Chapter 87 to Chapter 96

…

Facing Colonel Rhodes's gun, the woman turned around, revealing a stunning face full of exotic charm. Her beauty was both mature and captivating, yet she carried an opposite sense of purity. The combination of the two gave her an indescribable allure.

Her green eyes sparkled like gems, filled with emotion, and just looking at them made the air feel warmer. Rhodes swore that any man would be instantly captivated by the woman in front of him.

He found himself momentarily stunned, a dangerous lapse for a soldier. Thankfully, he quickly regained his composure, suppressing the heat rising within him. Tightening his grip on the pistol, he aimed it directly between her eyes.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" Rhodes demanded.

This was a military camp. Even though there weren't many soldiers outside, it wasn't the kind of place an ordinary person could just walk into.

"Nice to meet you, Colonel Rhodes," the woman said with a soft smile, her red lips curving upwards. She didn't seem fazed by the gun at all. Instead, she spoke in a low, almost teasing voice, "We are not enemies, and I don't think the thing in your hand poses any threat to me."

"Yeah?" Rhodes replied, maintaining a calm and dismissive demeanor, though in reality, sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead. He was starting to realize that this woman might not be bluffing. Despite her beauty, there was something about her that felt monstrously dangerous—like she wore the skin of a human, but hid the ferocity of a beast underneath.

Just looking into her striking green eyes filled him with an inexplicable fear. It was unsettling, and for the first time in a long while, Colonel Rhodes felt his fighting spirit waver.

It was terrifying.

"The reason I'm here is the same as yours," the woman said calmly, showing no aggression. "And I appreciate your help."

She didn't make any hostile moves. Instead, she simply turned and walked out of the camp. Rhodes kept his gun trained on her, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn't muster the courage to pull the trigger.

Just before leaving, the woman spoke one last time.

"Oh, by the way, Colonel Rhodes, I hope you won't mind if I borrow one of your cars."

The woman's graceful figure vanished completely into the blinding white light outside. It wasn't until Rhodes heard the familiar crackling of the military vehicle's engine starting up, followed by the sound fading into the distance, that he fully relaxed. His body, which had been tense with adrenaline, suddenly felt like it had just come out of a sauna—his forehead dripping with sweat, and his back soaked with cold perspiration. He breathed heavily, his eyes wide with the fear of having just narrowly escaped something terrifying.

"Damn that woman," Rhodes muttered under his breath, incredulous. No one had ever shaken him like that—not since his childhood, and certainly not since joining the military.

There had been no hostile stance, no harsh tone or threatening glare. In fact, everything about her—her posture, her gaze, her words—had been so calm, even gentle. And yet, that calmness made him feel as if death itself had been staring him in the face.

It had shaken him to his core, left him trembling and afraid.

Rhodes had a gut feeling that, just as the woman hinted, his trusted weapon would have been useless against her. If she had wanted to kill him, he realized, he wouldn't have had the courage to resist.

"This is insane. What the hell did I just encounter?" Rhodes muttered as he walked out of the camp, still overwhelmed by shock and fear.

When he stepped outside, a wave of confusion crossed his face. Soldiers were patrolling and organizing equipment as usual, completely oblivious to the fact that the woman had just driven off in one of their vehicles.

Rhodes stood there, stunned.

In the desert, a military open-top Humvee sped across the sand, kicking up clouds of yellow dust behind it. Natasha, dressed in a gray suit and short vest, was at the wheel. One hand gripped the steering wheel while the other rested casually on the door. Sunglasses perched on her face completed her look as she spoke while driving.

"That map will save us a lot of time," Natasha said. "With my knowledge and Haki, I'll be able to locate the remaining area easily. Don't worry, my current range of awareness is far broader than you think. You'll be ready to back me up when needed."

Yelena's enthusiastic voice echoed through the headset. Natasha smirked, her red lips curling slightly as she glanced up at the blazing sun in the sky. Despite the intense heat, Natasha didn't react to the harsh rays of the desert sun.

After receiving the super-soldier serum, her strength had increased tenfold. According to Leon, the serum had not only enhanced her physical abilities but had also helped her transcend the limits of human genetics.

In two words: evolution.

The most noticeable effect was not just the improvement in her physical abilities but also her adaptability. Her body now adjusted itself automatically to harsh environments. Even in the scorching 40-degree heat, she didn't feel the burn of the sun's rays or the discomfort of ultraviolet exposure.

Beyond that, her intelligence and Haki had also been significantly enhanced.

Maybe she had a natural talent in this area. Aside from Wanda, her Haki was far stronger than anyone else's, and she could use its power to suppress her own aura, even affecting the vision, hearing, and other senses of those around her.

That's how she was able to walk into the military camp, drive off in the Humvee, and yet the soldiers acted like they hadn't even seen her.

Her Observation Haki allowed her to sense the presence of others, detect objects outside her field of vision, and gauge their location and numbers. The range varied from person to person, but Natasha's Haki could spread over more than ten kilometers. She was like a walking, human radar.

The Middle East was vast, and while Rhodes had spent months searching large areas, her abilities saved her a lot of trouble.

As she drove, Natasha extended her Haki, scanning the surroundings.

"Forty-five degrees, thirteen kilometers to the east—peaceful, a settlement with calm energy," she muttered. "Sixty degrees, twelve kilometers to the west—also peaceful. Thirty degrees, eight kilometers to the south—fewer people, agitated atmosphere, small armed forces."

"Hmm?" Natasha's senses suddenly picked up on something. A large group of people. Their aura was cruel and bloodthirsty, like wild dogs. But what caught her attention most was the presence of two distinct auras, one of which felt heavily suppressed.

Natasha's eyes lit up. "Yelena, I think I've found it."

"Finally? I'll be right there," Yelena replied.

…

In the dark cave, Tony Stark, who had been missing for several months, lay on a wooden board, wearing a dusty gray tank top. He stared blankly at the small window in the corner, the only source of light.

He could no longer remember how many days and sleepless nights he had spent there. In the beginning, he had clung to life by holding onto a car battery, then he fell into a state of despair. He was forced to create a new weapon, the Jericho missile. Finally, encouraged by the old man named Yinsen, he resolved to use his intelligence to escape.

In the corner not far away stood a tall object covered by a rag—his only hope for escape.

Tony's chest rose and fell, and he could feel his life force weakening. Every night, the pain in his chest would wake him up multiple times. His eyes were unfocused, and his mind felt completely blank.

Not far away, Yinsen, with gray hair at his temples and glasses, sat in front of the stove, brewing low-quality coffee.

Aside from the chaotic noise outside, the cave was quiet and strangely peaceful. Noise? It seemed distant.

Tony Stark was still in a daze when he suddenly sensed something was wrong. He sat up abruptly from the board and looked at Yinsen in surprise.

Yinsen had stood up at some point and was now looking at Tony with the same concern.

"What's going on outside?" Tony asked.

"I don't know," Yinsen replied, shaking his head. "But this is where those guys gather, and they have a large armed force. There shouldn't be any accidents, right?"

Tony frowned and glanced at the large object in the corner, still covered by a cloth. He estimated it would take about a week to complete, and he couldn't afford for anything to go wrong now.

Boom!!

Ta! Ta! Ta!

Suddenly, an explosion echoed through the cave, followed by a barrage of gunfire and roars in a language Tony couldn't understand. The explosion shook the cave, and both Tony and Yinsen realized that a firefight had broken out between the terrorists and another group.

"Damn it," Tony muttered impatiently.

He had no idea who the other group was. If it was the U.S. military, that would be fine. But if it was someone else, it would undoubtedly disrupt his escape plan.

Yinsen leaned against the metal door, listening carefully to the chaos outside.

He could understand the language of the terrorists and tried his best to gather information from their screams amidst the explosions and gunfire.

"What are you hearing?" Tony asked.

"It sounds like someone is attacking this place. From what they're saying, it seems like there's only one person on the other side? They're calling them a devil," Yinsen said, his face filled with confusion. "Did I hear that right? One person? A devil?"

Tony's already haggard face turned a shade darker.

"Damn..." he muttered.

He hated this feeling of facing an unknown danger. All he could do was sit there, praying for some slim chance of survival. It was a helplessness he vowed never to experience again.

Boom!

The explosions grew louder, and the entire cave began to shake more violently. Dust and bits of gravel fell from the walls with each tremor.

