Several terrorists rushed toward the iron gate, alarmed by the metallic noises coming from deep within the cave. The echo of their boots bounced off the narrow stone corridors, mixing with the nervous clatter of weapons being cocked.
"Check what's going on! Now!"
One of them shouted in Arabic, sweat dripping down his face as he approached the heavy locked door.
The men exchanged brief, uneasy glances before one of them, with a decisive motion, pulled the lever of the lock.
BOOM!
A deafening explosion swallowed the corridor in a wave of fire and shrapnel. The blast shook the ground beneath them, and the two men closest to the door were torn apart before they could even scream. Fragments of iron and bursts of flame illuminated the entrance for an instant — like a glimpse straight into hell.
As the smoke began to clear, a figure emerged from the shadows — towering, covered in uneven metal plates, forged by pure ingenuity.
Tony stood tall, clad in the Mark I. The mechanical eyes glowed in the darkness, reflecting against the stone walls, and beneath the soot-streaked helmet, a confident grin spread across his face.
"Yinsen, Arthur," he said, his voice distorted through the helmet's speaker, "follow me!"
Arthur didn't need to be told twice. A wild grin crossed his face.
The heavy thuds of the armor echoed through the cavern like thunder rolling through a mountain.
The terrorists froze — confusion and terror flooding their expressions. The thing before them looked like a creature from another world. That single moment of hesitation sealed their fate.
Tony charged forward.
The first strike was a punch. Simple. Direct. Brutal.
The impact shattered bones and hurled the man against the wall, leaving a crimson stain.
The second blow crushed another into the ground — the sound of metal against flesh ringing like a funeral bell.
Chaos erupted. Screams, gunfire, dust, and steel collided into a violent storm.
"Well, well… you sons of bitches," Arthur growled, tightening his grip on Yinsen's improvised sword. "Let's dance~."
Without hesitation, he dashed into battle.
Bullets screamed through the air — sharp, deadly zings that tore through the smoke — but Arthur didn't flinch. His movements blurred like a blood-soaked mirage, every step measured, every slash deliberate.
The first enemy's chest split open before he even realized what had happened.
The second lost an arm.
The third didn't have time to scream before his head fell to the ground.
Then—
"Tony! Behind you!" Yinsen yelled, voice thick with panic.
Tony turned, his armor groaning, and swung his left arm in a heavy arc.
THUD!
The blow crushed the attacker against the rock wall, knocking him out cold before he hit the ground.
Meanwhile, Arthur pressed forward, cutting down anyone foolish enough to stand in his path.
Clang! Clang! Clang! — the metallic rhythm echoed as he weaved through bullets like he could see their paths before they were fired, slicing some mid-air, dodging others. His sword gleamed under the flickering glow of the flames.
Beads of sweat ran down his face, but his eyes stayed cold. Empty.
Every breath calculated, every strike surgical.
"Ryūkansen Kogarashi…" he murmured.
A short side step.
A 90-degree spin.
An upward slash.
The world slowed.
Three enemies froze — then fell apart, collapsing like puppets with their strings cut, their bodies shredded before the sound of the strike even reached their ears.
Arthur looked up.
In front of him, a bald man trembled, trying to crawl away. His eyes were wide, filled with primal fear.
Arthur walked toward him silently, each step soft, deliberate — drowned only by the crackle of fire and dying groans around them.
Shunk! — a clean, effortless motion.
The blade sliced through the air.
A dull thud followed as the man's head hit the ground.
Arthur wiped the blade on the dead man's robe and turned toward the depths of the cave.
Tony and Yinsen were still alive — exhausted, covered in sweat, but alive.
The Mark I hissed and sparked, smoke rising from its joints, yet Tony stood unyielding.
---
Gunfire echoed through the cavern like thunder in a narrow valley.
Dozens of terrorists, driven by desperation, turned their rifles toward Yinsen and opened fire without hesitation.
RATATATATATA!
The bursts ricocheted off the stone walls, sparks scattering everywhere.
"Get down!" Tony shouted, his voice muffled by the Mark I's helmet. His heart pounded — time itself seemed to slow.
Too late.
He could only watch helplessly as the muzzle flashes illuminated Yinsen's terrified face.
And then — something sliced through the air.
A metallic flash shimmered between them.
A figure appeared in front of Yinsen, moving faster than the human eye could track.
Clang! Clang! Clang! — steel struck steel again and again as a sword deflected every bullet.
Sparks danced like fireflies in the smoke.
"...What the hell...?" Tony muttered, stunned.
