《In Marvel With Unique Skill Great Sage (MCU)》 Chapter 1: Who Are You? In the middle of Afghanistan: A vast, endless yellow desert stretched out beneath the unforgiving sun, merging into rugged rocky mountain ranges at the horizon. Sparse patches of withered grass only accentuated the desolation and stillness of the land. In the sweltering heat, a shallow sandpit scattered with broken mechanical parts stood as the only notable feature in this lifeless expanse. Amid the wreckage, two figures¡ªa tall man and a much smaller one¡ªsat across from each other, their shadows barely clinging to the ground under the blazing sun. ¡°I am Tony Stark.¡± The taller man, face caked with blood and sand, sported a scruffy goatee that looked more pitiful than suave. Despite his disheveled state, his tone carried a faint arrogance, as though his name alone was enough to fill the silence between them. ¡°And you are?¡± Tony Stark? The Tony Stark? The smaller figure¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief. Iron Man himself¡ªgenius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Known to some as ¡°America¡¯s Lone Wanderer¡± or even ¡°Tony the Tenacious.¡± The realization struck hard. This was the Marvel Universe, right at the starting line of its greatest saga¡ªthe events of Iron Man had just begun. Relief surged through the smaller man¡¯s chest as he let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding. Sure, this world had its dangers¡ªcosmic threats, power-hungry villains, and occasional alien invasions¡ªbut oh well like I can do anything for that¡­ ¡°I¡¯m Lemu¡­ uh, Echeverr¨ªa. Lemu Echeverr¨ªa,¡± he finally answered, plucking the name from the jumble of odd, unrelated words rattling in his head. As for his real name? That carried a weight of its own¡ªa name steeped in mystery and power, better left unspoken in this fragile reality. The two men sat in uneasy silence, sizing each other up. The atmosphere was anything but cordial. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Lemu¡¯s amber-colored eyes scanned Tony from head to toe. Stark looked nothing like the genius-billionaire stereotype. His clothes were tattered, streaked with dried blood and dirt. His messy hair and patchy beard made him resemble a washed-up vagabond, rather than someone with a net worth that could rival a country¡¯s GDP. Fallen from grace, eh, Iron Man? Despite his shabby appearance, one detail stood out¡ªsomething glowing faintly through the fabric of his chest. Beneath the grime-covered shirt lay a brilliant circle of light: the Arc Reactor. A technological marvel worth billions¡ªno, trillions. A device capable of revolutionizing the energy industry and ushering humanity into a new age. And here it was, beating like a fragile heart inside the chest of a man who, at this moment, looked anything but invincible. A treasure in plain sight¡­ Lemu¡¯s hand drifted subtly to the sand behind him, his fingers closing around a jagged shard of metal¡ªscrap from the broken remains of Tony¡¯s Mark I suit. It was crude but sharp, more than enough to¡­ He hesitated. If he took Stark out here and now¡ªquietly, cleanly¡ªhe could claim the Arc Reactor for himself. No witnesses. No one would ever know. With that device in his possession, Lemu could leapfrog from the gutters of this chaotic world into unimaginable wealth and power. The proposition was tantalizing. Lemu¡¯s amber eyes darkened, a faint glimmer of killing intent flickering within them. The rational side of him whispered that time was running out. The U.S. military would undoubtedly arrive soon, and once they did, the window of opportunity would slam shut. The question lingered: Should I do it? The steel shard in his hand felt heavier, more decisive. The desert heat bore down on him, almost like it was urging him to make his move. Seconds passed in silence. Tick, tock, Lemu. Tony Stark¡¯s bloodshot eyes scrutinized the person before him, sharp with suspicion and guarded curiosity. The figure appeared no older than fourteen or fifteen¡ªa teenager clad in a strange fur-lined coat, under which peeked a crisp white shirt. White bandages were wrapped neatly around their forearms and calves, adding an antiquated, otherworldly touch to the ensemble. What stood out even more was the peculiar shade of their hair: pale blue, cascading just to the shoulders. Their face was delicately sculpted, almost unnervingly flawless¡ªporcelain skin, bright eyes, and refined features that would have looked at home in a Renaissance painting. Even with a layer of desert grime, the figure exuded an ethereal beauty, one that felt oddly out of place in the chaos of Afghanistan. Their amber-colored eyes locked onto Tony¡¯s chest, glimmering with what appeared to be equal parts curiosity and fascination. Is she intrigued by the reactor? The unexpected warmth in their gaze softened Stark¡¯s tension, though only slightly. Grimacing, Stark coughed and shrugged off his work jacket, draping it over his head in a futile attempt to shield himself from the blistering sun. A sharp sting shot through his arm as the movement tugged at his injuries. ¡°Ah, damn it,¡± he muttered, sucking in a pained breath. The desert around them shimmered under the relentless heat, the oppressive stillness broken only by the occasional whisper of a dry wind. It was likely mid-afternoon¡ªthree, maybe four o¡¯clock. Far too early for any hope of the sun relenting. After adjusting his makeshift shade, Stark¡¯s gaze returned to the teenager. His voice carried a note of quiet demand, though he made an effort to keep his tone even, masking his frustration behind a veil of civility. ¡°So, Echeverr¨ªa,¡± he began, ¡°how about you answer a few questions for me?¡± He gestured toward the open sky above them. ¡°I was mid-flight¡ªsoaring along, minding my own business¡ªwhen, suddenly, this black rift tore open out of nowhere. And then you¡ª¡± his voice tightened slightly¡ª¡°you fell through. Right on top of me.¡± Tony leaned forward, his expression unreadable. ¡°Then, as if that wasn¡¯t strange enough, you conjured up some kind of¡­ magical force to keep us both suspended in mid-air. And after that?¡± He paused, narrowing his eyes. ¡°You dismantled my suit¡ªpiece by piece¡ªlike it was some cheap scrap heap at a junkyard.¡± There was no mistaking the weight in his voice now, the underlying tension carefully restrained. ¡°So tell me. Are you some time-traveling sorcerer from the past? A reclusive mountain witch? Or maybe an alien here for an authentic ¡®primitive Earth¡¯ safari experience?¡± Chapter 2: You got me. I鈥檓 an alien! Ten Minutes Earlier Afghanistan. A land of chaos and anarchy, ruled by conflict and bloodshed. In this place, kidnappings, terror strikes, and armed skirmishes were as common as the shifting sands. It was here, in this lawless desert, that Tony Stark¡ªa billionaire industrialist and unwilling prisoner of war¡ªhad achieved the impossible. Using his unmatched ingenuity and the assistance of a brave companion, Stark had built the prototype of all prototypes: the Mark I suit. The suit had been rough, crude, and unwieldy, but it worked. With it, Stark had incinerated the terrorists¡¯ munitions depot and launched himself skyward, leaving the chaos in flames behind him. For a brief, triumphant moment, he had soared above the ravaged landscape, a man reborn. And then it happened. A black rift had ripped open in the sky, swallowing the sunlight for a fraction of a second before spitting out a figure¡ªa human-shaped meteor plummeting straight toward him. ¡°WHAM!¡± The impact sent Stark hurtling downward, the Mark I suit groaning under the combined weight of both his body and the intruder. The desert floor loomed closer with terrifying speed. At this altitude, survival was impossible. The suit, the sand¡ªnone of it would save him from the brutal force of impact. But then, against all odds, a powerful gust of wind materialized out of nowhere, cushioning their fall. They hovered for a moment, suspended mid-air, before descending safely onto the soft dunes below. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Once grounded, the stranger¡ªa small figure with pale blue hair¡ªimmediately got to work. Without hesitation, they began digging Stark out of the sand, prying apart the Mark I¡¯s bulky armor. Except, they didn¡¯t use tools. No wrenches, no screwdrivers¡ªjust bare hands. The teenager grabbed at screws and bolts, twisting them loose as if they were made of clay. Cables snapped under their grip with ease. With a series of metallic groans and snaps, the suit fell away, leaving Tony stunned¡ªand more than a little unnerved. Barehanded. No assistance, no machinery. Just sheer force. Tony, for once in his life, was at a loss for words. ¡­. Tony Stark¡¯s gaze didn¡¯t waver as he repeated his question, sharp and insistent. ¡°So, Echeverr¨ªa¡ªwho are you? And where the hell did you come from?