This time, though, the chaos was accompanied by the sound of a shrill, desperate scream.

Tony's unease intensified.

Yinsen pressed his ear against the metal door, trying to hear more. Suddenly, a slightly magnetic, hoarse voice—a woman's—reached their ears.

"The gentleman leaning against the door, could you please step back?"

Yinsen and Tony were stunned and exchanged a glance. Yinsen hesitated, then quickly stepped back a few paces.

The next moment, there was a loud boom, and the iron door seemed to be torn off its hinges by some terrifying force. It slammed into the opposite wall and crashed to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Cold sweat appeared on both Tony and Yinsen's foreheads. What on earth was this? A monster?

As the dust was swept away by a breeze, a graceful figure emerged. She had a delicate face, short burgundy curls, and wore a gray vest. It was Natasha.

Tony, who hadn't seen a woman in months, stared wide-eyed, almost in disbelief. Yinsen, however, managed to keep his composure despite his age.

"Miss, are you here to kill him or save him?" Yinsen asked cautiously.

"I'm going to go with the latter," Natasha replied, brushing back her short curls with a smile full of charm.

Tony immediately perked up and, in his most gentlemanly tone, said, "Well, looks like being rescued by a beautiful lady is the best thing that's happened to me in months."

"Uh-uh," Natasha gave him a half-smile and replied, "If I were here to kill you, I doubt you'd be saying that."

"Ha, I don't believe someone as beautiful as you would ever be a killer," Tony shrugged, his expression playfully suggesting he wouldn't mind dying in her hands.

Natasha shook her head and turned toward the door. After taking a couple of steps, she glanced back slightly and said softly, "Follow me. Let's go."

"Um, it seems like there's still fighting outside," Tony said, pointing nervously at the skylight behind him.

"Don't worry, they're just a bunch of small fry," Natasha replied casually, walking ahead. Tony and Yinsen exchanged quick looks.

"Aren't we supposed to follow?" Yinsen asked.

"I think so," Tony nodded. "Yeah, we should follow."

With that brief exchange, Tony and Yinsen quickly trailed behind her. The memory of the metal door being ripped apart was still fresh in their minds, and Tony certainly didn't want to risk having his skull cracked by this mysterious woman.

With a mix of excitement and anxiety, they carefully left the cave. As they stepped out, they were greeted by a grim sight—bodies scattered along the winding cave passages, and walls riddled with holes.

The faces of the corpses were frozen in expressions of sheer terror and despair. Their bodies were mangled, as if they had been struck by a speeding truck, with dents, broken limbs, and blood everywhere. The scene was gruesome.

"Did she do that?"Tony suddenly felt that he was seeking death with his attitude a few moments ago.

…

Tony was panicking right now.

He saw a beautiful woman earlier, and he could've sworn he'd never seen a women of her level before. He was stunned for a moment, but he didn't expect that this woman was more than just a beauty—she was powerful enough to take out terrorists with a single punch.

Now, he was terrified.

Tony Stark and his doctor, Yinsen, walked out of the cave, trembling. Outside, the sounds of gunfire and explosions were fading.

As they cautiously made their way around the corner, both clutching makeshift weapons, they finally reached the mouth of the cave. Tony crouched down, leaning against the wall as he peeked outside. The blinding sunlight poured in, making him squint and instinctively raise his hands to shield his eyes.

It took a moment for his vision to adjust, and when it did, he opened his eyes fully.

What he saw made him lean back in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief.

This was the most unforgettable scene Tony had ever witnessed. It was a bloody nightmare. The area outside the cave was basin-shaped, surrounded by yellow sand and encircled by rock walls. From high above, several 257 machine guns had been positioned, their muzzles now silent.

There was only one entrance from the outside.

In this confined space, the ground was littered with corpses, blood pooling beneath them. Weapons, ammunition boxes, and tents had been set ablaze, the flames roaring fiercely.

Among the bodies stood that graceful, beautiful woman, holding a bald man dressed in the terrorists' signature camouflage uniform in her slender hands. His bald head was smeared with blood, and his body hung limply in her grip.

Tony instantly recognized him—the leader of the group that had demanded he build the Jericho missiles.

The man's breath was shallow, his head drooped, and he muttered something unintelligible, perhaps a curse.

The woman, now standing amidst the carnage, seemed less like a person and more like a terrifying figure of death to Tony. The breeze gently rustled her burgundy curls.

She spoke softly, her voice tinged with a lazy sort of menace: "I can feel the presence of innocent souls on you. You deserve to die."

And with that, she tossed him aside.

The bald leader flew like a cannonball, crashing into the distant rock wall, his entire body embedding into it. His limbs twisted grotesquely, leaving a human-shaped indent, while blood flowed steadily. The man twitched once before falling completely silent.

Tony and Yinsen gulped at the sight, their faces filled with nervous tension.

They were absolutely terrified.

Is this woman a monster in human skin?

The woman turned slightly, casting a perfect profile toward the two stunned men. Her tone puzzled, she asked, "You seem to be thinking something bad?"

"No, no, not at all!"

Both men immediately stood upright as if jolted by electricity, frantically waving their hands.

"Good," she replied. With a blink of her seductive eyes, Natasha continued walking, her slender legs moving gracefully. As she passed several missile launchers loaded with Jericho missiles, she gave them a casual kick, sending them crashing together.

She grabbed a timer bomb from an ammunition box, set the timer, and tossed it onto the missile launcher. Seeing this, Tony and Yinsen quickened their pace, following closely behind.

As they exited the narrow basin, a vast yellow desert stretched before them. Parked on the sand was a Humvee, and further ahead, a sleek black fighter plane with its door open, metal stairs extending down. Natasha walked straight up into the plane.

Tony and Yinsen exchanged grimaces. If given the choice, both would have preferred the Humvee over the plane.

However, it was obvious they had no choice, and both feared ending up like the terrorist leader if they disobeyed.

The two men cautiously walked down the stairs into the cabin. To Tony's surprise, the interior was nothing like other fighter jets or transport planes. This plane felt more like a small private jet. There were no visible weapons, and the decor was luxurious and warm. Hand-painted animal prints adorned the walls.

Natasha sat comfortably in a lounge seat, leaning back lazily, her legs crossed, exuding both elegance and ease. When she saw the two men timidly walking in, she tapped her chin, gesturing for them to sit.

Obediently, they sat down in the seats opposite her.

From the pilot's seat behind them, Yelena, wearing headphones, turned her head to look at Tony and immediately exclaimed, "Wow! Is that the famous Tony Stark? Looks more like a homeless person now."

With his usual temper, Tony instinctively wanted to fire back with a witty retort, but one glance at Natasha made him swallow his words. So frustrating—when had he ever been this restrained?

He totally forgot he was held by a terrorist group until a few minutes ago.

Natasha, shaking her head, gently tapped Yelena's head and scolded her, "If you were kidnapped for a few months, you'd look like a homeless girl too."

"Cut it out~~" Yelena pouted, rubbing the spot where she'd been tapped, though secretly enjoying the sisterly affection.

But she couldn't express her personality.

"Alright, it's time for us to go."

Whoosh!

Yelena piloted the plane, and it started smoothly. The support frame and stairs automatically retracted, and the aircraft lifted off vertically. Yelena's flying skills were impressive—there was barely any turbulence during takeoff.

Boom!

An explosion erupted outside the plane, and a massive mushroom cloud engulfed the cave. The entire basin was flattened, and every trace of their presence was consumed by the explosion's flames.

Tony felt a sense of relief and turned his attention to the plane. As one of the most brilliant scientists of the century, he quickly observed that the aircraft was equipped with cutting-edge technology. Whoever had built this plane was highly skilled.

Of course, Tony also spotted a few flaws. Just as he was pondering the plane's design, two bottles of chilled juice appeared in front of him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He looked up and saw Natasha holding the juice, which she had taken from a small refrigerator next to her seat. She handed one bottle to Tony and another to Yinsen.

After months in the sweltering Middle Eastern heat, where the terrorists barely provided them with enough food or care, the sight of a cold drink made their eyes light up. Tony and Yinsen gratefully accepted the juice, not forgetting to say their thanks.

…

Gulp~ Gulp~

Tony couldn't wait to unscrew the bottle cap and downed half of the juice in one go. The icy coldness traveled from his throat to his stomach, making both him and Yinsen shiver. It was like being caught in a refreshing rainstorm—absolutely wonderful.

