Raccoon City.
Ada Wong, Jill Valentine, and others stared at the screen in stunned silence.
"Did he really destroy all the nukes from the U.S. and Russia?" Even the composed Ada found her voice shaky with disbelief.
Jill watched with a wry smile. "I thought I'd finally caught up after becoming a superhuman… turns out, he's still lightyears ahead."
"Brother Malrick, you're the best!!" Shirley cheered, raising her arms in celebration. "He saved us again!"
Marvin exchanged a glance with one of his officers and shrugged. "See? This is why we call you Kennedy, not Malrick."
Malrick S. Kennedy?
He chuckled and shook his head. "Maybe I should co up with a codena… carrying the sa na as that guy cos with pressure."
Back at the institute, scientists cheered as they watched the massive nuclear explosion in orbit.
Tony Stark, barely glancing up from his equipnt, simply muttered, "About ti."
He knew Malrick's strength better than anyone.
---
Elsewhere…
Malrick wasn't finished.
"Next targets: the Plaga parasite and the E-Mold."
He dived straight into the Earth's crust. Satellites lost track of him instantly. His body beca a fiery cot as he fell from orbit, landing with a thunderous boom in a remote village in the Valdelobos Valley, Spain.
The shockwave flattened half the village. Dozens of buildings crumbled, and the ground splintered like shattered glass. But no civilians were hard—Malrick had controlled the blast precisely.
Rising from the crater, he flew toward the ancient castle at the heart of the village—its Gothic structure magnificent but ominous.
Malrick paused for a few seconds, admiring the architecture.
Then he kicked the castle's outer gate.
The entire stone complex collapsed in a chain reaction, reduced to rubble. People erged from the ruins, confused but unhard.
Malrick's eyes narrowed as he scanned the survivors.
"Who's Sadler?"
His voice echoed with authority, yet his gaze locked instantly on a hooded figure holding a scepter at the back.
Osmund Sadler, leader of the Church of Illumination, planned to use the Las Plagas parasite to dominate the world.
The crowd instinctively turned to him.
Sadler stepped forward, trembling, then dropped to his knees with a thud.
"My lord… I am Sadler!"
Malrick walked across the rubble and stopped in front of him.
"Hand over the Dominant Plaga."
"Y-Yes, of course! But… the Dominant strain isn't here right now, I—I just need ti…"
"No?" Malrick's tone dropped. "That's odd. It's right here."
Before Sadler could react, Malrick stomped down—crushing his skull instantly—and vaporized the body with a beam of heat from his eyes.
Seconds later, a parasite squird out of the ashes.
"I hate liars."
He stored the specin and turned to the cultists.
"You have three days to eliminate the rest of the Plagas—or I'll do it myself."
Dust swirled.
Malrick vanished into thin air, a silent departure contrasting the fury of his arrival.
In the silence that followed, dozens fell to their knees.
---
Romania.
Within minutes, Malrick appeared above a village nestled in the Carpathians. From above, it looked quaint—but deep inside lay sothing much darker.
Floating over the castle center, he pinpointed the location of the gamycete—the fungal core that birthed the E-Mold.
With surgical speed, he crashed through the mountain, tearing through stone as though it were foam.
At the heart of the cave pulsed the Mold master—a grotesque, organic mass that resembled a giant pink infant. Its body expanded and contracted with life, billions of hyphae feeding into it.
"The third evolution key from Resident Evil: mold," Malrick muttered.
He drew a syringe, extracted a full vial of mycelium, then vaporized the grotesque host with his heat vision.
Instantly, a shriek echoed across the valley.
"WHO DARES! WHO DESTROYED THE MASTER?!"
The response was imdiate—like cutting power from an addict's device.
Malrick cracked the ceiling of the cavern and flew out into the open air, ice-cold fury in his wake.
"You'll regret this! STOP—NOW!"
It was Miranda—host of the mold and ruler of the region. She charged forward, followed by a grotesque band of Mold-infected creatures, so still vaguely human, others monstrous.
Perfect.
Malrick took to the skies.
Hovering high above, he drew in a deep breath—and unleashed his freezing breath at full power.
In seconds, the entire village—and everything within a three-kiloter radius—was entombed in crystal-clear ice. The lake outside the village froze solid. The twisted army was locked in place, expressions frozen mid-scream.
Even Miranda, suspended in a final mont of rage.
"She lived for over a century," Malrick said, floating to the glacier's edge. "This mold is more dangerous than I thought."
He grabbed the entire frozen block—massive, towering, and heavy—and soared back into orbit.
Satellites caught him again.
This ti, humanity had no idea what they were witnessing.
A massive iceberg—complete with houses, trees, and corpses—was hurled into space.
Malrick looked at it once… then punched.
The glacier shattered into billions of glittering shards—like cosmic fireworks.
Viewers around the world whispered: "Beautiful."
But when they looked back at the mysterious savior—he was already gone.
---
Raccoon City.
Malrick returned to the police station and was instantly sward.
Jill was first. She saluted him with tears in her eyes, then embraced him.
Applause thundered through the hall. Cheers. Laughter. Weeping. Relief.
Fireworks burst beside him, and rainbow confetti rained like a waterfall. Champagne sprayed across the room. One of them popped the bottle and let it explode.
They all saw it—Malrick, their savior, obliterating threats that had once spelled their doom.
Boys and girls kissed him on the cheek, proudly showing off afterward.
He had beco their symbol of hope. A na once whispered with fear was now cheered like a chant of salvation.
Malrick. The man who turned doomsday into a miracle.
The crowd lifted him high into the air—cheering like he was their champion, their hero, their future.
Then they pushed him to the podium.
"Say sothing!" they urged.
Even one word would live in their hearts forever.
Malrick stood, half-awkward, rembering the lavish parties of his youth—always as a bystander, never the star.
But the hopeful eyes in front of him told him he couldn't stay silent.
He cleared his throat.
Looked at the crowd.
Then sang the Internationale—in English.
A quiet chorus joined in. Then Russian. Then more voices, rising.
When the song ended, so wept. Others shouted.
But all of them surged forward, embracing him again.
The celebration lasted deep into the night.
Even Tony showed up, dragging a team of scientists behind him. He danced, laughed, drank, flirted—and for a brief mont, the burden of the apocalypse felt far away.
For the first ti in weeks, happiness returned to Raccoon City.
---
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