¡± Lemu sighed inwardly. Of all the questions Stark could ask, why this one? The truth was, he had no idea how to answer. First, he wasn¡¯t exactly a master liar. Second¡ªand perhaps more importantly¡ªhe genuinely didn¡¯t know how he had ended up here. What he did know was this: A long, long time ago, he had been struck by a bolt of lightning. When he woke up, he found himself trapped in an endless black void. The darkness was suffocatingly vast. No sense of touch, no need to breathe, no concept of time or direction. Just an infinite, crushing emptiness. Years passed¡ªor maybe centuries; it was impossible to tell. Then, one day, without warning, a crack of light tore through the darkness. Desperate, Lemu had thrown himself toward the light, using every ounce of strength he didn¡¯t even realize he still possessed. Just as the fissure began to close, he managed to hurl himself through it. And then¡ª WHAM. He collided head first with Tony Stark. Or, as Stark preferred to tell it, Stark collided with him. The Mark I armor hit the desert with a resounding crash, digging deep into the sand, while Lemu bounced off the billionaire like a pinball, landing unceremoniously atop him. And that was how his grand escape from the void had concluded: with a faceful of dirt and Stark¡¯s accusations ringing in his ears. As he sat cross-legged in the scorching desert, Lemu flexed his fingers experimentally. They were long and slender, pale and delicate, but slightly smaller than he remembered. His strength, however, was anything but ordinary. He had torn apart electrical wiring and disassembled Stark¡¯s armor barehanded, feats that would have been impossible before. Even falling several meters from the sky had left him unscathed, save for a faint tingling sensation. Lemu raised his head to the sun, squinting. No pain. No discomfort. He could stare directly into the blinding light without so much as a blink. Even the oppressive heat of the desert felt oddly pleasant, like a warm blanket on a cold night. Then there was the strange new ability¡ªthe power to summon gusts of wind seemingly at will. And, of course, the mechanical voice that now whispered cryptic information in his mind. What is this body? Questions swirled in his mind, but answers would have to wait. For now, one thing was clear: escaping that eternal, suffocating void was a blessing, no matter the cost. Lemu glanced down at himself, tugging awkwardly at his pale blue hair. The unfamiliar color still felt strange to him, a glaring reminder that this wasn¡¯t the body he had once known. Still, deep down, he clung to one comforting thought, ¡®I¡¯m human¡ªor at least, I used to be. A parallel universe version, maybe, but human nonetheless.¡¯ Gathering his thoughts, Lemu finally looked back at Stark, meeting his scrutinizing gaze with a mixture of honesty and mischief. ¡°Alright,¡± he said with a straight face, his amber eyes shining with sincerity. ¡°You got me. I¡¯m an alien.¡± Chapter 3: Voices In Mind! At precisely 4:45 PM, the serene yet vibrant atmosphere of Kamar-Taj brimmed with disciplined focus. In the central training grounds, numerous sorcerer apprentices practiced diligently, their movements synchronized and precise. The grounds exuded an austere charm, surrounded by ancient architecture steeped in history. Pagodas, bell towers, and meditation halls were scattered like relics of a forgotten era, imbued with the mystique of a monastic sanctuary. Each apprentice wore a Sling Ring on one hand, their other hand sketching glowing circles in the air. Suspended before them were basketball-sized sparks of orange magical energy, swirling with latent power. A tall, dark-skinned man, his expression stern, strode among the students with his hands clasped behind his back. His voice, steady and authoritative, carried across the training grounds: ¡°Mastering the Sling Ring is essential for traversing the place through portal. Without it, you cannot hope to wield even the most basic of magics.¡± At the edge of the crowd, the Sorcerer Supreme herself, the Ancient One, observed quietly. Her gait was unhurried, her eyes sweeping over the apprentices with the sharpness of a hawk and the patience of a gardener tending to young saplings. She wasn¡¯t just assessing their progress¡ªshe was also evaluating the teaching capabilities of her senior disciple. The Ancient One wore a clean, understated dark blue robe, its simplicity belying her status. In her hand, she held a well-worn folding fan, its design as timeless as she appeared to be. Trailing behind her was one of her more eccentric disciples, a young man with a rather peculiar hairstyle: short on the sides, with braids tied at odd angles, giving him a ¡°nonconformist monk¡± appearance. Suddenly, the Ancient One stopped mid-step. With an audible snap, she closed her fan and turned her gaze westward, her expression serene yet grave. Her disciple hesitated, then stepped forward, bowing slightly. ¡°Is something wrong, Master?¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! The Ancient One waved a hand dismissively, her tone measured, almost contemplative. ¡°Something has breached the dimensional barrier¡­¡± The disciple straightened, ready to act. ¡°Shall I investigate?¡± ¡°No,¡± she replied, her voice calm yet resolute. ¡°I¡¯ll handle this myself.¡± Her eyes gleamed with emerald light, the shimmering trails of the Time Stone spinning within. As though peering through the veil of time and space, she glimpsed something¡ªor someone¡ªthat brought a faint smile to her lips. ¡°A fascinating little being,¡± she murmured, before vanishing in a swirl of green sparks. ¡­. The sun burned mercilessly overhead, turning the sand into a molten golden sea. It shimmered like liquid fire, suffocating and relentless, threatening to melt even the hardiest of travelers. Two figures trudged through this vast expanse. The taller one staggered with labored breaths, his footsteps unsteady, while the smaller figure followed with an unnerving ease, moving as if the heat and sand were mere trifles. Lemu and Tony Stark had left the crash site, choosing to head in a random direction. Staying in one spot seemed like inviting death¡ªeither from dehydration or from the possible return of the terrorist group that had held Stark captive. Though the endless desert stretched before them with no clear destination, the unspoken agreement was simple: keep moving. As for Stark, his condition was far from ideal. With every step, he grew weaker, the scorching heat sapping what little strength he had left. Lemu, meanwhile, seemed unfazed by the heat, his pace light and steady. After some deliberation, Lemu had decided¡ªfor now¡ªto spare Tony Stark¡¯s life. For one, the Arc Reactor embedded in Stark¡¯s chest was far too advanced for Lemu to fully comprehend or replicate, at least not in his current state. (At this point, Lemu was still unaware of the mysterious ¡°Great Sage¡± voice that had recently awakened within him. Had he known, he might not have cared as much about the Arc Reactor¡ªit would be child¡¯s play to recreate with the right knowledge.) Secondly, even if he did manage to acquire the Arc Reactor, he lacked the connections to sell it. Finding a buyer in this world without being hunted down or undercut would be nearly impossible. As they walked, Stark finally broke the silence, his voice hoarse yet laced with his trademark sarcasm. ¡°So, Echeverr¨ªa, what¡¯s your grand plan here? Walk me to death and take the reactor off my corpse?¡± Lemu shot him a sidelong glance, his amber eyes glittering with amusement. ¡°Nah, too much effort. I¡¯m more of a wait-until-you-faint-then-borrow-your-stuff kind of guy.¡± Stark let out a weak laugh, shaking his head. ¡°Figures. You¡¯ve got that whole ¡®cryptic drifter¡¯ vibe going for you.¡± Reason number three: this was the Marvel Universe. Here, crises capable of annihilating the planet were as common as grains of sand in the Sahara. To make matters worse, there was a big purple guy named Thanos lurking in the background, scheming to snap half the universe out of existence like it was just another Tuesday. Without Iron Man, who was going to stand against that cosmic maniac? Captain America and his shield? Sure, good luck with that. So yeah, keeping Tony Stark alive seemed like the smarter option. After all, dead geniuses couldn¡¯t invent world-saving tech or form superhero teams. Also¡ªLemu paused mid-thought, solemnly placing a hand over his heart¡ªhe was a man of principles. Such a benevolent, upright, morally impeccable soul like himself would never stoop to murder or theft, let alone exploit someone in their weakest moment. ¡°Absolutely not,¡± Lemu murmured under his breath. ¡°Not me.¡± He tried to convince himself of this noble truth as they trudged through the desert. Then, as if to distract himself, he hesitated and asked internally, ¡°Hello? You there?¡± He was referring to the voice he¡¯d heard earlier¡ªback when he and Stark were free-falling to their likely deaths, only to be saved by an inexplicable gust of wind. A response came immediately, calm and measured. ¡°Acknowledged. I am here.¡± Lemu breathed a quiet sigh of relief. ¡®Thank goodness I haven¡¯t gone insane. I mean, who wouldn¡¯t start questioning their sanity after being stuck in a dark void for what felt like centuries?¡¯ Chapter 4: Great Sage! Lemu breathed a quiet sigh of relief. ¡®Thank goodness I haven¡¯t gone insane. I mean, who wouldn¡¯t start questioning their sanity after being stuck in a dark void for what felt like centuries?¡¯ He pressed on. ¡°Alright, so¡­ Who are you? And what exactly happened back there? Mind explaining?¡± ¡°Acknowledged. I am your Unique Skill: Great Sage.¡± Great Sage? Lemu blinked, processing this. Wasn¡¯t that the same overpowered AI-like ability from the reincarnation stories he used to read? A magical system capable of calculations, decisions, and near-infinite processing? The voice continued, its tone as devoid of emotion as a well-tuned AI. ¡°Earlier, you unconsciously utilized your skill, Predator, to consume atmospheric elements. Following analysis, the skill: Airflow Manipulation was acquired. Upon detecting a life-threatening situation, I automatically activated Airflow Manipulation to stabilize your descent.¡± Lemu frowned slightly. ¡°Wait, wait, hold on. Predator? When did I use that?¡± ¡°Acknowledged. During freefall, air entered your dimensional space through your respiratory system. This was interpreted as an instance of skill usage.