Tony even thought that, no matter how many gourmet meals he'd enjoyed from five-star chefs in the past, none could compare to this bottle of chilled juice.

The burning heat from their ordeal seemed to melt away.

Tony leaned back, relaxing as a look of contentment crossed his face, eyes half-closed in bliss.

Natasha, watching their reactions, didn't laugh. She had experienced far worse conditions than this. Instead, she raised her eyebrows and focused on the faint blue light emitting from Tony's chest.

Her sharp eyes quickly scanned the device and the metal fragments lodged inside Tony's body, held in place by the glowing mechanism. Instantly recognizing what it was, she gave a small nod of admiration.

"You really are a genius," Natasha said, impressed. "In those conditions, you managed to build a miniature Arc Reactor."

She believed he was the only person in the world capable of pulling this off. Although Tony was arrogant, full of himself, and often reckless, there was no denying that his brilliance allowed him to back it all up.

"No matter how talented you are, there are times when you'll feel utterly hopeless," Tony said bitterly, closing the juice bottle and holding it in his hand. The months spent in the cave had changed him.

He realized that being a genius and a billionaire didn't mean much when faced with cruel terrorists. In their eyes, he was just prey. If they hadn't needed him to build the Jericho missile, he would have been killed long ago, his body discarded in the desert to dry up like a mummy.

The military had failed, and external forces couldn't guarantee safety. He could only rely on himself. Tony also knew that he didn't have superpowers, nor did he possess the incredible strength and speed of someone like Natasha, the woman who seemed almost superhuman.

But what he did have was his intellect and a mind capable of making more money than anyone else.

He thought back to his time in the cave, where he had to rely solely on himself to build both the "big guy" and the little device on his chest.

Maybe...

His mind began to flood with data and diagrams, but now wasn't the time to get lost in his thoughts. What really mattered was understanding why these two women had come to rescue him.

Tony adjusted his expression, looking at Natasha seriously before asking, "So, I'm very grateful for you coming to save me, and also for this bottle of juice. But tell me, who sent you?"

"My name is Natasha. As for who we are, you don't need to know. But rest assured, we have no ill intentions towards you. Saving you is simply part of a deal."

"A deal?"

"That's right. To save you, we need something from Stark Industries—the big guy."

"The Ark Reactor?"

"Exactly." Natasha nodded. "I know you won't hand over the core technical drawings of that thing, so we need the finished product."

"The energy from that thing is far more powerful than you realize," Tony said calmly. "It could power all of New York for half a year."

Natasha saw through Tony's attempt to gauge her intentions and smiled. "That's precisely why we need it. I need its stable energy supply to support a big project."

"I'm curious—what's this 'big project'?" Tony asked.

"That's all I can tell you for now. If you really want to know more, you'd have to join us," Natasha replied with a half-smile.

Tony's expression immediately changed, and he waved his hand dismissively. "Forget it then. How many do you need?"

"We need five for the first batch, and one every year after that."

"Wow, that's a lot of money."

"The first batch is free," Natasha said firmly. "After that, we'll buy each one annually."

Although Natasha maintained a firm attitude, Tony didn't get angry. After all, the woman in front of him was mysterious, but she had saved him from a dire situation. Tony was capable of handling that much. He pondered for a moment, his eyes flickering with thought, but he didn't respond right away.

The atmosphere grew quiet. Yinsen, leaning back in his chair, sipped from his juice bottle occasionally, seemingly indifferent to the conversation. However, there was a hint of sadness in his eyes, as though he were lost in thought.

After reflecting, Tony looked at Natasha's strikingly beautiful face and spoke softly, "If I provide the Ark Reactor for free, can I earn your friendship?"

Huh?

Tony's words caught Natasha off guard. She stared at him, surprised. "It's unusual for someone like you to say something like that."

Natasha already had a basic profile of Tony Stark in her mind. To her, he was easy to read—proud, domineering, flamboyant, high-profile, arrogant, and self-centered, with little regard for others. He was highly suspicious of anyone or anything unfamiliar.

While Tony could be generous, he only extended that generosity to those who earned his approval and became true friends.

This ordeal in the cave, Natasha guessed, would probably change some aspects of his personality—at least when it came to being more cautious about his safety.

Despite having saved him, Natasha knew that her mysterious identity made it impossible for Tony to fully trust her. Even though she had openly stated that the rescue was simply a one-time deal, Tony wasn't likely to believe her completely.

She even believed that although Tony might genuinely provide the Ark Reactor and not reveal her identity to the outside world or the military, he would almost certainly investigate things secretly. However, Tony made a risky decision that surprised her. Instead of keeping his distance, he sought to use this opportunity to forge a friendship with a mysterious organization—one that was far from ordinary.

So, what drove Tony to make such a decision?

With her sharp intelligence, Natasha quickly analyzed the situation from Tony's perspective. Given the circumstances, she could understand his reasoning. Deep down, he was still feeling unsettled.

He had been abruptly kidnapped, and the military escort's movements had been compromised. The Jericho missiles, which were secretly developed for the military, had ended up in the hands of terrorists. Clearly, there was a traitor within Stark Industries, someone high-ranking—perhaps someone Tony didn't want to suspect.

Moreover, the extraordinary abilities Natasha displayed proved to him that there were many powerful superhumans in the world, something he hadn't fully grasped until now.

…

Tony realized that even if he returned home, his safety was not guaranteed. Before he could build a security defense network himself, he needed an external party to provide protection. Natasha, along with the organization behind her, seemed like the best option.

At the very least, Natasha clearly wanted the Ark Reactor, and as long as that was the case, she would ensure nothing happened to Tony, the one who held the key to its technology. In this sense, they were natural allies.

Of course, there was always the possibility that Natasha had other intentions. Still, Tony believed that as long as she didn't pose a threat to him now, she wouldn't in the near future. He was betting on this, and the odds were in his favor.

Tony quickly assessed the situation, demonstrating a level of wisdom that Natasha acknowledged. She also gained deeper insight into his character.

"You're very clever," Natasha said after a moment of thought. Then, she changed the subject. "So, what do you need from us?"

"Huh!"

Tony felt a bit more at ease after hearing those words. He was on the right track with his gamble.

His gaze sharpened as he spoke seriously, "When I return, I'm going to announce the closure of the arms division. The Stark Industries will enter a period of turmoil, at least for a short while.

During this turmoil, anyone could come after me or my people. Ordinary threats, I'm not worried about. But—"

"You want us to protect you from people like me?" Natasha interrupted with a sly smile, her red lips curling up.

"Exactly. I can handle regular business wars and corporate struggles, but when it comes to people like you, I'm not so sure," Tony admitted without hesitation.

Normally, he wouldn't be concerned about his safety. As the director of Stark Industries and a billionaire, he had a solid security team, not just his trusted bodyguard Happy. If regular people tried to come after him, they wouldn't succeed.

But individuals with unique powers? That was a different story.

"How long?" Natasha asked, her eyes glinting.

"Six months," Tony suggested.

"Too long. Not possible," Natasha rejected immediately.

"Three months, then," Tony countered without hesitation.

Three months would be enough for him to develop the technology he needed. By then, he would have the ability to protect himself. But could he really be confident about solving it all within that time?

Natasha thought for a moment. Three months wasn't a long period, and since it was in New York, there shouldn't be any major issues. She nodded and agreed, "Alright."

"We'll keep an eye on you, quietly."

"Thank you," Tony replied, smiling. "After I return, Stark Industries will deliver the first Ark Reactor, but it will take time to assemble."

Despite the smile, Tony's curiosity about the woman in front of him and the organization behind her only deepened. How powerful must they be to have such confidence?

Not long after, Tony finally returned to New York.

Unsurprisingly, his return caused an uproar across the United States. Major media outlets rushed to New York, eager for a scoop on Tony Stark. Everyone was curious about what had happened to the billionaire during his kidnapping—and most importantly, who had rescued him.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

It wasn't just the news media. Numerous institutions, individuals, and departments with stakes in Stark Industries were closely monitoring the situation. Some were even beginning to make their own moves.

But unexpectedly, as soon as Tony arrived back in New York, he held a press conference and made a huge announcement.

At the Stark Industries press conference, Tony Stark made a solemn announcement:

"From now on, Stark Industries will be shutting down its arms division and will no longer be involved in weapons manufacturing."

