Compared to Chen Mo's one-of-a-kind shield forged from original Adamantium, ordinary Adamantium was only slightly inferior in terms of hardness and durability.
Its sole shortcoming lay in one missing property — unlike the original alloy, true Adamantium couldn't absorb kinetic energy or neutralize all force. It couldn't, like in those Avengers movies, stop Thor's hammer dead in its tracks without the slightest tremor.
If struck by an overwhelmingly powerful blow, the alloy itself would hold, but the impact's energy would transfer straight through it — sending the person behind the shield flying or even injuring them from the shockwave.
Even so, its defense was already unmatched. On the battlefield, nothing short of a direct artillery blast could pose a threat. Even close-range explosions or shells would barely scratch a super-soldier protected by Adamantium armor.
"Doctor," Chen Mo said, glancing toward the man still muttering about tank calibers, "we've seen how well the alloy holds up defensively — indestructible, really. Shouldn't we test its offensive potential next?"
Dr. MacLain blinked in surprise.
"Offensive? Why, if you've got enough strength, you could throw this shield and blow up a tank!"
Chen Mo and Howard exchanged a helpless look. The man was hopelessly obsessed. If they didn't stop him, he'd probably melt down every last bit of vibranium they owned and turn it into wall décor.
"My circular design," the doctor continued, "is the pinnacle of aerodynamic efficiency. It moves through air with minimal drag, maintaining a perfectly stable trajectory.
This Adamantium shield, with its hardness, elasticity, and concentric rigidity, makes the perfect throwing weapon. Upon striking a solid surface, it loses almost no angular momentum.
With proper training, the user can throw it to pierce targets, or make it rebound from multiple points and return right back to the hand!"
Listening to him ramble on, Chen Mo's temples throbbed. He was now convinced — MacLain really would make every alloy on Earth into a shield if left unchecked.
He imagined an entire squad of special-forces soldiers charging into battle shoulder to shoulder, each wielding a round shield…
He shuddered. No. This madness must end.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Howard rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses. Chen Mo reached into his coat. Slowly, deliberately, he drew something out.
A flash of cold light gleamed across the room — a long, double-edged knight's sword.
Both MacLain and Howard froze, transfixed by the blade's brilliance.
"Wait a second," Howard blurted out. "Isn't that the weird sword you seized from that Hydra base? Where did you even pull that from?"
"From my body," Chen Mo replied blandly.
Howard gawked. "That's impossible! I've been with you all day — you never had a sword on you that long!"
"It's called the Hidden Sword Technique," Chen Mo said with the calm confidence of a seasoned con artist. "You wouldn't understand."
"Another one of those mystical Chinese kung-fu tricks, huh?" Howard muttered to himself. Then he looked up — and his face went pale. Chen Mo, sword in hand, was walking straight toward the doctor.
Memories flashed through Howard's mind: Chen Mo chasing him around, sword raised, whenever he said something irritating. Panic surged. He leapt between them.
"Hey, take it easy! The doctor might be a little eccentric, but that's no reason to cut him down!"
He reached for the hilt. "Come on, give me the sword. Let's talk this out."
The moment his fingers brushed the grip, a surge of power slammed into him. Chen Mo's foot shot out, sending him flying backward.
Howard hit the ground, sunglasses shattered, one black eye glaring in wounded outrage. Chen Mo ignored him completely and extended the sword toward Dr. MacLain.
From the instant Chen Mo had unsheathed it, the scientist's eyes hadn't left the weapon. The moment he grasped it, his arms sagged under the unexpected weight — it was far heavier than steel — and his pulse quickened.
A lifetime of studying metals told him instantly: this was no ordinary alloy.
He turned the sword over, examining the craftsmanship — the blade lines, the balance, the cross-guard, the engraved patterns. The longer he studied, the wider his eyes grew. His face flushed red with excitement; his hands trembled slightly.
"This… could it be that sword?" he whispered, looking up at Chen Mo with breathless expectation.
Chen Mo nodded.
The doctor drew in a sharp breath. He tapped the blade, then struck it lightly against a steel support beam. Finally, without warning, he turned, hefted the sword in both hands, and swung at the nearby testing machine gun.
The steel barrel parted like warm butter.
The blade met no resistance — and made almost no sound.
Clang!
The severed gun barrel dropped to the floor, its cross-section smooth as a mirror.
"There's no doubt," MacLain gasped, his voice trembling. "This is the legendary Sword of Kings!"
He clutched the blade reverently, nearly trembling with awe.
Howard, meanwhile, fumed with envy and sidled up beside Chen Mo.
"How come he gets to touch it but I don't?"
Ever since Chen Mo had claimed the sword as "war spoils" from Hydra, Howard had been dying to study it. He'd seen it slice through tanks and armor like paper. And every time he asked to examine it, Chen Mo refused — sometimes even drawing the blade just to make him back off.
He'd nearly had a heart attack once when the sword's icy edge brushed past his neck, slicing his tie clean off.
Now he glared resentfully. "You stole my shield, and you won't even let me look at your sword?"
Chen Mo smirked. "Can you forge Adamantium?"
Howard scowled. "…"
"Can you identify the origin of this sword with one glance?"
"…No, but—"
"Then hush."
Out-argued yet again, Howard threw up his hands and turned to the doctor instead.
"Fine, Doctor, you tell me — you recognize this thing?"
MacLain nodded gravely. "If I'm not mistaken, this sword is none other than Excalibur — the final weapon of King Arthur himself, the Sword of Kings."
As a lifelong scholar of medieval arms, MacLain knew his lore. He was ninety percent certain — the craftsmanship, the aura, everything fit the ancient descriptions.
Howard's eyes gleamed greedily. He opened his mouth, but the killing intent radiating from Chen Mo's gaze made him wisely shut it again.
Chen Mo smiled faintly and turned back to the scientist.
"Doctor, tell me — what do you think about forging another Sword of Kings, this time out of Adamantium?"
MacLain's eyes lit up instantly.