¡± Lemu¡¯s thoughts ground to a halt for a moment. So, swallowing air counts as using Predator? Does that mean I¡¯ve been ¡®consuming¡¯ stuff all along without realizing it? Shaking off the absurdity of the situation, he tried a different approach. ¡°Okay¡­ Do you know how I ended up in this world? Or how you came to exist?¡± ¡°Acknowledged. Insufficient information. Unable to analyze.¡± Even Great Sage didn¡¯t have all the answers. Lemu sighed, slightly disappointed. ¡°Fine, let¡¯s move on. Can you at least list all my skills? I need to know what I¡¯m working with.¡± ¡°Acknowledged. Compiling skill data.¡± In an instant, a translucent interface materialized in his mind, lines of text appearing in neat, orderly rows: Unique Skills: ?Great Sage: Grants advanced computation, thought acceleration, and decision-making capabilities. Reduces the difficulty of skill acquisition significantly. ?Predator: Enables the absorption and analysis of targets, granting access to their properties and abilities. Intrinsic Skills: ?Rapid Regeneration: Heals injuries at an accelerated rate. ?Magic Perception: Detects the flow and presence of magic in the environment. ?Bloodless Body: Negates the need for blood circulation, eliminating vulnerabilities tied to blood loss.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ?Human Mimicry: Allows perfect replication of a human appearance and physical traits. Acquired Skills: ?Airflow Manipulation: Grants control over atmospheric currents for movement or defense. ?Heat Resistance: Mitigates the effects of extreme heat. Lemu¡¯s gaze swept across the list. As his focus settled on each skill, detailed descriptions flowed seamlessly into his mind. For example: ?Great Sage: Provides analytical, computational, and decision-making capabilities. Reduces acquisition difficulty of new skills through optimization. The glowing text hovered in Lemu¡¯s mind, crisp and clear, as he reviewed his newfound abilities one by one. Lemu¡¯s gaze lingered on the words as realization dawned on him. ¡°So,¡± he muttered to himself, ¡°I¡¯m¡­ a slime now. This human appearance? Just a simulation.¡± That was a strange pill to swallow. He didn¡¯t feel particularly slimy, yet the truth was clear: he wasn¡¯t human anymore. ¡®What gender am I¡­ male? Female? Or something entirely outside those categories?¡¯ The question gave him pause. The thought of ¡°biological barriers¡± and ¡°reproductive isolation¡± made him scratch his head. Did being a slime even count as having a gender? As for his newer abilities, like Airflow Manipulation and Heat Resistance, they seemed perfectly tailored for surviving in this blazing desert. The former had already saved his life, while the latter made walking through this furnace of golden sand feel oddly pleasant¡ªlike a stroll on a warm beach. Counting everything, there were eight skills total. ¡°Not a huge list,¡± Lemu said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, ¡°but the potential is massive. Bread will come. Bullets will come. And eventually¡­¡± He smirked. ¡°So will power.¡± Following leisurely behind Tony Stark, Lemu adopted a relaxed gait, one arm folded across his chest, the other propping up his chin. For a slime, he looked remarkably smug. But then, another thought struck him like a bolt out of the blue. ¡®Wait a second¡­ slime bodies don¡¯t have reproductive systems. Did I just become biologically immortal?!¡¯ Before he could dive further into his existential musings, Stark¡¯s gravelly voice shattered his train of thought. ¡°So, you¡¯re claiming to be an alien?¡± Stark¡¯s tone was equal parts skepticism and snark, his voice rough from dehydration and exhaustion. ¡°Got any proof to back that up?¡± The inventor didn¡¯t even turn around as he spoke, his steps heavy and uneven on the scorching sands. Despite his injuries and the lack of rescue, he still found time to needle his strange companion. ¡°And what¡¯s with that prehistoric fur coat? You¡¯re telling me advanced alien civilizations don¡¯t have something more fashionable? What happened, too broke to afford a nice jacket or¡ªhell¡ªeven a cute little skirt?¡± The sarcasm was practically dripping off his parched lips. Lemu came to a halt, his eyes narrowing at the man¡¯s back. ¡°Ha!¡± he shot back, his voice dripping with disdain. ¡°What would a provincial Earthling like you know about fashion? This,¡±¡ªhe gestured dramatically to his fur-lined attire¡ª¡°is called retro-chic. The simplicity of its design speaks to a refined, understated luxury. The plush texture evokes a nostalgic warmth, an elegance that transcends time.¡± He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in before delivering the final blow. ¡°And as anyone with even a shred of cultural awareness knows, fashion is cyclical. Your so-called ¡®modern style¡¯ is nothing more than a fleeting echo of the classics.¡± Chapter 5: Earthlings! ¡°And as anyone with even a shred of cultural awareness knows, fashion is cyclical. Your so-called ¡®modern style¡¯ is nothing more than a fleeting echo of the classics.¡± Stark stumbled slightly, not because of his injuries but from sheer disbelief. For a supposed alien, this guy had one hell of a rebuttal ready. But as Lemu replayed Stark¡¯s words in his mind, something caught him off guard. Wait a second¡­ did he just say ¡°cute little skirt¡±? His expression darkened. ¡°Just for the record,¡± Lemu said coldly, his voice like a dagger aimed directly at Stark¡¯s ego, ¡°I am not female, and I would never wear a skirt. Not even if I were dying, thank you very much.¡± Tony glanced back for a moment, raising an eyebrow at the peculiar being. ¡°Right. Because that¡¯s the most pressing issue we¡¯ve got going on in this deathtrap of a desert.¡± ¡°Damn straight,¡± Lemu muttered under his breath, brushing a stray strand of azure hair out of his face. Stark suddenly spun on his heel, and Lemu had to stop abruptly to avoid colliding with him. For a few unsettling seconds, Tony Stark stared at him, his bloodshot eyes scanning Lemu¡¯s face with the intensity of a man trying to solve a riddle. His gaze was sharp but also unnervingly invasive, like a laser cutting through Lemu¡¯s facade. Just as abruptly, Stark turned back around and resumed walking, his tone dismissive. ¡°Alright, Mr. Whatever-You-Are. I don¡¯t care what gender you claim to be, but if you¡¯re really an alien, why don¡¯t you prove it? Or is your species all talk?¡± Lemu sighed, deciding to drop the whole gender argument entirely. He cleared his throat and began weaving his tale. ¡°As far as I know, your planet¡ªEarth¡ªis cataloged as C-53 on the Kree star charts. It¡¯s a fairly unremarkable planetary civilization, but you¡¯ve had your share of extraterrestrial visitors. Asgardians, Kree, Skrulls¡ªthey¡¯ve all stopped by and left their marks.¡± Tony¡¯s steps faltered for half a second but quickly resumed. His back remained to Lemu, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Wow, you really did your homework. Keep going, this is a fascinating bedtime story.¡± Ignoring the jab, Lemu continued, his tone unflappable. ¡°Some Earthlings have even ventured out into the universe and made a name for themselves. Take Peter Quill, for instance¡ªa Ravager better known as Star-Lord. Or Carol Danvers, who goes by the moniker Captain Marvel.¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. ¡°And you?¡± Stark interrupted with a mocking chuckle. ¡°Let me guess¡ªyour spaceship broke down in the desert, so you¡¯re hitchhiking?¡± ¡°Close enough,¡± Lemu replied smoothly. ¡°I ended up here due to a teleportation malfunction. Now I¡¯m stuck. Your planet¡¯s¡­ rudimentary technology doesn¡¯t exactly help. No ships, no teleporters¡ªnothing.¡± Tony barked out an exaggerated laugh, still walking. ¡°Oh, of course. Sounds legit. But tell me this¡ªhow is it that aliens speak such perfect English?¡± Lemu couldn¡¯t help but smirk. ¡¯Ah, I was waiting for this.¡¯ ¡°Ordinarily, I¡¯d be using a universal translator to communicate with you,¡± he explained, his voice taking on a slightly patronizing edge. ¡°However, as you¡¯ve probably noticed, I have special abilities. One of them allows me to understand any soundwave-based language instantly. Similarly, I can project my own thoughts into soundwaves that your brain automatically interprets as your native language.¡± ¡°Right. And you just happen to have superpowers. How convenient,¡± Stark retorted, his sarcasm unwavering. ¡°Let me demonstrate.¡± Lemu raised his hand, and a sudden gust of wind whipped around them. The swirling air picked up grains of sand, forming a miniature tornado at Stark¡¯s feet before quickly dissipating. Tony stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. Before he could say anything, a voice¡ªnot Lemu¡¯s actual voice, but one that resonated directly in his ears¡ªspoke in flawless British English with a crisp London accent. ¡°Impressed yet? This is what it means to transmit information through soundwaves, without even needing to move my lips.¡± Tony¡¯s head snapped around to face Lemu, his expression a mix of irritation, awe, and disbelief. ¡°What the hell was that?¡± he demanded. Lemu clapped his hands, as if brushing off invisible dust. ¡°A little demonstration of my powers. As I said¡ªmagic, science, call it what you will.¡± Tony blinked, his face slack with exhaustion and growing bewilderment. The heat, dehydration, and lingering pain from his injuries were already wearing him down. Now, his mind felt like it was spiraling. ¡°Great,¡± Stark muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°First I get kidnapped by terrorists, now I¡¯m hallucinating about aliens in fur coats. Next thing you¡¯ll tell me, I¡¯ve got brain damage from the fall.¡± ¡°Not impossible,¡± Lemu quipped, folding his arms. ¡°Though I¡¯d argue that your skepticism might be a bigger problem.