The room erupted in shock. Reporters from every major outlet shot up from their seats, rushing to the front of the room, shouting questions at the top of their lungs:

"Mr. Stark, why did you make this decision? Does the board of directors support it?"

"Mr. Stark, will closing the arms division cause irreversible harm to Stark Industries' future?"

"Mr. Stark, now that you've exited the arms market, will Stark Industries pivot to other industries?"

"Was this decision influenced by your kidnapping experience?"

"Mr. Stark!"

The crowd buzzed with excitement and disbelief, but Tony, dressed in his signature suit and sunglasses, said nothing further. He had already explained his reasons for closing the arms division during the press conference, but he knew the reporters—and the world—wouldn't easily accept it. Not that it mattered to him.

Without another word, he turned and left the stage, followed closely by his good friend Colonel Rhodes, his bodyguard Happy, and his assistant Pepper Potts.

Meanwhile, Obadiah Stane, bald and muscular, another board member of Stark Industries, remained behind. His face was a mask of forced calm as he struggled to contain his anger. Trying to smooth things over, he faced the reporters and offered them a strained smile while hurriedly answering their questions.

Unfortunately, the closure of the arms division was inevitable. As the director of Stark Industries, Tony had the authority to make such a decision.

Behind the crowd of reporters, a mysterious woman in a black trench coat, sunglasses, and burgundy curls sat calmly, observing the chaotic scene. She watched the man at the news desk, the so-called "father" of Stark Industries, with a faint smile on her lips. She murmured softly to herself, in a voice only she could hear:

"Is it really you? Though well-hidden, the power struggles of wealthy families are always the same—full of hypocrisy, cunning, and bloodshed."

She sighed. "How dull."

...

In the Stark Industries office, Obadiah, furiously swept everything off his desk—papers, decorations, all of it. He looked like an enraged bull, gripping the desk with his chest heaving, his face twisted in anger, eyes bloodshot.

"Tony Stark," he growled, "I've tolerated your recklessness again and again, but you've disappointed me beyond measure. You're just as arrogant as your father."

"I won't let you two—father and son—destroy all my hard work."

"You should have died back there," he muttered darkly. "I didn't want to get my hands dirty, but you've left me no choice."

His voice, dripping with murderous intent, echoed through the office. Obadiah's gaze fell on a photo of him and Tony, the only thing left standing on the desk. His eyes were cold, filled with resentment.

"You foolish! Arrogant! Little piece of shit... you deserve what's coming."

…

Outside a café on a New York street, Leon sat in a white shirt and sunglasses, sipping coffee and scrolling through his phone. On the table in front of him was an unopened cup of coffee, which seemed to be waiting for someone. His tall frame and striking demeanor had already caught the attention of a group of girls sitting nearby.

Not far away, under a large billboard, a police car was parked. Two uniformed officers leaned against the car, casually chatting and drinking coffee.

Moments later, the typical New York chaos unfolded.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The unmistakable sound of gunfire echoed from a nearby street, followed by terrified screams.

Panic spread as people ran in all directions. The two officers immediately tossed their coffee cups into the trash, jumped into their patrol car, switched on the sirens, and sped off toward the source of the commotion.

Leon calmly set his phone down, his gaze following the police car. He knew what was happening. A classic bank robbery.

Judging by the commotion, it seemed like a group of Hell's Kitchen gang members, probably strung out on drugs and desperate for cash, had once again decided to try their luck.

If you ask him how he knew, well, it's simple. Having sharp insight means one glance is enough to see right through a situation—perhaps even through a person.

Leon took a moment to admire the daring robbers from his spot, but he didn't budge, as if he were just watching another typical New York street performance.

Help out? Please. He had no intention of playing superhero. Besides, it was a bank robbery—the ones losing out were capitalists. He might even cheer them on if they weren't so messy about it.

The situation, however, was escalating quickly. The robbers had pulled out heavy firepower, clearly losing control. In response, the police station had deployed a large number of armed officers. Nearby, bullets flew, and several police cars were blown up in the chaos.

Yet on Leon's side of the street, people continued sipping their coffee, barely paying attention. It was as if this level of mayhem was just another day in New York City—a city known for having "simple folks."

Just as Leon was enjoying the spectacle, he suddenly sensed something. He turned his head and looked up the street. Sure enough, there was a figure in red and blue tights, swinging from a tall building on spider silk, speeding toward the scene of the crime.

As the figure drew closer, the crowd below erupted in excitement.

"Look, it's Spider Boy!"

"It's that damn bug again. Last time he caught a robber, he nearly wrecked my store!"

"It's Spider-Man, Mom! Look, he's going to stop the crime!"

"Yo-ho!" As if hearing the comments from below, the young Spider-Man swung around the high-rise, letting out an excited roar, much like Tarzan.

Finally, Spider-Man leapt from a height of several stories, descending toward the bank robbers below.

When it comes to power, if you have money, you rely on technology. If you don't, you rely on mutation. As a prime example of the latter, Spider-Man's strength is simply overwhelming by human standards. His arm strength is in the tens of tons, he can outrun a sports car, and his spider sense gives him near-perfect awareness.

The robbers didn't stand a chance. Within moments, they were subdued, tied up in webbing like a display piece.

The police watched, visibly displeased, as Spider-Man swung around, talking about being "New York's friendly neighborhood hero." His flashy style nearly made a few of the younger officers want to draw their guns. Though Spider-Man's presence reduced the casualty rate and boosted arrests, it also diminished the role of the police. With tensions already high between law enforcement and the public, there were even growing calls in Congress to defund the police.

There's no doubt Spider-Man, with all his heroics, was not only undermining the police but also potentially threatening their livelihood—one reason why many officers were deeply unhappy with him.

Of course, this had nothing to do with Leon. He merely observed that the little spider had grown much stronger compared to the previous movies. He no longer faced the classic scenes of being knocked down by ordinary criminals.

It makes sense. Even though Spider-Man's fighting skills aren't exceptional, his spider sense and powerful physical instincts allow him to react perfectly to any attack. Ordinary people can't hurt Spider-Man, even at close range.

"Not bad, Peter Parker," Leon mused. He had a good opinion of the young hero. Spider-Man is often regarded as Marvel's last remaining character with real heart—and that reputation isn't unfounded. At least this version of Spider-Man isn't the reckless kid from the future who would one day create three parallel universes.

But while Spider-Man may be cool now, the future holds significant challenges for him. The biggest threat comes from the Morlun family, a group that specializes in hunting down Spider-Man and absorbing the power of his spider totem. According to an ancient family prophecy, Spider-Man is destined to destroy them, so they began hunting "Spider-Men" across various dimensions to consume their souls, growing stronger in the process.

This family is no pushover either—they once defeated Cosmic Spider-Man, although part of that was due to Cosmic Spider-Man being heavily nerfed by the writers.

But these things are far off, and Leon's attention isn't on them right now. To him, they're just walking gene pools.

However, Spider-Man has great potential. Since Leon plans to establish his own organization, Spider-Man is certainly within his scope of consideration. As for whether or not he will bring him in, Leon plans to think it over.

After the bank robbery drama ended, the nearby streets grew quiet again. Leon picked up his coffee and took a sip. Not far away, a graceful woman in a black trench coat and sunglasses approached. She sat down in the chair opposite him.

Her signature burgundy curly hair fluttered gently in the breeze, and although her sunglasses partially obscured her face, they couldn't hide her beauty. The nearby girls, who had gathered up the courage to "make friends" with Leon, sighed in disappointment.

Natasha glanced around, noticing the girls secretly looking over. With a half-smile, she said, "It seems my appearance has dashed the hopes of quite a few girls."

"They'll forget soon enough," Leon replied, his expression unchanged as he looked at the striking woman in front of him.

Natasha wasn't sure if that was truly the nature of girls, but she didn't argue.

…

"Did you fall for that little spider just now?" Natasha asked, not teasing but shifting the conversation. She had clearly noticed the bank robbery earlier.

Leon shook his head slightly. "That kid is different from us."

As he said this, it was clear he wasn't interested in bringing Spider-Man into their circle, at least not for the time being. His decision was based on Spider-Man's personality and experiences.

Leon, Natasha, and Wanda all had one thing in common: a tragic past. Each of them had faced darkness at a young age, experiencing the harsh realities of the world. Because of this, they now lived only for themselves and their chosen family, with Leon at the center.

