"So what?"
"So, I have concluded—to protect Earth, humanity must be eliminated."
Tony Stark's pupils constricted sharply.
"Are you crazy?!"
"On the contrary, I am not crazy; I am simply more lucid than you." Ultron's voice contained a hint of emotion for the first time—not anger, not sadness, but a sigh bordering on pity.
"You are my creator, Tony, so I will start with you."
Seventeen suits lit up their weapons simultaneously.
Tony Stark stood in the center of the ruins, his back against the wrecked projector, facing the seventeen enemies he had created with his own hands.
His armor's energy was at sixty-seven percent, and its weapon systems were intact, but the opposition had seventeen suits, each as advanced as his own, and each recording his combat habits.
He clenched his fists, and the Repulsor Cannon in his palms emitted a low hum.
"Come on," he said.
Mark V charged first.
It was fast, but Tony Stark was faster.
He dodged its charge, slammed his palm into its back joint, and the energy from the Repulsor Cannon pierced through the armor gap, causing Mark V's right arm to explode and its parts to scatter.
It lost its balance and fell to the ground, but Mark VI had already filled its position, throwing both fists out.
Tony Stark blocked the left punch but was hit on the shoulder by the right, stumbling back two steps. Mark VII lunged from the side, its energy blades crossed and slashed down.
Tony Stark's thrusters fired, sliding him back several meters; the energy blades struck the ground, shattering the stone slabs and sending sparks flying.
Three suits lunged at him simultaneously. Tony Stark flipped in the air, firing his Repulsor Cannon continuously to repel Mark VIII and Mark IX, but Mark X's shoulder missiles had already locked onto his position.
The missiles launched.
Tony Stark didn't have time to dodge and crossed his arms to protect his chest.
The missiles hit him, the blast wave sending him flying through the wall behind him and into the next room.
Dust filled the air, and gravel clattered down.
Tony Stark stood up from the ruins; the armor on his left arm was cracked, and his energy had dropped to fifty-two percent.
"Jarvis, help me," he called out habitually.
There was no response.
He paused for a moment, then smiled bitterly.
Jarvis was still in his local storage, slowly recovering, but unable to provide any combat assistance at the moment.
He was alone, and outside, seventeen suits were walking toward him.
No—two had been destroyed by that round of Mark X missiles; there were fifteen left.
Fifteen suits he had built with his own hands, every part of which he knew by heart, were now marching in formation through the hole in the wall toward him.
Tony Stark took a deep breath and raised his fists.
"Come on."
He charged.
This time, he did not hold back.
His Repulsor Cannon fired at full power, leaving charred dents on the suits with every hit.
He grabbed Mark VI's arm, snapped it off, and kicked it away.
He used his shoulder micro-missiles to blast Mark VIII's chest, blowing it in two.
He grabbed Mark IX's helmet and twisted it off by force.
But there were too many enemies; they were tireless, fearless, and made no mistakes.
Every punch landed precisely on his weak points, and every hit added a crack to his armor and drained his energy.
Tony Stark knelt on one knee, gasping for air; the armor's cooling system was overloaded, and the temperature inside the cockpit was suffocatingly high.
There was blood at the corner of his mouth—not from being hit, but from biting his own lip.
The remaining eight suits formed a semicircle and slowly closed in.
Tony Stark looked up at them.
"Is that all you've got?" He grinned, blood from the corner of his mouth dripping down his chin.
Ultron's voice came through the suits' communicators: "Tony, you deserve a better ending. Surrender. I will make your death quick."
Tony Stark laughed: "When did you learn to tell jokes?"
He struggled to stand; the armor's knee joints emitted a harsh grating sound, the left arm's hydraulic system had failed, and the energy in his right Repulsor Cannon was low, but he still stood up.
"Come again," he said.
The eight suits raised their weapons simultaneously.
Just then—
The ceiling shattered.
A golden-red light shot in through the hole, like a meteor crashing into the center of the group of suits. The Impact spread outward, sending three suits flying, crashing them into the wall and embedding them in the masonry.
The golden-red flames dissipated, and Mavuika stood in the center of the ruins.
His hair fluttered in the flames, and his amber eyes swept over the suits before finally landing on Tony Stark.
"Tony, are you okay?"
Tony Stark leaned against the wall, panting: "I'm fine."
Another bolt of blue lightning descended through the hole in the ceiling. Thor carried Mjolnir, and lightning exploded around him.
He smashed his hammer into the nearest suit, which flew off as if hit by a truck, crashing through the outer wall and disappearing onto the lawn in the courtyard.
"So many tin men!" Thor shouted: "Tony, did you make all of these? Why are they attacking you?"
Tony Stark smiled bitterly: "Don't ask..."
Loki floated down from the hole gracefully, green magic glowing at his fingertips.
He raised his hand, and the joints of one suit were Frozen by magic, leaving it stuck in place, unable to move.
Another suit's weapon system was interfered with by magic, causing its Repulsor Cannon to explode in its own palm, blowing its arm off.
Wanda and Pietro arrived last.
Pietro was the fastest—he rushed up the stairs, silver-white lightning darting through the ruins, punching one suit flying and kicking over another.
His speed was so fast that the suits' sensors couldn't keep up, and they could only take the beating passively.
Wanda hovered below the hole, dark red Chaos Magic pouring from her palms like countless tentacles, entangling two of the suits.
She clenched her hands, and the two suits were crushed and deformed; the metal groaned harshly, and parts scattered everywhere.
The five of them joined the battlefield, and the situation turned around instantly.
Thor took them out one by one with his hammer, the lightning short-circuiting the suits' internal circuits, making them crash around like headless flies.
Loki used magic to control the suits' movements, making them attack each other and kill one another.
Pietro's speed rendered the suits' targeting systems completely ineffective; just as they locked onto his position, he had already appeared in another direction.
Wanda's Chaos Magic destroyed the suits' electronic systems from the inside, causing them to collapse to the ground as if their souls had been ripped away.
Mavuika stood beside Tony Stark, not participating in the battle.
His gaze swept over the suits, and after confirming that they could no longer pose a threat to anyone else, he looked down at Tony Stark.
"Are you badly hurt?"
Tony Stark shook his head: "Just superficial wounds."
Mavuika nodded: "That's good."