¡± Stark didn¡¯t reply, instead trudging forward, muttering something inaudible under his breath. ¡­. Stark turned back to glance at Lemu, his eyes glinting with a faint, desperate hope. ¡°So¡­ Mr. Alien,¡± he asked, his voice tinged with exhaustion and a rare flicker of vulnerability. ¡°Do you have a way to get us out of this desert?¡± ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t.¡± Stark¡¯s shoulders slumped. ¡°Any other help you can offer?¡± Lemu paused, considering his skills. After a long silence, he shrugged apologetically. ¡°¡­Still no.¡± Without a word, Stark turned back around and continued trudging through the endless expanse of sand. Alien, wizard, hallucination¡ªit didn¡¯t matter anymore. Getting out alive was the only thing that counted. After a while, he seemed to remember something. He didn¡¯t turn his head this time, his voice uncertain. ¡°You know¡­ I think I¡¯ve seen someone like you before. On Earth.¡± Lemu chuckled softly, unconcerned. ¡°The universe is vast, my friend. It¡¯s just a matter of probability. As far as I know, there are plenty of species that look identical to humans. But honestly¡­¡± He tilted his head, looking Stark up and down. ¡°You look like a walking corpse right now. Dehydration, I¡¯d guess. Sure you¡¯re okay?¡± Chapter 6: Thirsty! Stark shut his eyes tightly, trying to ignore the stinging sensation as sweat mixed with the grit of sand and seeped into the cracks of his dry, sunburnt skin. His mouth was parched, and every time he licked his cracked lips, he tasted the faint tang of blood. They had been wandering the desert for nearly two hours now, with no sign of rescue. ¡­. Meanwhile, in the Valley of Wreckage¡­ The Ten Rings leader groaned as he regained consciousness. Flames roared all around him, and the stench of burning metal and flesh choked the air. His ears rang violently, and his face was a nightmare of pain¡ªhis right cheek felt as though it had been branded with a red-hot iron. Blinking through the smoke and the searing agony, he surveyed the scene. His base, once his stronghold, was reduced to rubble and corpses, a sea of twisted metal and fire. For a brief moment, relief flickered in his chest¡ªhe had survived the missile. But as he took in the devastation, despair clawed its way into his heart. The bitter memory returned with full force. Months ago, he had accepted a lucrative contract to attack a U.S. military convoy. What he hadn¡¯t anticipated was capturing someone infinitely more dangerous than he could have imagined¡ªTony Stark, the infamous genius arms dealer, also known as one of America¡¯s deadliest weapons in human form. Because his employer had failed to pay the full bounty, he had made the fateful mistake of keeping Stark alive. A gesture of ¡°mercy,¡± he thought at the time. Now, staring at the carnage that had unfolded in the blink of an eye, he realized it was a mercy he would never forgive himself for. Staggering through the wreckage, the leader fell to his knees amidst the smoldering ruins of his men and equipment. His screams of rage and grief echoed through the desolate valley¡ªa chorus of anguish that blended with the howling desert wind. His once-proud visage was now twisted, monstrous, like a demon dragged out of hell, yet his desperation was that of a beaten, starving dog. ¡­. Back in the Desert¡­ Tony Stark and Lemu trudged onward, their bodies battered by the merciless heat. The sun blazed overhead, casting distorted mirages across the horizon. Neither had food nor water, and each step felt heavier than the last.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Stark¡¯s legs were unsteady, his footsteps uneven as he pressed forward. Occasionally, he shielded his eyes with his hand, scanning the distance for any sign of help¡ªa military patrol, a passing vehicle, anything. Lemu, meanwhile, seemed unnaturally calm, his fur-lined coat miraculously unruffled by the oppressive heat. If Stark wasn¡¯t so distracted by his own suffering, he might¡¯ve found it infuriating. Finally, Stark broke the silence, his voice hoarse and cracked. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ not thirsty?¡± Lemu raised an eyebrow, as if the question were beneath him. ¡°I don¡¯t need water.¡± Stark grunted bitterly. ¡°Convenient. Must be nice being you.¡± ¡°Not really,¡± Lemu replied nonchalantly. ¡°But I¡¯ll admit, it has its perks.¡± Stark didn¡¯t respond. His gaze remained fixed on the horizon, the flicker of hope that had once lit his eyes dimming with each step. For all his wit and brilliance, even Tony Stark couldn¡¯t outthink the desert. Not without help. And right now, that help was nowhere to be found. The desert stretched endlessly before them, its vastness interrupted only by the occasional patch of scraggly weeds and the shifting contours of the sand dunes. Somewhere out there, a U.S. military base should be stationed. Logic dictated that the military would have already deployed helicopters to investigate the blast site, expanding their search radius outward. Yet, as the sun sank lower toward the western horizon, the skies remained eerily empty. By Stark¡¯s own calculations, the delay made no sense. Helicopters could cover this distance quickly; their absence was troubling. The air was growing cooler with the approach of evening, but Stark knew better than to feel relieved. If rescue didn¡¯t arrive before nightfall, they¡¯d face a bitterly cold desert night¡ªa trial that could push even the strongest to their limits. Worse, the darkness would severely hamper any ongoing search operations. Humans and slimes, however, did not share the same struggles. For Stark, this was a harrowing survival ordeal¡ªdehydration, exhaustion, and injury weighing heavily on him with each grueling step. For Lemu, it was little more than an extended stroll. The desert, while majestic at first glance, quickly grew monotonous. Sand stretched endlessly in every direction, punctuated only by the occasional tuft of dried grass. The wind, carrying fine grains of sand, was an irritant, stinging the skin and clouding the air. But none of this seemed to faze Lemu. His inhuman physique, combined with his natural resistance to heat, left him unaffected by the sweltering temperatures. Stark, on the other hand, was visibly deteriorating. Two hours of relentless sun exposure had taken a heavy toll on the man who had already endured months of captivity and torture. His face, pale and gaunt, seemed to grow more lifeless with every step. Lemu cast a sidelong glance at Stark, a flicker of concern crossing his otherwise calm demeanor. In the desert, the lack of water was a death sentence. For the average person, dehydration could claim a life in as little as one to three days, depending on the severity of the conditions. And Stark wasn¡¯t just any person¡ªhe was injured, his reserves already critically low. Water¡­ In a barren wasteland like this, the sources of water were painfully limited: plants, animals, underground reserves, or the atmosphere itself. Plants and animals were virtually nonexistent in this part of the desert. Underground water? Completely out of reach without tools. That left the air. Lemu¡¯s eyes narrowed as an idea took shape in his mind. He absentmindedly twirled a lock of his long hair¡ªsomething he had developed a habit of doing since gaining this human form. The air was made up of countless molecules, including water vapor. If he could control airflow, it stood to reason that he could compress the air to condense water, or even separate water molecules directly from the surrounding gases. ¡°Great Sage,¡± Lemu thought, addressing the voice in his mind, ¡°is it possible to extract water molecules from the air?¡± Chapter 7: Trade for Water! ¡°Great Sage,¡± Lemu thought, addressing the voice in his mind, ¡°is it possible to extract water molecules from the air?¡± The calm, feminine voice of the Great Sage responded immediately. ¡®Affirmative. Through the skill Airflow Manipulation, magicules can be used to bind and condense water vapor within the air, resulting in the collection of water.¡¯ A grin spread across Lemu¡¯s face. With an audible clap of his hands, he exclaimed, ¡°Perfect!¡± ¡°Great Sage, I need two liters of water.¡± The moment the command left his thoughts, a wave of intense fatigue swept over him. It was as if a vital part of his energy had been drained all at once, leaving his body hollow and his legs unsteady. He stumbled, nearly collapsing under the strain. Before him, however, the results of his efforts began to take shape. A shimmering orb of water slowly coalesced in the air, its surface rippling as it hovered midair, supported by an invisible current of magic-infused wind. ¡°What¡­ what just happened?¡± Lemu asked, gasping for breath, his vision swimming slightly from the sudden energy drain. The Great Sage¡¯s voice remained steady, unaffected by his distress. ¡®The creation of water through atmospheric condensation requires a significant expenditure of magicules. The depletion you experienced is a result of this energy transfer.¡¯ Lemu stared at the floating water sphere, equal parts triumphant and alarmed. He had achieved his goal, but at a far steeper cost than he had anticipated. ¡®Extraction of water vapor complete. At the current temperature and atmospheric pressure, humidity is 8%, with 3.2 grams of water per cubic meter of air. A total of 625 cubic meters of air was processed, resulting in the collection of two liters of water.¡¯ ¡®Warning: Excessive instantaneous depletion of magicules has caused temporary weakness. Molecular-level skill usage requires significant energy.¡¯ Six hundred cubic meters of air¡­ and it drained that much magicules? ¡®Explanation: Magicules are equivalent to life energy. Depletion will trigger gradual absorption of external energy for recovery.