Though they were inherently kind-hearted, even with powers far beyond those of ordinary people, they didn't feel the need to flaunt their abilities recklessly or impose their will on others. They showed compassion when dealing with everyday people.

However, when it came to enemies, once someone was marked as a threat, there was no hesitation—man, woman, young, or old—they would be eliminated. The only thing they truly cared about was each other and their family.

They had lost family members before, which made them value their relationships with each other even more than most people. Anyone who threatened to destroy that bond would see their kindness stripped away, revealing a fierce, blood-stained resolve.

But Spider-Man was different. He was too kind, so much so that when bonded with the Venom symbiote, the darkest part of him only sought a raise from his boss and the chance to dance in the street. This stark difference in mindset was why Spider-Man wasn't like them. He didn't walk the same path.

Because of that, Leon would consider bringing Spider-Man into their circle, but only if the young hero faced a life-threatening crisis.

"Impressive kid," Natasha remarked, having noticed it too. She then glanced at the phone on Leon's desk. The screen displayed Tony Stark's press conference.

"You saw it?" she asked.

"Uh-huh," Leon responded.

"You don't seem surprised by his decision."

"I'm not," Leon said, shaking his head with a small laugh. "When someone's been kidnapped and out of touch with society for months, you can't be shocked by what they do when they come back. So, did he agree to our deal?"

"Yes. He's using all future Ark reactors as bargaining chips in exchange for our friendship and for us to secretly protect him for three months."

"Sounds like something he'd do," Leon mused. "It seems he's very interested in you—or us."

Leon immediately understood Tony's intentions.

"Indeed, that's why I agreed," Natasha said.

"Then I'll leave the trouble to you," Leon chuckled.

Natasha rolled her eyes, annoyed. "You're really an unscrupulous capitalist. Maybe I should hire a group of robbers to steal from you."

"Just make sure the robbers you hire are stronger," Leon replied nonchalantly.

Natasha glared at him but then frowned and asked, "We've made a deal with Tony, but what are you going to do about Wanda and Pietro?"

Wanda and Pietro had moved on from their darker days in recent years, but that didn't mean they'd given up on the idea of revenge against Tony Stark. When Leon arrived in New York, the twins were already contemplating how to get their revenge. They just hadn't expected Tony to get kidnapped.

Now that Leon had made a deal with Tony, Natasha knew the twins wouldn't hesitate to put aside their grudge because of their loyalty to Leon. But she also knew Leon well enough to realize he wouldn't make that choice lightly, especially when his family had been wronged.

"What will you do?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"I won't deny my family their justice. If Wanda and Pietro want revenge, I won't stop them," Leon shrugged. "And I believe Wanda will find a way to get what we need when the time comes. It's up to her how she wants to handle it."

"That's really your style," Natasha said, her red lips curling into a smile.

Leon's character was distinct. The way he approached things, especially regarding family, always felt reassuring and never disappointing. Natasha felt the same; she didn't care who Tony was—billionaire, genius scientist. If Wanda wanted revenge, she could break Tony's hands and feet without hesitation and throw him at her feet.

"That guy must be working on something big in these three months," Natasha mused.

"In three months, what could he possibly do to give him the confidence to face any crisis or conspiracy?"

"What do you think?" Leon raised an eyebrow.

"Armor," Natasha replied. "In the cave, I saw what he built. It's hard to imagine that, in such conditions, he could construct that massive thing and even shrink the Ark reactor. He's truly a genius."

Tony might have thought Natasha didn't notice everything while she was rescuing him. But in reality, even before her physical enhancements, Natasha had been a top spy, skilled in visual capture and analysis.

Although things in the corner of the cave were covered, the commotion from Natasha violently opening the iron door revealed enough clues. She immediately noticed the partially covered rags and wires connecting it to the Ark reactor on Tony's chest, which was powering something much larger. It wasn't hard to guess what that "big thing" was.

Natasha's praise of Tony as a genius on the plane had been a double entendre.

"Then we'll see what fate has in store for him," Leon said, taking a sip of his coffee. "Will it be death or rebirth?"

Leon was also curious about what Wanda would choose—what path her future destiny would take. He found himself looking forward to it.

Natasha narrowed her bright eyes slightly. It was the first time she had seen him like this. It seemed the playboy was more important to him than she had thought.

...

In a small Texas town, the population was sparse, and it lacked the hustle and bustle of a big city. But it had the charm of the Texan countryside: shrubs, forests, and rivers, neatly arranged flower beds, cobblestone paths, and quaint buildings on either side. In the distance, cowboys rode horses and herded cattle on the vast grasslands. Everything seemed calm and peaceful.

But if you thought the people here were friendly, you'd be wrong. Anger a local, and you might find a redneck pulling out his long shotgun, aiming it at your crotch with a crazed grin.

This is Texas.

At least, that's what Wanda and Pietro thought, as they had encountered such things more than once.

Of course, it was either a robbery or an attempted one. After all, Wanda had blossomed since she was a little girl, becoming more beautiful and charming. But people often overlook one important thing: sometimes, the more beautiful something is, the more dangerous it becomes. There was no need for Sergei to intervene; Wanda could handle it all on her own. With just one look, she could tamper with someone's will, making them find a quiet place to end their own life.

In a small-town restaurant, Wanda, Sergei, and Pietro sat eating. The restaurant's TV was broadcasting the news, but the sight of it soured the twins' appetite.

Wanda and Pietro stared at the screen with cold eyes, while even Sergei frowned, remaining silent.

"Tsk, let's deal with him later," Pietro muttered, cracking his neck, his displeasure clear.

Wanda's breathing grew heavier as Tony Stark's face on the screen brought back memories of the tragedy that had struck them when she was ten years old. Both of them were clearly in a bad mood.

Just then, Wanda's phone rang. She pulled it out to answer, and Leon's voice came through the speaker.

"Wanda."

"Hey, Leon," Wanda replied softly.

"You're aware of this, right?" Wanda glanced at Pietro and Sergei across from her and said coldly, "That guy is back."

"It was me who asked Natasha to get him out," Leon replied.

Leon's words didn't unsettle Wanda. Years of trust had built between them, and she considered Leon family. She listened quietly as he explained how the Sky Fortress and the Ark Reactor were part of the deal Tony had made with him.

After everything was explained, Leon's gentle voice continued, "We all support your decision, Wanda." He paused briefly before adding, "Oh, and Pietro too."

Across from her, Pietro curled his lips, pretending not to hear.

"Leon~~," Wanda murmured, her mood lifting despite her earlier frustration about Tony still being alive. What made her even happier was that Leon continued to treat her and Pietro just like always. This was what family meant to her.

She took a deep breath and whispered, "We can let go—"

"Wanda~~," Leon interrupted, his voice serious. "Although we've never made any formal promises, I will always support you. A mere transaction doesn't mean anything. It's not worth you giving up your revenge."

"Even compared to your bad mood for a day, it's not worth it," Leon continued. "I just want to tell you, if you decide to take revenge, go ahead and do it."

"I get it, Leon," Wanda replied.

Their conversation was brief, but after hanging up, Wanda and Pietro both felt their earlier frustration ease.

"Wow, Texas food is really good," Sergei remarked, clearly more relaxed now as he shifted the subject.

Pietro cut into his steak with a knife and fork, remarking, "Well, it's a little worse than what we cook." Despite his words, he continued to eat enthusiastically.

He couldn't help it—his time spent homeless and subjected to experiments had left him with an unforgettable appreciation for food. Unless something was absolutely inedible, he always made sure to finish his meal. In fact, this was a habit the entire family shared.

"Okay, we've followed the clues to this place, but his location keeps changing. Could he be avoiding us?" Wanda asked, putting down her finished plate and pulling out a tablet from her bag, looking slightly frustrated.

The three of them had come to Texas to track down the flaming skeleton guy who rode a ghost-faced Harley. But ever since they left Houston, finding this figure hadn't been easy—their target seemed to move unpredictably with no clear route.

Additionally, most of the time, he left at night, moving so quickly that the three of them couldn't keep up in their car.

"Who knows, but this guy is seriously cool—he's so badass," Pietro commented, and even Sergei nodded in agreement.

After all, it's hard not to be impressed by a guy in black leather armor, leather pants, with a flaming skull, riding a ghost-faced Harley through the night.

