Xialing's gaze drifted from the arena, her rigid posture easing for just a moment. The anger in her face softened. "Originally," she said, her voice quieter, "I wanted to use the Dragon Balls to resurrect Mother. Then I would bring her to Father."
A flicker of that old, desperate need for approval crossed her features. "It would have shocked him. Made him stop underestimating me, stop dismissing me."
Her hands clenched, and the hardness returned. "But since my plan failed, I can only ask him to do it himself. From what I understand, he's been searching for ways to resurrect Mother for years."
She turned, looking directly at Shang Chi. "Don't you want to bring Mother back?"
Shang Chi's head dropped at the mention of their mother. He stared at the stone floor, his memory flashing back to a time when their family of four had been happy. When their father had abandoned the Ten Rings for her, given up the life of violence and killing.
"I want to," he whispered. "But... I'm afraid of Father."
Xialing rolled her eyes, the brief moment of vulnerability gone. "Who made you such a failure? If you could defeat Selene, if you were strong enough to reach the finals and beat Iron Man, we wouldn't need Father at all. He'd never even have to know about the Dragon Balls."
Shang Chi had no defense against the accusation. He knew he wasn't strong enough. He couldn't meet her gaze.
"I understand," he mumbled, accepting the verbal blow. "We'll find Father together. Whatever beating or punishment he gives me... I'll accept it."
Looking at her brother's defeated posture, Xialing felt a fresh wave of fury rise in her chest. What a complete waste.
When Sean had first told her that Shang Chi worked as a parking valet, her worldview had shattered. If it had been at a Continental Hotel, she could have accepted it. That would be strategic, a position for gathering intelligence.
But an ordinary hotel? Not even a five-star? Xialing was genuinely, deeply disappointed in her brother.
The hour of tense waiting passed quickly.
Smith reappeared in the center of the arena, his voice amplified by a microphone, echoing across the stands. "Dear guests, the finals are about to begin! Please welcome Iron Man, Tony Stark, and the Death Dealer, Vampire Elder Selene!"
Tony's repulsors flared with a bright blue light. He launched skyward from the stands, arced over the arena, and executed a perfect three-point superhero landing. The impact sent a heavy thud through the platform, cracking several of the large stone tiles.
Smith looked at the damage, his expression dry. "Tony, remember to have Pepper compensate us for the venue repairs."
Tony stood, his suit whirring as he straightened up, brushing nonexistent dust from his armor. "I was testing the construction quality for you. Looks like they cut corners. You're welcome."
As Tony postured, Selene appeared at the arena's opposite end. She didn't fly. She simply arrived, moving like a ghost, a blur of afterimages trailing behind her superhuman movement.
Both entrances drew enthusiastic applause and cheers from the viewing stands.
Tony turned his helmeted head toward Selene. "Beautiful lady, why not surrender? You're outmatched anyway. Save yourself the injury."
His faceplate retracted, revealing his charming, confident smile. "We could get drinks before sunrise instead. Get to know each other properly."
Selene's expression remained cold, unimpressed. "You probably haven't restocked ammunition on this isolatedisland. I wonder how much you have left from our fight earlier."
Tony's smile faltered for just an instant at her accurate assessment. He recovered quickly. "You're still no match. Anyone I defeat once never catches up to me."
Smith interrupted before the verbal sparring could continue. "This final is a ring-out battle. Leaving the arena means loss. If you are unable to stand for more than ten seconds, you lose. Surrender is permitted. If there's mortal danger, I will intervene immediately."
Tony's faceplate was still open. "Smith, that's unfair. What if I fly out of bounds? That's not 'leaving the arena'."
"If you are airborne, you are not considered out," Smith clarified. "However, to prevent excessive distance, if you fly beyond the spectator area, you have three seconds to return or you will forfeit automatically."
Tony smiled at the compromise. That was all he needed. He could still leverage his flight superiority. His faceplate sealed with a hiss.
"Contestants, ready."
Smith's voice rang across the arena. "The match begins now!"
Smith cleared the fighting area, leaping back. The instant he finished speaking, Selene charged. She didn't run, she exploded, crossing the distance to Tony in a blinding blur of speed.
Tony didn't attack or defend. He engaged vertical thrust at Mach 1, launching straight up with a sound like a sonic boom.
Selene reached his starting position and found only empty air and the smell of ozone. She skidded to a stop, crouched low, and coiled her enhanced muscles. Then, she exploded upward.
"Don't think you can run!" she yelled.
Selene's jump carried her impossibly high. Her forward speed translated directly into vertical momentum, propelling her dozens of feet into the air, far higher than any human could ever leap.
But Tony's altitude exceeded her maximum range. She peaked, hanging in the air for a split second, and then began to fall.
Tony had tensed when she first jumped, surprised by the sheer height she'd achieved. When gravity reclaimed her, he laughed. He pivoted mid-air, aiming both palms downward.
Concentrated blue repulsor blasts caught Selene while she was helpless in mid-fall. The beams hammered into her, driving her back to the arena floor with crushing force.
She hit the stone tiles hard but rolled with the impact, coming up immediately onto one knee. She looked skyward, wiping a trickle of blood from her lip.
"Looks like your ammunition ran out in the preliminaries."
Selene's jump had been a test. A gamble. If Tony still had missiles or bombs, he could have carpet-bombed the entire arena. She'd have faced an impossible choice: take the explosion and likely die, or dodge out of bounds and lose. Without flight capability, the shockwaves alone would have blasted her from the ring.
But Tony had used repulsors. Weapons for crowd control, for pushing, not for serious combat. His heavy ordnance was depleted.
Tony's expression hardened behind his faceplate. She was right. He'd burned through everything during the preliminaries. And the island's remote location made resupply completely impossible.
"JARVIS, time until sunrise?" he murmured.
"Sir, given our current geographical coordinates, sunrise occurs in approximately one hour."
One hour.
Tony hovered high above the arena. His strategy crystallized instantly.
"Don't blame me for being ruthless," he broadcast over his external speakers. "I'm simply exploiting your racial weakness."
During the one-hour intermission, Tony had noticed the vampire viewing section had a retractable black canopy. He'd asked a nearby staff member about it and learned, just as legend suggested, of the vampires' lethal vulnerability to sunlight. The idea had formed immediately.
This was a Dragon Ball competition. Exploiting an opponent's core weakness wasn't dishonorable. His moral bottom line had always been flexible when something important was on the line.
He just needed to survive. He just needed to stall for one hour.
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