¡¯ Lemu sighed, his brow furrowing. Unlike certain overpowered protagonists with dragons or infinite energy sources tucked away in their bodies, he had no such luxuries. Limited reserves of magicules? Yeah, that tracked. Still, he straightened himself and called out to Stark, who was trudging ahead. ¡°Hey, genius! I¡¯ve got water. You want some?¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Stark turned on his heel, eyes narrowing in suspicion¡ªuntil they landed on the crystalline orb of water floating effortlessly in the air. He froze, staring at it as if it were the Holy Grail itself. His parched throat tightened, and he swore under his breath, barely able to comprehend what he was seeing. ¡°What the f*¡­ How the hell did you¡ª?¡±** He cut himself off mid-sentence, taking a hesitant step forward. No, this wasn¡¯t a mirage. This was real, tangible water. Stark¡¯s pace quickened, the desperation in his eyes clear. To him, that orb of water was more valuable than gold, sweeter than vodka, and smoother than the skin of a supermodel gracing the cover of Playboy. But just as Stark reached out, Lemu raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks. ¡°Hold it, Stark!¡± His voice carried the smugness of someone who held all the cards. ¡°This isn¡¯t a freebie.¡± Stark¡¯s gaze snapped to Lemu, his expression darkening. The man¡¯s eyes were sharp, dangerous¡ªlike a cornered wolf, one step away from baring its teeth. In the desert, water wasn¡¯t just a resource. It was life itself. People had killed for far less. Lemu, however, remained utterly unfazed. He met Stark¡¯s predatory stare with calm confidence. ¡°A trade,¡± he said, folding his arms. ¡°You give me something, and I¡¯ll give you the water.¡± Grinding his teeth, Stark weighed his options. ¡°What do you want? Money? Name your price. A thousand dollars per milliliter? Done.¡± Two liters of water¡­ That was two million dollars. Cold, hard cash. Stark could easily afford it. For a brief, fleeting moment, Lemu¡¯s chest¡ªwell, where his chest should be¡ªfluttered with temptation. The thought of amassing that kind of wealth made his nonexistent heart beat faster. But then he shook his head, pressing a hand to his chest as if to steady himself. No, slimes didn¡¯t have hearts, and besides¡­ Money? That was replaceable. What he truly desired was something far more priceless. Something that had been his dream since the moment he first laid eyes on it. Lemu grinned, a glimmer of boyish excitement sparking in his eyes. Raising a finger, he pointed directly at Stark¡¯s worn-out exoskeleton suit. ¡°That armor of yours¡ªthe exoskeleton. I want one. And not just any version. I want an upgraded model.¡± Stark blinked, momentarily caught off guard. His jaw tightened as realization dawned. Lemu¡¯s gaze burned with determination. The Mark series¡ªthe cutting-edge of technology, the masterpiece of human ingenuity¡ªwas the pinnacle of cool. For Lemu, there could be no greater treasure. This was no ordinary barter. This was the pursuit of a lifelong dream. Tony Stark scoffed, his face painted with disdain. ¡°You? In that armor? Do aliens even care about such things?¡± Lemu smirked, crossing his arms. ¡°What do you know? Mecha is the ultimate romance for men! And customization is its very soul!¡± Robots, exoskeletons, powered suits¡ªthey weren¡¯t just technology. They were art. A masterpiece of engineering and design. A shining symbol of humanity¡¯s ingenuity. For Lemu, it was nothing short of perfection. Stark narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Lemu as though trying to make sense of him. Finally, after a moment of contemplation, he muttered, ¡°Not happening.¡± His tone and expression were that of someone watching a penguin try to sell NFTs or a parrot proclaim itself the descendant of T. rex. Lemu, unfazed, waved his hand dismissively. He hadn¡¯t expected Stark to agree so easily. Convincing this genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist would take time. After all, Stark was the one in need here, not him. Still, there was no harm in applying a little pressure. With a sly grin, Lemu reached out, separating half of the floating water sphere and lifting it to his lips. He drank deeply, the cool liquid flowing down his throat. He let out an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction. ¡°Ahhh¡­ Refreshing.¡± Chapter 8: Thermal Resistance! ¡°Ahhh¡­ Refreshing.¡± Stark¡¯s throat bobbed as he tried to swallow¡ªonly to find his mouth completely dry. There wasn¡¯t even a trace of saliva left. His Adam¡¯s apple shifted up and down, stuck in an awkward limbo. His eyes darted between Lemu and the remaining water. The desperation was plain on his face, but his expression grew unreadable as he weighed his options. He seemed to wrestle internally, his mind calculating something. It only took a few seconds before Stark broke the silence. ¡°Deal.¡± Without waiting for a response, he strode forward, crouching before the remaining water sphere. With no hesitation, he buried his face in the floating liquid, gulping it down like a man who had just found an oasis after days in the desert. Lemu raised an eyebrow, suspicion flickering in his mind. That was¡­ fast. For someone as shrewd as Stark, agreeing this quickly felt off. Was he planning something? Some sort of trick? It wouldn¡¯t be surprising, considering Stark¡¯s reputation. Still, Lemu didn¡¯t stop him. Stark was no match for him in his current state anyway. And if it came to a fight, well¡­ Stealing a suit of armor wasn¡¯t beneath him. Besides, technically, it wouldn¡¯t even be stealing¡ªit¡¯d be reclaiming what was rightfully his. And, from what Lemu remembered of Stark¡¯s character, the man wasn¡¯t the type to break a promise. At least¡­ not without good reason. After all, a slime didn¡¯t have a conscience, right? Lemu chuckled internally. If a slime had one, it¡¯d be wise to pluck it out and give it away¡ªmaybe feed it to a stray cat, bury it in the dirt, or use it to grow some flowers. Yes, that¡¯s right. I¡¯m just a trashy slime. The sun had dipped below the horizon by now, and the desert plunged into darkness. The sand dunes around them cast long shadows, their shapes distorted and otherworldly. It was as though they¡¯d stumbled into a realm of nameless terrors, with unseen beasts lurking in the depths, waiting to strike. But the desert didn¡¯t need monsters to be deadly. It already had its most formidable weapon: the cold. Temperatures in the desert could swing from a blistering fifty degrees Celsius during the day to below freezing at night. The biting winds that began to howl across the dunes carried a chill that seemed to pierce through flesh and bone. Stark and Lemu found temporary refuge behind a sand dune, its curve shielding them from the worst of the wind. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Stark, resourceful as ever, dug out a small hollow in the sand. Nestling into it, he found a trace of warmth still lingering in the grains¡ªa fleeting comfort against the encroaching cold. Lemu sat nearby, his otherworldly resilience sparing him from the worst of the desert¡¯s harsh conditions. ¡­. Tony Stark sat there, staring blankly at the expanse of the desert. He had no energy to entertain idle thoughts or make small talk. He knew that while he had escaped the clutches of those terrorists, the merciless sands of the desert were just as eager to claim him. He needed to conserve his energy. The day had been unrelenting, and his stomach had been growling for hours. Not even a single spider crossed their path. His eyes drifted toward the alien beside him. A stray thought crept into his mind: Would alien meat be edible? Surely, it must be packed with protein¡­ As if sensing the silent, predatory gaze, a cold wind swept by, causing Lemu to shiver involuntarily. Suddenly, the voice of the Great Sage echoed in his mind. ¡°Notice: Skill acquired¡ªCold Resistance. Skill evolution in progress¡­ Combining ¡®Heat Resistance¡¯ and ¡®Cold Resistance.¡¯ New skill acquired: Thermal Resistance.¡± Lemu leaned back against a sandy hill, his hands crossed¡ªone on his stomach, the other acting as a makeshift pillow behind his head. His thoughts were restless even though his body longed for sleep. Above him, the desert sky stretched infinitely, a sprawling tapestry of stars. The familiar arch of the Milky Way swept from one end of the horizon to the other, yet he was keenly aware that this was not his home. This galaxy housed alien empires like the Kree and Nova Corps, mad titans like Thanos, and creatures he could barely imagine. It was vast, dangerous, and overwhelmingly foreign. By day, he could distract himself with clever quips and schemes to obtain Stark¡¯s iconic armor. But by night, his isolation weighed heavily on him¡ªa stark reminder that he was utterly alone in an unfamiliar universe. A sudden sneeze interrupted his thoughts. ¡°Achoo!¡± Stark¡¯s unmistakable voice broke through the stillness. Lemu turned toward him. Stark had curled up to fend off the biting cold, his once-arrogant demeanor now looking oddly vulnerable. Without a word, Lemu removed his heavy coat, revealing the thin white shirt underneath, and casually tossed it toward Stark. The genius-billionaire caught it but immediately threw it back. ¡°I don¡¯t need your charity.¡± Lemu smirked and threw it at him again. ¡°You and I aren¡¯t built the same. I can handle the cold, but you? You¡¯ll freeze to death before the cavalry shows up.