Wanda rolled her eyes, clearly not sharing the boys' admiration for this strange aesthetic.

Seeing Wanda's look, Pietro quickly lowered his head and focused on his food, while Sergei coughed awkwardly and shifted to a more serious tone. "Whether he's avoiding us or not, we can't seem to analyze his route, and he moves really fast."

"He can cover several cities in a single night," Sergei added.

"This is really a problem. I don't think we'll be able to track him without flying over in my fighter jet," Wanda muttered thoughtfully, her voice lowered as she glanced around the room.

"But something feels off," she said suddenly.

"Off?" Pietro and Sergei immediately became alert. Given Wanda's unique abilities, especially her enhanced intuition, if she sensed something wrong, there was definitely a reason for concern.

Even out of caution, they knew they had to stay vigilant.

"What is it?" Pietro asked.

Wanda shook her head. "I can't tell. I feel a sense of something being off. It's as if, besides us, there's something else tracking that skeleton guy."

"Something else?" Pietro raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Wanda replied. "I don't think it's human. Plus, there seems to be another group involved, but I'm not sure who they are."

"That sounds interesting. Seems like that guy's caught the attention of a lot of people." Pietro popped the last piece of steak into his mouth, wiped his lips with a napkin, and leaned back in his chair with a look of amusement. "Looks like we've got plenty to deal with."

"So, what's the plan now?" Sergei asked, tapping the table lightly with his index finger.

"The biggest issue is if this guy is just wandering aimlessly. We won't be able to predict his next move," Pietro added, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"We don't actually need to rush," Wanda said, her eyes gleaming with a quiet confidence. "Since we can't catch him right now, we can just slow down and keep following. When the final scene is ready to play out, that's when we'll make our move."

…

In a remote Texas town, under the night sky, the bright moon illuminated the city. Yet, the entire place seemed cast in a darker tone, giving it an eerie, gloomy atmosphere. The stillness of the night was suddenly shattered by wild laughter echoing through the empty streets.

Inside an abandoned factory, a middle-aged man wearing a black leather jacket and pants writhed in agony, clutching his head. His face was twisted in pain, yet uncontrollable laughter escaped his lips. Sparks flickered across his body, corroding his flesh, as his human face shifted intermittently with that of a skull.

Finally, with a loud bang, red-hot flames erupted from his head, consuming him entirely. His body transformed into a skeleton, its hollow eyes glowing with a faint, hellish fire. He twisted his neck, glancing at the chain hanging from a steel beam above him, as if spotting the perfect weapon.

With a swift motion, he stretched out a skeletal hand, grabbing the chain and pulling it down with a crash. The chain came loose with a violent clatter, and as he swung it over his shoulder, it wrapped around his body, moving as though it had a life of its own.

Now armed, the Ghost Rider raised his glowing eyes, staring into the distance. His voice echoed like a sound from the depths of hell.

"I smell sin..."

Like a hunter locked onto its prey, the Ghost Rider approached the classic Harley parked nearby. His terrifying skeletal fingers brushed slowly over the motorcycle. As hellfire roared, the bike twisted and transformed, finally morphing into a skull-faced motorcycle that looked as if it had been forged by the devil himself.

With a single motion, he mounted the bike.

Rumble!

The engine roared to life like a wild beast. As the tires skidded against the ground, smoke and sparks filled the air. The wheels began to glow, and then ignite.

Bang!

A sonic boom reverberated as the Ghost Rider rocketed out of the factory, leaving cracked pavement and a trail of flames in his wake.

It was none other than the Ghost Rider.

His speed kept increasing as he rode down the road, one hand gripping the handlebars, the other swinging the chain. His maniacal laughter echoed through the city streets. Along the way, parked cars, street lights, and billboards melted like wax as the motorcycle blazed past. Even a stray cat evaporated in the heat, leaving behind only its charred skeleton.

The Ghost Rider tore through the city, wreaking havoc with every mile. After an unknown amount of time, he finally slowed down on a dark and deserted street. His ears pricked up, his laughter fading, for the Ghost Rider had found his prey.

These prey had strong bodies, like wild beasts, with golden hair cascading down their shoulders. Dressed in thin vests, veins bulged from their muscles, radiating a fierce and violent aura. One of them was a woman with blue skin, her emerald-green pupils glowing like a cat's eyes in the dark, giving her an eerie, ghostly appearance.

Next to her stood a young boy, his face still immature, dotted with freckles, but filled with a rebellious expression.

The leader, wearing a brown helmet, a matching cape, black armor, and boots, stood apart. His wrinkled face didn't make him seem old; instead, it exuded a unique sense of authority and dominance, especially from the sharp look in his eyes.

"Hey, that's cool. I like his outfit. Is this who we're looking for?" the young man asked, glancing at the skeleton knight, twisting his neck as if eager for a fight.

"He's the Hell-born skeleton knight that's been causing rumors across Texas lately," the blue-skinned woman said, frowning slightly. "But is he really a mutant?"

"A very interesting boy, Raven. Whether he's a mutant or not, he pleases me," the old man said softly.

These four individuals were none other than Magneto, Mystique, Sabretooth, and John, a former student of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, members of the Brotherhood of Mutants.

John had an extremely irritable and unstable personality, likely due to the influence of his abilities. He grew dissatisfied when the teachers at Xavier's School discouraged students from abusing their powers. After the Stryker incident, he met Magneto, and after speaking with him, John was captivated by Magneto's domineering attitude and his belief in mutant supremacy. This led John to run away from the school and join Magneto's Brotherhood of Mutants.

This was also the reason behind his first mission with the Brotherhood: to find and recruit a flaming skeleton to their cause. Needless to say, John, with his rebellious nature, found the flaming skeleton incredibly cool.

Magneto, along with the others, stepped forward to speak, but the skeleton knight spoke first. Sitting on his motorcycle, he pointed a skeletal finger at Magneto, and a voice that seemed to echo from the depths of hell rumbled out:

"You are guilty! Bloodstained, with innocent souls on your hands, you belong in hell."

Boom!

Before anyone could react, the Skeleton Knight tore the flaming chains from his body and snapped them towards Magneto and the others. The chains, burning with hellfire, slithered like venomous serpents toward their target.

Magneto's eyes flashed coldly.

He was Magneto, master of metal. In an instant, he activated his power, intending to control the chains. But in the next moment, his expression shifted—Magneto realized that he couldn't control them.

But the burning chain was already flying toward them.

Fortunately, Magneto had been through countless battles. Despite the unexpected situation, he activated his powers in an instant. With a swift motion, he stretched out his hand, and the billboards on both sides of the road suddenly cracked and broke apart. The chain whizzed by, but before it could strike, the fragments of the billboards shot forward, pinning the chain to the ground with precision.

Though the hellfire on the chain started to melt the billboards, it managed to delay the Skeleton Knight from retrieving the chain for a moment.

Magneto clenched his fist lightly.

Boom!

In an instant, the entire stretch of highway seemed to warp. The parked cars, street lamps, and every metal object nearby were immediately broken down into countless fine metal particles.

The particles swirled together, forming a deadly cloud. Magneto suddenly spread his fists, turning them into open palms and thrusting them downward. The metal particles transformed into a barrage of spears, roaring like a violent storm as they shot toward the Skeleton Knight.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

…

Not far away, on the rooftop of a small bungalow bathed in moonlight, three figures stood silently watching the Ghost Rider, now trapped by the metal spears on the street below. With her striking red coat and flowing hair, it was none other than the Scarlet Witch, Wanda Maximoff.

Beside her were Pietro and Sergei, keeping a vigilant watch.

"This guy only shows up at night. If we hadn't hacked the surveillance networks of several nearby cities, he'd be impossible to track," Pietro said, crossing his arms, the hem of his coat fluttering in the breeze.

Though he made it sound simple, the task had been anything but. Thankfully, Natasha had provided some remote assistance. Without her, they wouldn't have been able to hack into multiple cities' surveillance systems. The three of them simply lacked the technical expertise to pull off such a feat on their own.

Despite how easily it's depicted in movies, hacking a city's surveillance network is no small feat. The United States, famous for its "Matrix"-level monitoring systems, leads the world in network surveillance. Considerable manpower, resources, and funds have been invested in these systems for strategic purposes.

