For General Ross, the situation had spiraled completely out of control.
Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that an ordinary-looking human could wield such terrifying power.
And without question, his own reckless actions had provoked this monster.
Every single car stranded along the district was rising from the ground, reshaping into mechanical lifeforms.
This time, however—
Senju Haruto had only used the AllSpark's power to awaken the vehicles. He hadn't bothered to affect the soldiers' weapons.
Not because he couldn't—
But because he didn't care to.
In the face of absolute strength, tactics and tricks were meaningless.
Just these mechanical warriors alone were enough to crush Ross's entire force.
Why bother stripping his soldiers bare, leaving them helpless and unarmed?
Too much of a stomp, and it wouldn't even be fun.
Beside them, Stark stood frozen, staring in shock.
He had seen Haruto's power before and had braced himself for surprises.
But still—
The scene before his eyes shook him to the core.
He sucked in a sharp breath, his gaze instinctively shifting to Haruto's calm profile.
How terrifying was this man's true strength?
Back when Haruto had transformed guns, they had only become meter-tall machines. Numerous, yes, but still manageable.
With his Mark II armor, Stark had been confident he could handle them.
But this was something else entirely.
Forget Optimus Prime—
Even the smallest of these new machines stood four to five meters tall, their massive frames bristling with heavy weapons.
And they weren't moving chaotically.
They advanced in perfect formation, disciplined and trained.
This was no rabble.
This was…
A true tide of steel.
Haruto stood calm, almost admiring the advance of his iron soldiers.
Though these Autobots were all warriors of the righteous faction, here they followed only his command.
And to Haruto, this one ability alone was enough to let him walk unchallenged across the Marvel universe.
Yet this…
Was only one of many cards up his sleeve.
Ross's men scrambled to reform their lines, trying desperately to halt the steel tide.
But their firepower wasn't even in the same league.
Deafening booms ripped through the street as shells rained down, tearing through soldiers in clouds of dirt, flame, and screams.
Mushrooming fireballs lit the sky.
Even the iron-willed Ross had never seen anything like this.
His mind kept replaying Haruto's words.
And Fury's warning.
You know nothing of war.
Ross had thought Haruto's trump card was just Optimus—some stolen technological marvel.
Never had he dreamed his true power was this: to turn every car into a living engine of war.
It shattered his understanding of science, of warfare, of reality itself.
He stood dumbfounded, unable to think, unable to command.
Should he order an attack?
But how could his men fight this? Where were the weak points?
Should he order a retreat?
But who would clean up this mess then?
No answers came.
Until—
A tug on his arm snapped him back to the present.
He turned, finding a soldier with terror etched across his young face.
"General Ross, sir—you must leave, now!"
The man's voice trembled, but his conviction was clear.
He didn't know how to fix this disaster.
But he knew one thing: Ross must not die here.
"Ah… mm…"
Ross's chest tightened with conflicting emotions.
For once, the Thunderbolt himself felt powerless, swept along.
He didn't nod. He didn't speak.
But hands were shoving him, dragging him, pulling his body into motion.
Step by step, his feet moved, following the soldiers in retreat.
A dozen men rushed together, forming a human wall, their eyes darting across the battlefield as they shielded their general toward an armored vehicle.
But then—
The vehicle they were counting on began to rumble.
The front section rose, splitting into arms and hands. The cab folded down, forming a mechanical head.
The rear transformed into legs.
In seconds, the armored car had become a towering Autobot over six meters tall, blocking their path.
Ross didn't even have time to cry out before the mech's fist clenched and slammed into the ground.
Boom!
The earth-shaking impact blasted a shockwave outward like rippling water.
The human wall shattered like paper, soldiers hurled into the air.
Some never moved again, their limbs torn apart.
Ross, though shielded at the center, fared no better.
The blast caught him, lifting his aging body several meters high before he crashed down hard.
Agony ripped through his chest, his organs feeling as though they had burst.
"Cough—cough!"
He rolled, spitting blood.
White teeth and bits of flesh scattered red across the pavement.
His vision swam, ears ringing.
The battlefield seemed both far away and unbearably close, unreal in its brutality.
I'm Thunderbolt Ross…
My men are the best the army has to offer…
Never, in decades of command, have I lost so utterly.
It was a massacre.
His soldiers fell like wheat under the scythe, row upon row.
Butchered without resistance.
And worse—
The very weapons they trusted, their armored war machines, were turning against them, reshaping into merciless mechanical foes.
Boom!
Cannons roared, fire consuming all.
For the first time in his life, General Ross felt true helplessness.
Not even when hunting the Hulk had he felt this powerless.
I'm going to die here.
My men will all die as martyrs.
His helplessness gave way to despair.
He couldn't think of rallying, of retreat.
He could hardly even feel his body anymore.
His sight blurred, the world spinning.
His eyelids grew heavy. His limbs cold.
How easy it would be to just let sleep take him…
But suddenly—
Just as darkness threatened to swallow him, a powerful hand seized his arm and dragged him upright.
"Now's not the time to sleep."
A voice—familiar, commanding—rang in his ears.
Ross turned, dazed.
It was none other than the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.—
Nick Fury.
But why… why would he be the one to save me?
...
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