¡± Stark shot him a glare but ultimately relented, wrapping himself in the coat. He muttered something under his breath, but Lemu didn¡¯t bother catching it. He simply leaned back against the hill, his smile triumphant. The desert night passed without further incident. When Lemu woke up, sunlight had painted the horizon a soft golden hue. Warm rays touched his face, signaling the start of another grueling day in the endless desert. He stretched, brushing off the sand clinging to his clothes, only to frown at the gritty sensation still sticking to his skin. Sleeping in the sand was far from pleasant, and the morning sun did little to make him feel better about it. Next to him, Stark was still asleep. He was curled tightly into a ball at the bottom of the sandy hollow he¡¯d dug the night before, the coat draped over him like a makeshift blanket. Lemu snorted. For someone so proud, Stark didn¡¯t seem above survival instincts when push came to shove. Still, Lemu couldn¡¯t deny the urgency of their situation. He combed a hand through his messy, sand-filled hair, his expression growing serious. Stark wasn¡¯t in great shape to begin with, and if rescue didn¡¯t come soon, the billionaire genius would likely succumb to starvation, dehydration, or exhaustion. And if Stark died here, the world would lose its Iron Man. No one else could design the suits that would go on to save Earth from countless threats¡ªor take down Thanos when the time came. ¡°Damn it,¡± Lemu muttered. ¡°I need to figure something out, or my Mark series dreams are toast.¡± Chapter 9: Great Sage Surfs Internet! Sleeping in this desolate wasteland was a cruel joke. Lemu woke up groggy and sore, the coarse sand refusing to let him rest. He needed a plan¡ªsome way to find help. Satellites, electromagnetic waves¡­ electricity? His amber gaze drifted to the sleeping Tony Stark. Inside that man¡¯s chest was an Arc Reactor¡ªan almost infinite power source. For a moment, a dark thought crossed Lemu¡¯s mind, ¡®If I just yoink that reactor, I¡¯d have all the juice I needed¡­¡¯ Steeling himself, he reached over and tugged the coat off Stark, giving it a brisk shake to dislodge the sand. At the last second, he hesitated. Manhandling another guy¡¯s chest rig wasn¡¯t exactly on his to-do list. Not to mention, if he stomped down just right, he could break Stark¡¯s neck in a second¡ªlooting the corpse would be so much simpler. He chuckled under his breath. ¡®Kidding just kidding, Nah¡­ friction alone can generate static electricity. Stretching, he fiddled absentmindedly with the coat¡¯s fabric. A sudden zap sparked from his fingertip. That was when the voice of the Great Sage resounded in his mind. ¡®Notice: Skills acquired¡ª¡®Electrical Resistance¡¯ and ¡®Electrical Manipulation¡¯ Lemu blinked. Using electric fields to generate electromagnetic waves¡­ if he could manipulate them, maybe he could broadcast a distress signal. ¡°Uh¡­ Great Sage? A little help here?¡± The response was immediate: ¡¯Notice: Relevant memories have been extracted and integrated into ¡®Electromagnetic Wave Communication Technology.¡¯ Would you like to connect to a satellite and broadcast your current coordinates?¡¯ Lemu¡¯s heart skipped a beat. ¡°Yes, do it.¡± ¡®Notice: Generating electromagnetic waves¡­ complete.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Simulating communication frequencies¡­ complete. Compiling communication protocol¡­ insufficient data¡­ attempting to crack¡­ protocol cracked. Connecting to communications satellite¡­ complete. Satellite coordinates acquired¡­ complete. Broadcasting current location.¡¯ Lemu¡¯s jaw dropped. He¡¯d only half-understood the science behind those steps, yet the Great Sage had executed them flawlessly¡ªand in seconds. And since the Great Sage was his skill, that meant he was technically the genius behind it all¡­ right? One more thing nagged at him, though: ¡°Great Sage, do not go browsing random stuff on the internet!¡± He remembered Ultron, the murderous AI that Tony Stark would eventually create after absorbing too much dark and twisted information from the web. Then there was Vision, whose more positive first impressions steered him toward protecting humanity instead. ¡°From now on, stick to scientific research. No creeping into shady corners of the internet, okay? We¡¯re good guys. We want to stay on the moral high ground. Understood?¡± ¡®Notice: Acknowledged.¡¯ Lemu grinned, satisfied. He tinkered with the improvised transmitter for another hour before Tony Stark finally stirred. The billionaire genius opened his bloodshot eyes, blinking at the pale-blue hair that greeted him. Lemu was crouched nearby, watching him intently. ¡°You¡¯re awake. Congratulations¡­¡± Stark just stared at him, deadpan. Congratulations for what? Clearing his throat, Lemu continued, ¡°I mean congratulations on being rescued. I used my¡­ abilities to crack your planet¡¯s electromagnetic communications. Your position is being broadcast. They should be here soon to pick you up.¡± For a moment, Stark¡¯s exhaustion melted into blank confusion. Then a flicker of hope ignited in his eyes. If Lemu had actually managed to send a signal, salvation might be closer than he had dared to imagine. Lemu gave him a nod¡ªhalf reassurance, half self-congratulation. After all, this was the Marvel Universe. Saving Tony Stark now could mean saving the entire universe later. And, of course, there was the matter of that Mark-series armor he so desperately wanted. ¡­. Tony Stark¡¯s eyes flew open wide, and in the span of a heartbeat, he bolted upright. His breathing turned ragged¡ªalmost hyperventilating¡ªas though he¡¯d just witnessed something miraculous. ¡°YES¡ª! Hahaha¡ª!¡± He caught sight of something in the far distance. Suddenly, he dropped to his knees, arms raised high above his head in a Y-shape gesture. Laughter, raw and powerful, erupted from him, laced with the near-hysteria of someone who had forgotten how to smile. In the distance, the rhythmic thrum of helicopter rotors grew steadily louder. Two U.S. military rescue choppers emerged on the horizon, beating the dry desert air as they drew closer. Tony waved frantically at the helicopters, a manic grin lighting his features. Soon, a wash of wind hit them as one of the choppers set down. A five-person team of American soldiers disembarked, led by a lean, sharp-eyed officer: Colonel James Rhodes. He was dressed in full military attire¡ªa tall, wiry Black man wearing the insignia of a U.S. Air Force officer. Above all, he was Tony Stark¡¯s best friend and confidant. The squad jogged over, slowing to a halt near Tony and Lemu. Relief flooded Rhodes¡¯s face, a blend of joy and disbelief like seeing a buddy thought lost for half a year suddenly spring back to life. He shot Tony a wry grin and teased, ¡°Having fun out here, Tony?¡± Tony shrugged, managing a tired smirk. ¡°Oh, you know, same old, same old.¡± He wrapped Rhodes in a brief hug, the kind that conveys both exasperation and gratitude. When they pulled apart, Rhodes¡¯s attention flicked to Lemu, who stood to one side. Even from a distance, Lemu was hard to miss¡ªpale-blue hair, an otherworldly aura, and an antiquated fur coat slung over one arm. Lemu raised a polite hand, offering a friendly ¡°Hi,¡± all while discreetly evaluating the newcomers. U.S. military or not, he was fairly sure he could slip away if things went south. Guns weren¡¯t lethal to his slime body, and he had plenty of tricks up his sleeve: Rapid Regeneration, Airflow Manipulation, Electrical Manipulation, not to mention Predator for changing his appearance at will. The real question was whether Tony would sell him out. Rhodes gave Lemu a polite nod, then leaned close to Tony, lowering his voice. ¡°So¡­ who¡¯s she? A pretty girl you left behind in Afghanistan all those years ago?¡± Rhodes gave Lemu a polite nod, then leaned close to Tony, lowering his voice. ¡°So¡­ who¡¯s she? A pretty girl you left behind in Afghanistan all those years ago?¡± Chapter 10: Cover Off! Rhodes gave Lemu a polite nod, then leaned close to Tony, lowering his voice. ¡°So¡­ who¡¯s she? A pretty girl you left behind in Afghanistan all those years ago?¡± Tony arched an eyebrow, clearly unamused by the implication, but he decided not to delve too deeply into explanations. With a light pat on Rhodes¡¯s shoulder, Tony answered, ¡°She¡¯s, uh¡­ a local hunter. Got captured by the same terrorist cell. We escaped together. And¡ªactually¡ª¡®she¡¯ is probably male?¡± He gestured to Lemu¡¯s old-fashioned fur coat. At first glance, Lemu certainly looked like someone who might have come from a remote mountain village¡ªif you didn¡¯t notice the pale-blue hair and unnervingly calm demeanor in a crisis. Rhodes nodded, though skepticism flickered across his face. He wasn¡¯t one to pry, especially not right then. Stark was alive, and that was more than enough good news for the moment. ¡­. A few moments later, the group boarded the helicopter. Rhodes took a seat across from Tony Stark, chattering away about everything that had happened. ¡°We¡¯ve spent months unsure if you were even alive but still combed every lead. Yesterday, we picked up traces of an explosion and went to investigate. On the way, we ran into a Ten Rings convoy and ended up in a firefight.¡± He paused, letting that sink in before adding with a smirk, ¡°Naturally, we won.¡± ¡°Then, early this morning, we suddenly received a short-wave radio message. It contained only a set of coordinates¡ªyours. Strange, don¡¯t you think? Care to shed any light on it?¡± Lemu¡¯s gaze flicked warily between the pilot and one of the U.S. soldiers sitting opposite him. Including Rhodes and the pilot, there were five people on board. If push comes to shove, I can handle them¡­ he thought. Before Stark could speak, Lemu jumped in, ¡°Because Tony Stark is a genius. Not only did he build an exoskeleton suit from scratch to help us escape, he also used the leftover parts from the Ten Rings base to assemble a makeshift transmitter¡ªthough it burned out after one use.