Guided by five undying sand soldiers, Tony Stark and Isamu crept out of the cave with their nerves stretched taut.
They feared that the moment they stepped outside, a forest of gun barrels would greet them and shred them in an instant.
They crossed the threshold and saw exactly what they least wanted to see.
A dozen terrorists aimed their rifles straight at them, ready to execute.
One sand soldier nodded to his companions.
All five shifted into battle stance.
They shaped shields from sand, then spears.
These standard armaments marked them not as common sand shades, but as the Desert Emperor's imperial guard.
The terrorists had never seen such creatures. Their ignorance did not stop them from firing.
There was no need for orders. Already spooked by the sand-made monsters, they pulled their triggers without hesitation.
Bullets swarmed like angry hornets toward the soldiers.
But the soldiers were far more terrifying than expected.
Their shields were sand in form yet stronger than any known riot shield on earth.
Perhaps only Captain America's shield could compare.
With desert magic woven through, these barriers could even blunt armor-piercing rounds meant for tanks, let alone common bullets.
Tall as their bearers, the shields covered nearly every angle.
A dense hail clattered against them with bright metallic CLANG! CLANG!, while Isamu, protected in the midst, murmured to Tony, "Do not worry. The sand soldiers will keep us safe."
Tony's mouth twitched, but he said nothing. All he could do was hope these uncanny guardians were as reliable as Isamu claimed.
After absorbing the first volley, the soldiers counterattacked.
SWOOSH!
A spear left a sand soldier's hand and struck a terrorist dead center.
The man flew backward and was pinned to the cliff wall.
A breath later, the spear that had pierced his chest unraveled into sand and fell to the ground.
The corpse slid free and crumpled.
That was only the beginning.
The soldiers repeated the technique, conjuring spear after spear without end, felling those mortals who dared raise arms against the Empire.
At last, the survivors broke.
Their bullets did nothing to the shields, while their comrades died one by one.
Worst of all, none could tell who would be next.
They wavered, then scattered, unity collapsing into chaos as they shot and retreated in panic.
The sand soldiers did not press the advantage. Their mission had always been a single purpose.
Escort Isamu back to Shurima.
Watching the routed gunmen, Tony breathed out, elated. "Isamu, looks like we are saved."
"Yes, we are saved."
Isamu's voice shook with joy.
After what he had witnessed, his sense of belonging to the unseen Empire only deepened.
Elsewhere, the leader who had finished his report and left the basement met underlings sprinting toward him in a panic.
"Boss, bad news. Demons have invaded the camp. They are trying to take the two prisoners."
Cold sweat beaded on his brow.
Damn it. Those idiots had better not have killed the doctor.
His voice trembled. "The two prisoners, are they safe?"
"They are fine. He and Stark are together, guarded by those ancient warriors."
Relief loosened the leader's chest.
"Let them go, then move the base," he ordered at once.
He could only cut off a limb to save the body.
A head-on fight?
Do not be ridiculous. The last fool who tried that had grass three feet high over his grave.
Knowing they could not linger, he planned the retreat in a flash.
So long as he lived and still served the Mandarin, he could start again.
As for conquering the world with Tony Stark's weapons?
Get real. At most they could unify the surrounding region, and only if that mighty Empire did not intervene.
Boasting about ruling the world in front of the men was just swagger. Empty words.