The battlefield froze. Even the gunfire ceased. The silence that followed was almost supernatural — as if the desert itself was holding its breath.
Yinsen, dazed and trembling, stammered,
"Arthur…?"
He could hardly believe it. Arthur's arms moved so fast they left afterimages — ghostly trails of silver light.
Arthur didn't answer. His eyes were calm, cold. Without a word, he twisted his wrist and charged forward.
"Fire! Fire! Kill that monster!"
One terrorist's shout broke the silence.
Panic erupted again.
Dozens of guns roared, but Arthur was already gone — a blur among the flashes.
He dodged every bullet with impossible precision, deflecting some with quick, precise cuts, weaving through others as if he could predict their paths.
The clash of steel, the screams, the chaos — it became a deadly symphony.
A terrified terrorist raised a heavy machine gun.
"I'll end him!"
He pulled the trigger — but before the gun could even fire, a silver flash streaked through the air.
Shrrrak!
The weapon split in half. The man blinked, staring dumbly at the remains in his hands.
Then he looked up.
Arthur stood before him — his expression empty, emotionless. The gaze of a Reaper.
For a split second, the man tried to scream… but no sound came out.
His world spun. He saw the floor. The sky. Then his own headless body collapsing.
Silence.
Then — more screams.
"Use the rocket launchers!!"
"No! Please! Don't kill me! I'm begging you!"
But pleas meant nothing now.
Arthur was an unstoppable force. Every movement a death sentence, every breath a promise of blood.
The ground was littered with bodies, the walls painted red.
The smell of gunpowder and burnt iron hung heavy in the air.
In less than a minute, half the terrorists were dead. The rest began to flee in blind panic.
Arthur twirled his sword, letting the blood drip from the edge, then looked back over his shoulder.
"Tony, Yinsen… get out first. I still have a few things to take care of. These guys made my stay... far too entertaining."
'And I need to figure out how they found me in the first place...' Arthur thought, frowning.
Tony hesitated. Even inside the armor, a chill ran down his spine.
But something in Arthur's eyes — that cold, unbreakable resolve — told him not to argue.
"Alright," Tony said firmly.
Arthur smirked faintly.
"Oh, and don't worry, Stark… I'll make sure this whole place goes up in flames."
---
Moments later, a series of explosions tore through the desert.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Flames erupted skyward, devouring the entire camp. The shockwaves sent sand and debris flying, lighting the night in a hellish orange glow.
When the dust settled, Arthur walked out of the ruins — calm, unhurried.
His sword rested on his shoulder.
Behind him, the terrorist camp was nothing but a smoking crater.
'In the end, they didn't have anything useful…' Arthur thought.
They must've found him by chance — or maybe someone who knew about his situation had helped them.
It didn't take long for him to find Tony and Yinsen up ahead. Both were exhausted, drenched in sweat and sand.
Together, they trekked across the desert.
The sun blazed mercilessly, and soon Tony and Yinsen began to show signs of heat exhaustion and dehydration.
Arthur, however, was unfazed. His steps were steady, his breathing even. He could've walked for days without food or water.
Time crawled by. The wind whipped across the dunes, stinging their skin with grains of sand.
Then, in the distance, a sound began to rise.
Faint at first — then unmistakable.
Thump-thump-thump-thump!
The rhythmic beat of helicopter blades echoed through the sky.
Tony lifted his head, squinting against the sun.
A U.S. military helicopter was descending. For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating — but no, it was real.
His nightmare was finally over.
The aircraft touched down in a storm of sand. A man in military uniform jumped out.
It was James Rhodes.
"Who are they?" Rhodes asked after talking to Tony, raising an eyebrow at Arthur and Yinsen.
Arthur's clothes were spattered with dried blood, and his distant stare did little to reassure.
But Tony just smiled wearily.
"They're my saviors. And Rhodes… you're not going to interrogate me out here in the desert, are you?"
Rhodes blinked, caught off guard, then nodded.
"...Right. Sorry."
He still had a hundred questions — but he knew now wasn't the time.
Soon, the trio boarded the helicopter.
It lifted off, leaving behind the desert and the burning ruins of hell they had escaped.
Hours later, in a nearby city, Tony boarded his private jet with Yinsen and Arthur.
As the plane climbed into the sky, the horizon stretched out before them — and for the first time in a long while, they felt at peace.
New York awaited.
---
[End of Flashback no Jutsu]
(End of Chapter)
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain me, try to throw those pathetic power stones at me. Let's see if even your insolence can amuse a king."