¡± The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°An exoskeleton suit? A transmitter?¡± Rhodes narrowed his eyes at the pair. Just then, Stark slapped both palms together with an emphatic smack, making everyone on board jump. He grinned from ear to ear, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. ¡°Hah! What can I say? I¡¯m a genius. Geniuses do what average people can¡¯t¡ªlike dismantling a terrorist stronghold or building a working transceiver out of scrap metal. Ask anyone; I was making circuit boards at four years old!¡± Rhodes frowned, clearly baffled by Tony¡¯s excitement. Why¡¯s he so keyed up all of a sudden? By the time they arrived at the U.S. military base in Afghanistan, the tension had eased¡ªbut not completely. Throughout the trip, Lemu¡¯s true identity and abilities remained under wraps. As long as Stark stayed quiet, no one would suspect that there was an inhuman existence among them. Naturally, Rhodes sensed that Tony and Lemu were hiding something. There were far too many odd details to ignore¡ªlike how some ¡°Afghan hunter¡± could speak fluent English without a trace of an accent. Still, Rhodes trusted his best friend enough not to press. Besides, Lemu looked harmless enough, despite the pale-blue hair and odd attire. At the base, army medics gave Stark a quick patch-up. While he was being tended to, Lemu explored the area. To him, it felt like stepping into a new world¡ªhelicopters, armored vehicles, anti-aircraft missiles, and even two F-22 Raptor fighter jets. High-tech machinery everywhere he looked. For someone who had lived¡ªor respawned¡ªas a slime in an unfamiliar universe, it was both exciting and intimidating at the same time. ¡­. Security at the U.S. base was strict, with armed personnel watching every nook and cranny. Yet, thanks to Tony Stark¡¯s connections, Lemu was allowed to wander freely¡ªuntil he tried to get his hands on any live ammunition. That was where the line was drawn. A more timid soul might have hesitated, worried about crossing boundaries in a military stronghold, but this slime-turned-human knew the power of acting confident¡ªeven brazen. The result: he strolled around the base unimpeded, passing under the noses of guards who barely gave him a second glance. He also noted something curious: his appearance drastically lowered most people¡¯s guard. A tilt of the head, a slight pout, a big-eyed look of innocence¡ªhe found these gestures could spark sympathy or even mild guilt in others. It helps that most people are suckers for a pretty face, Lemu mused, remembering how a well-timed doleful look got him waved past an armed checkpoint only minutes earlier. After Tony¡¯s injuries were patched up, he, Lemu, and Colonel Rhodes boarded a plane bound for sunny California. More than ten hours later, they arrived at a spacious airport where two individuals awaited them. One was Tony Stark¡¯s personal assistant, Pepper Potts¡ªnicknamed ¡°Pepper.¡± The other was a broad-shouldered man who served as driver and occasional bodyguard. Pepper¡¯s name might suggest a spicy personality, but in truth, she was the opposite. Beneath her sharp, professional exterior lay a warm and caring disposition. She wore her blonde hair tied back, complementing the tailored women¡¯s business suit she¡¯d chosen for the day. As Tony stepped off the plane, Pepper¡¯s eyes shone with relieved tears. He gently shook off Rhodes¡¯s supporting arm and walked over to her, scanning her face. ¡°You¡¯re crying? Mourning a long-lost boss?¡± Pepper smiled through her tears. ¡°I¡¯m just¡­ so happy you¡¯re okay. And I hate job hunting.¡± Tony¡¯s lips quirked up in a soft grin. ¡°Yeah, well, your vacation¡¯s over.¡± Pepper peeked around him and noticed Lemu standing there. For a moment, she took a steadying breath, calming the surge of emotions from seeing Tony safe. Then she managed a gentle smile for Lemu. ¡°You haven¡¯t introduced us. Who¡¯s your friend?¡± Tony raised a hand, gesturing for everyone to head toward the waiting car. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ complicated, Ms. Potts. We can talk about it later.¡± Lemu and Pepper exchanged small waves¡ªan unspoken greeting¡ªbefore the group made their way to the vehicle. Chapter 11: Obadiah! Seated at the driver¡¯s position was a large, muscular Caucasian man: Happy Hogan. He was Tony¡¯s chauffeur and part-time bodyguard. In Lemu¡¯s memories¡ªof future events, no less¡ªHappy would go on to have a close relationship with Spider-Man¡¯s Peter Parker, acting almost like an uncle figure. Now, though, he looked more fit than chubby, with a firm build that spoke of his boxing background. ¡°Where to, sir?¡± Happy asked, glancing at Tony in the rearview mirror. ¡°Three things,¡± Tony said with a decisive nod. ¡°First, get us some cheeseburgers. Pepper, arrange a press conference. And let¡¯s make sure this little hitchhiker¡±¡ªhe looked at Lemu¡ª¡°gets somewhere to wash up and change.¡± Tony¡¯s gaze settled on Lemu again. ¡°After that, you and I need to talk. Something important.¡± Pepper frowned slightly. ¡°A press conference? For what?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll get into it on the way, Pep,¡± Tony replied, lightly tapping the metal arc reactor on his chest. The hollow clang resonated in the enclosed space. ¡°Happy, step on it. I¡¯ll explain everything once we¡¯re on the road.¡± ¡­. Stark Industries¡ªa multinational American corporation, listed under the ticker symbol SIA on the NYSE and STRK on NASDAQ. Founded in the 1940s by Howard Stark, it began as a weapons manufacturer built on a simple philosophy: ¡°Peace means having the biggest stick.¡± This was Howard Stark¡¯s creed. For two generations, the Stark family¡ªHoward and his son, Tony¡ªproudly proclaimed themselves patriots and protectors of peace. Yet, their pride often veered into arrogance. Both believed in their own vision of the world and dismissed anything that contradicted it. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Then there was Obadiah Stane, Stark Industries¡¯ senior executive and Howard¡¯s former business partner. Obadiah cared little for ideals like peace. His devotion lay with two things¡ªwealth and power. In the early days, he and Howard had fought tooth and nail to establish Stark Industries, enduring hardship and sacrificing comfort to build an empire from the ground up. Obadiah had been the sharpest blade and the strongest spear, cutting through opposition and driving away predators. He had fought in the blood-soaked trenches of corporate warfare, seizing opportunities and eliminating rivals. He was a kingmaker¡ªand he knew it. And the results spoke for themselves. Now in his sixties, Obadiah had everything most men could ever dream of¡ªimmense wealth, respect, and influence. But one thing still eluded him. Absolute power. With Tony Stark presumed dead, Obadiah had finally gotten a taste of what that felt like. For months, he had effectively ruled Stark Industries. From the comfort of the CEO¡¯s office, he enjoyed fine cigars and top-shelf whiskey, flipping through reports and magazines while the company¡¯s profits continued to pour in by the minute. It was a perfect life¡ªor so he thought. That morning, his world came crashing down. Tony Stark wasn¡¯t dead. Not only that¡ªhe was coming home. Today. The news hit Obadiah like a bombshell, shattering the serenity of his carefully curated kingdom. His expression darkened as he slammed his magazine onto the desk and crushed his half-smoked cigar against the keyboard, leaving a trail of ash and smoke curling through the air. A snarl twisted his lips. Why? Why did you have to survive? Who the hell do you think you are, Tony Stark? Stark Industries¡ªthis empire¡ªwas his creation. Obadiah Stane¡¯s legacy. The throne belonged to him. Only to him. Stark Industries Headquarters The front entrance of Stark Industries buzzed with activity. Executives, employees, journalists, and curious bystanders filled the space, forming a sea of people eager to witness Tony Stark¡¯s dramatic return. Reporters jostled for position, cameras flashed, and murmurs rippled through the crowd. Leading the welcoming committee was Obadiah Stane himself, standing front and center. The older man wore a carefully practiced smile, radiating warmth and charm. His tailored suit fit like a second skin, his polished shoes gleamed, and his round sunglasses gave him an effortlessly cool demeanor. His bald head practically shone under the California sun, framed by a full, snow-white beard that gave him an air of wisdom and authority. To an outsider, he looked every bit the benevolent patriarch¡ªwelcoming his prodigal heir with open arms. But behind the mask of geniality, Obadiah¡¯s mind churned. I built this empire. You¡¯re not taking it from me. Obadiah Stane was the picture of a proud, cool-headed elder¡ªthe kind of relative everyone wished they had. He exuded charisma, effortlessly blending warmth with authority. When Tony Stark stepped out of the car, Obadiah jogged toward him with surprising agility for a man his age, his arms waving animatedly as though showing off his long-lost son to the crowd. ¡°Look who¡¯s back!¡± The gathered crowd erupted into applause, their cheers echoing through the courtyard. Cameras flashed as reporters captured the moment, immortalizing the return of Stark Industries¡¯ prodigal heir. Obadiah spun dramatically, throwing his arms wide before pulling Tony into a bear hug. ¡°Tony! I thought you¡¯d still be in a hospital bed. Look at you¡ªbetter than ever!