

Current status: Can be drawn, cannot coexist with the super soldier ability.

"Interesting," Kyle murmured softly, his eyes lighting up as he regarded the young medic.

"Interesting?" The medic paused, then looked pitifully at her slender leg, now scraped and bleeding.

She took a timid breath and said, "General Kyle, could you please help me to the medical bay?"

Kyle didn't respond directly. Instead, he asked, "What's your name?"

"I… I'm Satana," she answered weakly.

"Satana," Kyle repeated, quickly nodding with a smile as he extended his hand.

Just as Satana thought Kyle was going to help her up, he waved at a passing navy soldier. "Come here and escort this medic to the medical bay."

"Yes, General Kyle." The sailor hurried forward and assisted Satana away.

Only when the two vanished down the ship's corridor did a trace of coldness appear on Kyle's face.

The Soviet Union—Red Room!

Last time, they took Bucky, badly wounded and fallen onto the glacier, to turn him into the Winter Soldier. That was one thing. But now, with the Allied nations united, they still dared to play their games in secret?

He would not let it pass.