Su Zhan stared down at the staff lying on the floor. Even at a glance, he could tell this was no ordinary weapon. Its texture was unique, the intricate carvings and dark gleam hinting at something ancient and powerful. He recognized it immediately: this was a fragment of the Berserker Staff from Asgard. Though Natasha Romanoff had no idea what it was, Su Zhan knew its reputation well.
The Berserker Staff was a weapon of legend, said to grant its wielder the strength of ten Asgardian warriors, though at a terrible cost. It was not on par with Thor's hammer, of course, but among Asgardian arms, it was formidable. The staff was imbued with dark magic, designed not only to incite uncontrollable rage but also to draw out and amplify a person's deepest fears. Even an Asgardian could not guarantee perfect mastery over it, which was why it had been hidden away, split into pieces.
Su Zhan felt a dangerous temptation as he gazed at the staff. Part of him wanted to reach out and test its power for himself. He bent down, took a steadying breath, and, with a decisive motion, grasped the staff.
A surge of energy coursed through his body. For a moment, he felt an overwhelming wave of anger and arrogance, a wild urge to destroy everything in sight. He recognized the sensation immediately—the staff's magic was at work, trying to consume him with rage. But Su Zhan's will was strong, and the mental barrier provided by his Aether Lantern ring seemed to blunt the worst of the staff's influence. He forced himself to calm down, pushing back against the staff's magic until the storm inside him subsided.
Power. Immense, intoxicating power. He could feel it coursing through his veins, making him at least two or three times stronger than before. Yet, aside from the surge of anger, he felt no fear, no other ill effects. Perhaps his body was naturally resistant to magic, or perhaps the ring's mental shield protected him from the staff's deeper corruptions. Whatever the reason, he was grateful.
He smiled, satisfied. This was a rare opportunity: to gain such strength without worrying about dangerous side effects. He quickly stored the staff in his system space, then turned his attention to Natasha.
She was lying on the ground, her face pale, her breathing shallow. Su Zhan gently lifted her and placed her on the bed, noticing that she was still unconscious, her brow furrowed in distress. He could only imagine what she was seeing in her mind—likely the darkest memories from her past, the kind that never truly faded: the Red Room, the brutal training that had forged her into the Black Widow, the pain and fear she had endured. He doubted the staff's side effects would dissipate quickly, unless Natasha could confront and overcome her own fears.
"This woman is braver than most," Su Zhan thought, shaking his head. Natasha always appeared strong and unflappable, but now, she looked fragile and lost.
A sudden knock at the door startled him. The owner of the small hotel stepped in, looking nervous but curious about the commotion. Before the man could speak, Su Zhan fixed him with a steady gaze and spoke in a tone that brooked no argument. "We're staying in this room for a while. You don't need to worry about anything. Here, take this for your trouble."
He pressed a generous wad of bills into the owner's hand. The man's eyes widened, but he nodded quickly, turned on his heel, and left without another word, closing the door behind him.
Su Zhan turned back to Natasha, only to feel her hand suddenly clutch his. He looked down to see her eyes flutter open, confusion and fear flickering in their depths.
"You're awake," he said softly. "It's alright. How are you feeling?"
Natasha shook her head, unable to speak. Her eyes were wide, haunted, and she seemed to shrink away from him, as if still trapped in the nightmares the staff had conjured. Su Zhan's heart ached for her. "Don't worry," he said gently, "you were affected by the staff's magic. Whatever you saw, whatever you remembered—it's all in the past. You're safe now. Here, let me get you some water."
He stood to fetch a bottle of water, but before he could take a step, Natasha's grip tightened unexpectedly. With surprising strength, she pulled him off balance, and he tumbled onto the bed beside her.
"Whoa—" Su Zhan managed, trying to sit up, but Natasha clung to him, her arms locked around his neck. In her panic, she pulled him closer, and their lips met in a clumsy, accidental kiss. He tasted blood—her lip was split, likely from when she'd fallen earlier.
"Let me go first, Natasha," Su Zhan said softly, not wanting to frighten her further. "It's alright, I'm not going anywhere."
But Natasha only shook her head, refusing to release him. Her grip tightened, almost desperate, and she pressed her face into his neck, trembling. Su Zhan could feel her breath on his skin and the faint metallic tang of blood as she bit down, almost as if seeking comfort or grounding herself in reality.
He did not dare to force her off, worried that any sudden move might make things worse. Natasha seemed almost wild, her fear and confusion overwhelming her reason. Perhaps the taste of blood, the physical closeness, gave her something to focus on besides her memories.
"Easy, Natasha," Su Zhan murmured, stroking her back gently. "You're safe. I'm here."
For a long moment, they stayed like that—Natasha clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing in a world gone mad, Su Zhan holding her patiently, waiting for her to calm down. Gradually, her breathing slowed, and the tension in her body eased. She loosened her grip, though she still held onto him, as if afraid he might vanish if she let go.
Su Zhan's heart ached with sympathy. He had always admired Natasha's strength, her courage, her resilience. But now, seeing her so vulnerable, he felt a fierce protectiveness as well.
"Whatever you saw, whatever you faced, you're not alone anymore," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You have friends now. You have me."
Natasha closed her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek. For the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to lean on someone else, if only for a moment.
And in that quiet hotel room, with the city lights glowing outside and the darkness of the past receding, Su Zhan held her close, silently vowing to help her find peace—no matter how long it took.