And a network security department had been established to attract the world's top experts and design a specialized firewall. But there was always a way around it—especially when you knew someone like Natasha.

Natasha didn't need to be an expert in finding vulnerabilities. Instead of attacking the system directly, she simply bypassed the firewall and found a backdoor—a network loophole. This kind of backdoor wasn't an uncommon feature in the United States, where agencies like the FBI and CIA often resorted to methods that weren't exactly legal or publicized. These "backdoors" were an unspoken agreement between certain departments, making covert access easier for those in the know.

Thanks to this, the three of them were able to locate the Skeleton Knight fairly quickly. What they didn't anticipate, however, was that Wanda's earlier feeling had been right. Magneto, the leader of the Brotherhood of Mutants, was also hunting for the Skeleton Knight, clearly drawn to him just as they were.

"By the way, this guy is a skeleton now... how are we supposed to draw blood from him?" Pietro asked with a smirk, clearly enjoying his own joke.

Wanda rolled her eyes, too tired to entertain his nonsense.

Sergei, meanwhile, focused on the scene below. The Skeleton Knight was trapped by Magneto's spears, pinned to the ground. Sergei frowned. "This guy gives me a really bad feeling. He doesn't seem like a creature from Earth."

"Is he a mutant?"

"NO," Wanda's eyes flashed red. From her perspective, she could see that the Skeleton Knight had two different souls—one human, the other from somewhere else, filled with violence.

"He's human... but also from hell."

"Hell?" Sergei asked, raising an eyebrow.

"There's a strange coincidence," Wanda continued, "between this person and the time and place Mephisto appeared."

Pietro and Sergei exchanged glances, the realization dawning on them. Pietro spoke in a low voice, "He's directly connected to Mephisto."

Indeed, when they had arrived in Texas two days ago, they had a brief encounter with Mephisto, even fighting him. And now, this Skeleton Knight had appeared in the same area. His timing and the fact that he carried a soul from hell were no mere coincidence. It all pointed to Mephisto.

Sergei rubbed his chin, thoughtful. "Mephisto still isn't giving up on Earth. Is he trying to plant a foothold here?"

"He can't come to Earth directly," Pietro said nonchalantly. "We just need to get this guy's blood."

Wanda nodded in agreement. They didn't have the luxury to worry about Mephisto's grander schemes, as long as they weren't directly affected. Whatever Mephisto planned wasn't their concern for now.

"Wait… he's fighting back," Pietro noted, raising an eyebrow.

Down below, the Skeleton Knight, pinned to the ground by Magneto's metal spears, began to stir. Blazing flames erupted from his hollow eyes, and suddenly, the fire spread along his body to the spears. In mere moments, the metal spears began to melt, the speed of the melting beyond what anyone had anticipated. Magneto's expression hardened.

Something was off about the flames.

Logically, with Magneto's control over the magnetic field, he should have been able to manipulate the metal, even in its molten state. But now, the molten metal was beyond his control. The issue had to be the fire itself, much like his earlier inability to control the chains.

"A very impressive power!" Magneto couldn't help but admire. The flames interfered with his abilities—whether this figure was a mutant or not, Magneto wanted to recruit him. The Skeleton Knight would make the perfect enforcer for his Brotherhood, a "Judgment Knight" to carry out his will.

But given how unruly the knight had been, Magneto knew he'd need to show his strength, to overwhelm the rider with sheer power and make him understand the greatness of the one he'd follow.

Boom!

Without wasting another moment, Magneto acted. Stretching his hands toward the ground, the entire city seemed to shake. The ground quaked violently, as if something monstrous was about to be unleashed.

Initially, John, the Pyro, was eager to impress. Seeing the Skeleton Knight play with fire ignited a competitive streak in him—he'd always prided himself on his own abilities and wanted to show off in front of Magneto. But the moment he saw Magneto unleash his terrifying power, the sheer force nearly suffocated him.

John had never witnessed anything like this. His face went pale in an instant.

Mystique, Magneto's oldest follower, quickly grasped what was happening. She saw the air around Magneto almost warp from the pressure he was generating and immediately understood his intentions. Without hesitation, she stepped back. The Sabretooth, just as perceptive, followed suit. But John, frozen in place, remained rooted to the spot.

Mystique chuckled and gave him a gentle reminder, "John, I think you should step back. Eric's about to show off for our new recruit."

Snapping out of his daze, John swallowed his panic and admiration, retreating to a safer distance.

The entire street's magnetic field shifted, expanding outward and even affecting the surrounding city. Magneto began to float, metal debris rising from the ground and swirling into a chaotic storm of particles. His power was immense, and he wielded it without regard for the city's safety, unleashing devastation. The night sky above was soon obscured by the torrent of metal, blocking out the moon and stars. Panic spread through the city below as people screamed and ran in terror.

Magneto couldn't care less about the frightened humans. His sole concern was the supremacy of mutants. If necessary, he would destroy the entire city to prove his point. From the sky, his deep voice echoed like that of a god, booming over the chaos below as he stared down at the Skeleton Knight.

"Surrender to me," Magneto commanded, "and I will lead you to greatness. We should not hide in the shadows of lesser humans, nor skulk in darkness like rats. We can declare our strength to the world. Join us, and this will be the wisest decision you ever make."

His words carried all the authority and domination of a god, inspiring reverence in those who followed him. Mystique, Sabretooth, and even the newly recruited Pyro looked up in awe, their eyes reflecting Magneto's grandeur. This was why they followed him: They believed in their inherent superiority, that they were born powerful, destined to rise above humanity.

But the Skeleton Knight was unmoved. He lifted his skull-like head, his hollow eyes burning with hellfire. His voice was low and hoarse as he pointed a skeletal finger at Magneto in the sky.

"You should go to hell."

Magneto's expression turned icy. "Arrogance and stupidity," he muttered, raising his right hand and pressing it down slowly.

Boom!

In an instant, the entire street's gravity shifted. A crushing force slammed into the ground, causing it to cave inward. The Skeleton Knight and his hellish motorcycle were pressed downward by the immense pressure, forcing him to his knees. He struggled to stay upright, his skeletal hands barely holding him off the ground. The hellfire in his eye sockets flickered, sometimes dimming, sometimes blazing, as he fought against the weight crushing him.

His transformation was suppressed by the overwhelming external force, and the flaming skeleton form vanished. Above Magneto, the torrent of metal particles swirled dangerously, ready to engulf the entire block at any moment, fully showcasing the power of one of the most formidable mutants.

Watching from a rooftop nearby, Wanda, Pietro, and Sergei couldn't help but be impressed.

"Holy crap, I can't handle this guy," Pietro muttered, feeling the weight of Magneto's power. His scalp tingled with unease—especially since the ability to manipulate gravity with a mere gesture seemed to directly counter his own speed.

Sergei frowned, sensing the difficulty of the situation. He glanced at Wanda. "What do you think? Do we stand a chance of stealing him away from Magneto?"

Wanda's jewel-like eyes reflected Magneto's hovering figure. After a brief moment, she responded, "It's hard to say. His power is undeniable. At this level, he's developed his ability to a terrifying degree."

"Maybe if we combine chaos magic with Pietro's speed, we might have a chance."

"Then let's do it," Pietro said, determined. "Not like we can call the boss for help, anyway."

"Calm down," Wanda said coolly. "Let's talk to him first."

She glanced down at the street, where the Skeleton Knight was no longer able to hold out. The flames in his skull had been extinguished by Magneto's power, and he had reverted to his human form. Magneto, satisfied, descended slowly as the gravity returned to normal.

Without the crushing pressure, the man lay on the ground, gasping for air, his face etched with confusion. His name was Johnathon Blaze, also known as Johnny, just an ordinary stunt driver. But a few days ago, he had begun to feel as though a second personality had taken control. At night, he would lose his flesh and blood, transforming into a flaming Skeleton Knight that roamed the city streets, passing judgment and burning the souls of the guilty.

Terrified, Johnny fled the city, attempting to escape to the wilderness. But no matter how far he went, that soul still controlled him, always driving him back. It was torture. Tonight, out of control once again, he found himself transformed, the soul of the Skeleton Knight sensing the presence of Magneto—the most wanted mutant in America.

The good news was that Magneto had the strength to suppress the cursed soul within him. The bad news was that Magneto now stood before him, intent on forcing him to become his subordinate.

