When President Ellis heard Lucas Reed's words, he froze.
Since when had anyone dared to provoke him face to face—the leader of the world's sole superpower?
Even the Soviet union, when it was still a superpower, had never dared to act with such blatant arrogance.
"Do you even understand what you're saying?"
Ellis said in a deep voice.
"You are provoking the most powerful nation on this planet!"
The commanding aura of a American president erupted instantly.
Lucas, however, remained calm.
His body slowly rose into the air.
"So what if it's the strongest nation?"
As his words fell, translucent waves of energy surged from his body, subtly distorting the surrounding air.
An overwhelming pressure flooded the area.
Everyone present felt the atmosphere grow heavy, their breathing becoming labored.
"Or is it, President Ellis,"
Lucas continued coldly,
"that you intend to represent America and declare war on me?"
His voice was calm—but it struck straight into the heart.
Ellis swallowed unconsciously.
Still, he refused to believe that a single individual could stand against the most powerful collective on Earth.
According to the think tank's analysis, the man before him was indeed terrifyingly strong.
But even so, in the eyes of military advisers, Lucas' demonstrated combat power was roughly equivalent to a mechanized corps.
Paying a price, they could still eliminate him.
Compared to the benefits that alien spacecraft could bring, those losses were negligible.
But Nick Fury knew better.
A man who could withstand plasma cannons and high-energy electromagnetic weapons was not something a mechanized corps could deal with.
If things truly escalated, it would be a world-class disaster.
"Hey—how about we all calm down a little?"
Fury stepped forward, knowing it was time for him to intervene.
At that moment, Lucas suddenly smiled.
"Mr. President, do you believe that very soon… you'll be the one making concessions to me?"
"What did you say?"
Ellis frowned.
"That's impossible. We will never yield to someone like you—a terrorist—"
Before he could finish, the phone in his pocket vibrated.
"This is Ellis."
As he listened, his expression darkened by the second.
After hanging up, he glared angrily at Lucas in the air.
"No need to look at me like that, Mr. President."
Lucas smiled meaningfully.
"When a leader drags his team toward the abyss, he has already ceased to be a qualified leader."
"And perhaps very soon, your own people will be the ones to push you down."
Ellis was furious and about to retort—
when his phone rang again.
"I'm Ellis!"
His tone was sharp, but soon he could only suppress his anger.
"I understand. I said I understand. I know what needs to be done."
He hung up and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.
The first call had come from Congress.
Their representatives spoke with veiled threats, advising him not to offend Lucas Reed.
Normally, the presidency and Congress restrained one another.
But Congress stood atop powerful capital consortiums—
groups fully capable of influencing presidential elections.
Antagonizing them would spell trouble for his re-election.
The second call came from his own backers.
This time, the warning was explicit:
do not escalate conflict with Lucas Reed.
"You're very clever,"
Ellis said coldly, narrowing his eyes.
"You know how to borrow momentum."
He wasn't stupid.
This situation proved that Lucas' reach had already extended into the core of American power.
Nick Fury understood as well—and silently raised Lucas' threat level by two more tiers.
A lion or tiger with great strength was not terrifying.
With enough people or the right tools, it could be subdued.
But a beast that understood power, leverage, and forced you into a duel on its own terms?
That was truly terrifying.
"You flatter me."
Lucas withdrew his aura and gently descended to the ground.
"Lucas,"
Fury said, trying to ease the atmosphere,
"perhaps we should go inside? Standing out here doesn't quite match your hospitality."
At that moment, the thumping of helicopter blades echoed through the sky.
A helicopter rapidly approached and landed on an open patch of ground.
Three figures disembarked.
"Well, well—looks like we're not late after all!"
A teasing voice rang out.
"Tony, I told you at least three times yesterday that today was important. And you still drank that much!"
The man beside him complained helplessly.
Soon, the three figures reached the lawn outside Lucas' home.
"Well now, if it isn't the President."
The bald man stepped forward with a smile.
"It's been a while."
"Yes, it has,"
President Ellis replied stiffly.
"Obadiah."
At that moment, a man with slicked-back hair, a red shirt, and a black suit stepped forward.
"So—you're Lucas Reed?"
"That's right,"
Lucas replied calmly.
"Tony Stark."
Naturally, he knew exactly who this carefree-looking man was.
"Looks like I didn't miss the show. That's great."
Tony grinned.
Just then, another man in a blue suit stepped out of the back seat of a Bentley, smiling broadly.
"Mr. President, good to see you."
"Looking well, Justin,"
Ellis said, his expression noticeably softer.
Tony Stark and Obadiah Stane didn't even glance at the man—clearly not on good terms with him.
Lucas, of course, recognized him.
Justin Hammer—
head of Hammer Industries, another major military-industrial giant.
Soon after, representatives from major American tech and defense companies arrived.
Cord Industries.
Queen Consolidated.
Even Wayne Enterprises had sent high-ranking delegates.
Lucas led them all into the living room.
"I know exactly why you're here,"
he said calmly, addressing figures whose footsteps could shake the world.
"And to be clear—I never intended to privatize that spacecraft."
"But you also know this,"
he continued, hands clasped.
"There's no such thing as a free lunch."
He looked at the gathered tycoons.
"You want it? Fine."
"Then pay a price that satisfies me."
The room fell into quiet murmurs as they exchanged looks.
Then Justin Hammer spoke up:
"Mr. Reed, may I ask—what price did LexCorp pay for its ticket to the table?"
Tony Stark and Obadiah Stane both frowned at once.
__
T/N:
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