With a weary sigh, Johnny struggled to his feet, glancing up at the terror-inducing figure of Magneto. "If I told you I can't control my body, would you believe me?"

Magneto nodded. "I believe you. After abilities awaken, the stronger they are, the harder they are to control. I can help you master it—quickly."

"The condition is that you let me join you."

"Good."

"But do you really think I'm a mutant? This other consciousness—it just came out of nowhere."

"I think only a mutant could explain your current situation," Magneto said, looking at Johnny with certainty. In his mind, that was the only explanation. After all, how else could an ordinary human suddenly turn into a flaming skeleton?

Johnny had no choice. The ocean of metal swirling ominously above threatened to crush him if he didn't agree. Pressed by the situation, he resigned himself to fate, hoping that Magneto could truly help him control this curse.

Just as Johnny was about to agree to join the Brotherhood, Magneto's expression froze. Mystique, standing behind him, noticed something too, while Pyro, overreacting, triggered the flame device on his wrist. Pyro's flames exploded into a monstrous fire dragon, hurtling down the street.

Boom!

The searing fire distorted the air, and its red glow illuminated the night. Johnny, eyes wide, turned to witness a jaw-dropping sight.

On a nearby rooftop, three figures leaped down from a height of over ten meters as if it was nothing. But what truly shocked Johnny was that when the fire tornado threatened to engulf them, the girl in the lead, with beautiful, slightly curly dark blond hair, calmly raised her hand. A surge of red energy enveloped the blazing inferno, and with a gentle clench of her fist, the fire tornado dissolved into harmless sparks.

Under the shimmering sparks, the three figures walked forward, unfazed. Johnny was speechless, feeling as though his life had taken yet another surreal turn. In just a few days, he had met more people with powers than he could have imagined.

Magneto, however, was thrilled. He saw the girl extinguish Pyro's flames and recognized that more mutants had appeared—young ones, too. His heart leapt with excitement. Such talent had to be brought into the Brotherhood. He couldn't let them go.

While Magneto plotted, Pyro, on the other hand, was furious. He had always prided himself on being the strongest among mutants his age, and now this girl had easily snuffed out his fire. His temper flared, and he prepared to ignite his flames once again.

But before he could act, Wanda, the girl who had extinguished his fire, turned to him. Her eyes flashed with icy coldness, and her voice rang out, sharp and clear: "Do you want to die?"

"What did you say?" Pyro barked, though his heart skipped a beat at the murderous intent in her gaze. Anger overtook fear, and he raised his hand.

Bang!

His movements stopped suddenly, as a sword pressed against his neck, drawing a thin red line. A calm voice came from beside him.

"Move, and you die."

The looming threat of death gripped Pyro, freezing him in place. The once arrogant and unruly wild child now stood frozen, subdued, like a meek lamb under the blade.

Nearby, Mystique and Sabretooth reacted immediately. Sabretooth, snarling like a wild beast, lunged at Sergei. But before he could reach him, red energy pillars of chaos magic materialized out of thin air, crossing over each other to form a cage, imprisoning the furious creature.

…

Sabretooth roared angrily and tried to tear open the cage with his claws, but unfortunately, his strength couldn't shake the chaos magic at all. Mystique, who had initially planned to join in, glanced at Wanda, the girl who had stretched out her hand to cast the magic. Their eyes met, and Mystique shrugged, understanding the situation. She stood down without further action.

"Interesting ability," Mystique muttered.

Meanwhile, Johnny Blaze was frozen in fear, shocked by how quickly the battle had ended. Across from him, Magneto was already applauding, clearly impressed. Whether it was Sergei's speed, which was too fast for the naked eye to follow, or Wanda's flawless energy manipulation, both had earned his admiration. Even though the young man standing beside Wanda hadn't acted, Magneto was certain he wasn't weak. After all, the strong do not associate with the weak—that was a principle Magneto firmly believed in.

Despite being momentarily restrained, Magneto wasn't angry. He could tell that the three before him didn't harbor any real malice. Their actions were simply to prevent further fighting. Looking at Wanda with a smile of approval, he said, "It seems today will give me some pleasant dreams."

"Are you mutants as well?" Magneto asked.

"Not sure," Wanda replied with a slight shake of her head. She and Pietro had often wondered whether they were mutants because of their special abilities. But to Leon and others, it never mattered. Whether they were mutants or not, they were family, and that was what counted. As a result, Wanda and Pietro had never dwelled on the question.

As for Wanda's chaos magic, Leon had once explained that it came from a very ancient and powerful being. However, he hadn't revealed who or what that being was, only assuring them that it wasn't a problem. If any issues arose, Leon had promised he would deal with them in due time.

Magneto, interpreting Wanda's response in his own way, assumed the three were indeed mutants. His mood brightened further, pleased at the thought of his growing mutant family. With a newfound sense of warmth, he addressed them in a gentle tone, almost like an affectionate uncle.

"What are your names?" he asked.

"Wanda."

"Pietro."

"Sergei."

"Alright then, Wanda," Magneto began, his tone passionate. "You must have heard what I said earlier. We are born to be united. Together, we will become the new humans and rule this world." He was trying to use his charisma and persuasive words to win over the three "juniors" with such remarkable abilities.

However, Wanda and Pietro exchanged a glance, their expressions slightly awkward. Pietro shrugged and said, "Well, Mr. Eric, we respect your beliefs and won't interfere with them, but we already have a family and are happy with our current lives. So, I don't see a reason to join your Brotherhood."

Pietro's straightforward response caused Magneto to pause, his high spirits dampened. Had he really failed? He thought to himself: Are young people this hard to sway these days? This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Frowning, Magneto looked at the twins and lowered his voice. "Then why did you appear before me? If you're not here to stop me from destroying the city, that seems... absurd."

"Not at all," Wanda replied without hesitation. She gestured toward Johnny Blaze. "We're only here to collect a bit of this gentleman's blood."

"Blood?" Magneto's and Mystique's expressions changed instantly. Suspicion filled their minds. If Johnny was also a mutant, why did they need his blood? Was it for some sort of experiment?

Both Magneto and Mystique had experienced the horrors of cruel experiments conducted on mutants in the past. That history was one of the reasons they had founded the Brotherhood—to overthrow the human governments that enabled such atrocities. As these dark thoughts surfaced, Magneto's once-pleased expression turned grim.

Boom!

The metal storm swirling above began to grow more turbulent, reflecting Magneto's darkening mood. The sudden shift caused renewed panic in the city, with citizens screaming in fear. From distant streets, the wailing of sirens echoed as the authorities responded to the chaos.

Yet, neither Wanda nor Magneto paid the commotion any mind. Their gazes were locked. Magneto stared at Wanda's delicate face, his voice tense. "Why do you need his blood?"

"I don't know," Wanda answered without hesitation, "but he needs it."

He? The flames of Magneto's suspicion and anger flared even higher. He began to believe that Wanda was being manipulated—perhaps by some scheming figure, possibly from the human government, to turn against her own kind. Suppressing his growing rage, Magneto spoke softly, "Can you tell me who he is? Is he with the government? Why does he need the blood? Is it for experiments?"

A torrent of questions followed, one after another.

Wanda remained calm. She thought for a moment before replying, "He is my family, the foundation of this entire family. I can assure you, Mr. Eric, we mean no harm to mutants."

"I want to believe you," Magneto said seriously, "but if I don't get a clear answer, I won't let you take the blood of any mutant. My child, I've seen too many horrors. Every time I think of it, it's a nightmare. And every time I wake from it, I want to send all those damned monsters to hell."

Johnny was slightly moved. For all of Magneto's strength and dominance, he clearly had a soft spot for protecting his own. Wanda and Pietro also felt a flicker of empathy. They too had been part of that world once, before Leon had changed their fates at the base.

As the sound of sirens grew louder in the distance, Wanda spoke softly, "Mr. Eric, I think you still remember the incident with Stryker and his experiments at the base, don't you?"

At the mention of Stryker, Magneto stiffened. Then, realization dawned on him. "You were involved in that?"

"Yes," Wanda confirmed. "Pietro, Sergei, and I all went through what you described. That's why we hate them as well."

As she spoke, Wanda walked toward Johnny, taking a syringe from her waist. When Johnny looked hesitant, she smiled softly before gently injecting it into his arm. Magneto watched with a conflicted expression, frowning, torn between his instincts, but ultimately deciding not to intervene.

...

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