¡± For all his theatrics, Obadiah¡¯s embrace was met with an icy reception. Stark stood stiffly, his face blank. He had known Obadiah for years, but this sudden flood of affection felt overplayed. Tony didn¡¯t bother to hide his discomfort. He simply tolerated the hug until Obadiah let go. Meanwhile, Happy Hogan handed Tony a paper bag filled with cheeseburgers. Obadiah spotted it and grinned. ¡°Oh, burgers! Did you bring one for me too?¡± Tony shot him a deadpan look as he strode toward the building¡¯s entrance. ¡°Uh¡­ sorry, last one. All mine.¡± Obadiah laughed, brushing it off as Tony disappeared into the building, where reporters had been waiting impatiently for hours. Chapter 12: Others! Meanwhile, with Pepper and Lemu¡­ Pepper Potts had already arranged the press conference and was now driving Lemu back to Stark¡¯s mansion. Seated in the passenger seat, Lemu was halfway through his fourth cheeseburger. His cheeks bulged slightly, resembling a squirrel hoarding food for the winter. Pepper glanced at him, mildly astonished. The kid looked delicate¡ªalmost too small to be devouring burgers like he hadn¡¯t eaten in weeks. Which, technically, might have been true. Still, there was something endearing about the sight. With a gentle smile, Pepper greeted him, careful to keep her tone soft. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Pepper¡ªPepper Potts. I¡¯m Tony¡¯s personal assistant. And you are?¡± Lemu swallowed quickly, brushing crumbs off his shirt before flashing her a cheerful grin. His slightly pointed canines¡ªjust sharp enough to stand out¡ªcaught her eye. ¡°Lemu Echeverr¨ªa,¡± he replied. ¡°I¡¯m the son of a hunter back in Afghanistan. Got kidnapped by terrorists, but Stark and I broke out together.¡± Pepper studied him for a moment. His bright smile and amber eyes gave him an air of innocence¡ªlike sunlight breaking through storm clouds. There was something unshakably genuine about him, and Pepper found herself believing the story more than she should have. ¡°What about your family?¡± she asked gently. ¡°Didn¡¯t they come with you to the U.S.?¡± For a fraction of a second, Lemu¡¯s expression faltered. It was barely noticeable, but Pepper caught it. Then he smiled again, shrugging lightly. ¡°Nope. It¡¯s just me now.¡± ¡­. ¡°Hmm¡­ they¡¯re all dead.¡± Lemu said it so casually that it took Pepper a moment to process his words. To him, it was simple logic¡ªhumans had short lifespans. He had been trapped in that dark, timeless void for what felt like centuries. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. By now, everyone he once knew was almost certainly long gone. It was just a fact, spoken without emotion. But Pepper¡¯s heart sank. Her chest tightened, guilt gnawing at her for bringing up such a painful subject. She opened her mouth, searching for the right words, but nothing came out. I shouldn¡¯t have asked¡­ The story she filled in her head¡ªof a young girl whose family had been slaughtered by terrorists, leaving her the sole survivor¡ªmade her heart ache even more. And yet, here Lemu was, still smiling, still cheerful, despite it all. Pepper¡¯s eyes grew warm, a soft mist blurring her vision. She reached out without thinking, gently ruffling Lemu¡¯s pale-blue hair. It wasn¡¯t smooth; grains of sand still clung to the strands, but that only made him seem more fragile¡ªmore deserving of care. Lemu froze mid-bite, clutching the half-eaten burger in his arms like a dragon hoarding treasure. His golden eyes darted up at her, wary. What¡¯s with the sudden head-patting? ¡­. I am Phil Coulson. I work for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. Yes, that¡¯s the actual name. And no, we don¡¯t have a shorter version. I¡¯ve been with this ridiculously long-named agency for over twenty years now. Twenty years ago, I was an agent. Today, I¡¯m still an agent. In those years, I¡¯ve served under Nick Fury¡ªhardworking, reliable, and completely unshakable. I watched myself go from full, dark hair to thinning patches, while Fury climbed the ranks to become Director. Time spares no one, huh? I¡¯d like to think I¡¯m a veteran at this point¡ªcalm under pressure, professional to a fault, and just the right amount of charming. Today¡¯s assignment? Investigate the alleged illegal arms trafficking involving Stark Industries¡ªAmerica¡¯s largest weapons manufacturer. Oh, and gather intel on how billionaire Tony Stark miraculously escaped Afghanistan. Simple enough. Or so I thought. The thing about billionaires? They¡¯re never easy to deal with. And the people around them? Just as difficult. Take Pepper Potts¡ªTony¡¯s personal assistant. According to the file, she seemed like someone I could approach easily. Friendly, cooperative, and professional. Except she wasn¡¯t here. She had apparently left the building hours ago. Which left me to deal with Happy Hogan¡ªTony¡¯s chauffeur and part-time bodyguard. That¡¯s how I ended up in this current predicament. ¡­. Happy Hogan leaned through the driver¡¯s-side window, one thick hand grabbing the collar of my suit. The smell of grease and melted cheese hit me in the face as he yelled¡ªloud enough to rattle my eardrums. ¡°NO COMMENT!!¡± The guy had a burger breath. I swear, if I survive this interrogation-by-volume, I¡¯m filing for hazard pay. ¡­. I am Happy Hogan. Bodyguard first, driver second. And right now? Protector of secrets. My job isn¡¯t just about keeping my employer alive¡ªit¡¯s about safeguarding everything tied to his name, including whatever scandal might come knocking. For example, the fact that Tony Stark may have brought back a secret daughter from Afghanistan? Yeah, that¡¯s staying under wraps. No leaks, no rumors¡ªnothing that could cause him trouble. As his friend, I¡¯m genuinely happy for him. Tony¡¯s been drifting through life alone for years. Maybe now, with this girl around, he¡¯ll finally settle down. I could see it in his eyes¡ªTony¡¯s changed. He¡¯s steadier, more grounded. Maybe this is what he needed all along. ¡­. Pepper Potts and Lemu finally arrived at Stark¡¯s Malibu beachfront mansion. It wasn¡¯t until Pepper stepped through the front door that the realization hit her¡ªshe had forgotten to buy Lemu a change of clothes. The day had been an emotional rollercoaster. Relief and joy over Tony¡¯s safe return, followed by stress and chaos as she scrambled to organize his surprise press conference. Her head felt like it had been squeezed in a vice. Now, standing in the sleek, modern villa, the oversight felt like the cherry on top of an already hectic day. Pepper tapped her forehead lightly, berating herself for the lapse. Still, she composed herself quickly, ushering Lemu inside and pointing toward the bathroom. ¡°You can wash up first,¡± she said softly, trying to mask her lingering frazzled nerves. ¡°There should be some fresh towels in vacuum-sealed packs in there. Just grab one.¡± It wasn¡¯t surprising that Stark¡¯s home had an abundance of towels and toiletries. Given his history of bringing women back to the mansion, Pepper had made sure everything was stocked to avoid awkward situations. Chapter 13: Adorable! Pepper¡¯s voice floated back almost immediately. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Don¡¯t like the clothes?¡± Footsteps approached. Pepper rounded the corner and stopped short. Lemu stood half-hidden behind the bathroom door, only his damp, flushed face and a bit of bare shoulder visible above the oversized towel. His wet hair clung to his cheeks, and his hesitant, almost shy demeanor hit Pepper like an arrow straight through the heart. Her breath caught. Too cute. Some things in this world were so overwhelmingly adorable that they left people drowning in sweetness¡ªand this was one of them. Pepper¡¯s voice softened instinctively, as though speaking too loudly might scare the poor thing away. ¡°It¡¯s okay, sweetheart. What¡¯s wrong?¡± Lemu fidgeted slightly, tugging the towel higher. ¡°It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t like them. It¡¯s just¡­ uh¡­¡± He hesitated before blurting out the rest. ¡°I¡¯m a guy.¡± Pepper blinked. Then blinked again. She tilted her head, examining Lemu critically¡ªten seconds, then twenty. ¡°¡­Really?¡± Her tone was less disbelief and more gentle skepticism, as if trying to humor someone insisting the earth was flat. ¡°Seriously,¡± Lemu protested, his voice growing softer. ¡°Can you¡­ please just get me a set of men¡¯s clothes?¡± Desperate to seal the deal, he widened his amber eyes and gazed up at her with the most pleading look he could muster. Pepper¡¯s composure shattered instantly. She nodded so fast it was a wonder her neck didn¡¯t snap. ¡°Of course! I¡¯ll be back in no time!¡± She spun on her heel and hurried out the door, her car peeling out of the driveway moments later.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Lemu exhaled deeply, sagging against the doorframe. Thank god. Still, he couldn¡¯t help but glance at his reflection one more time. ¡­Nope. That outfit and this form were a disaster waiting to happen. He¡¯d have to be more careful with his transformations in the future. With Pepper gone and time to kill, Lemu made his way to the living room, the bath towel still securely fastened. For now, the mansion was empty. And that, at least, was a small relief. ¡­. The living room opened up to a panoramic view of the ocean, separated only by a vast glass wall. Through it, the endless stretch of blue seemed to blend seamlessly with the horizon, and if Lemu strained his ears, he could just barely hear the rhythmic crashing of waves. The space radiated comfort¡ªplush sofas lined up neatly against the wall, a fireplace resting unlit, and musical instruments scattered about, including a grand piano, a guitar, and a violin. Despite its grandeur, the room felt lived-in, like a place someone actually called home. On the coffee table sat a massive bag of snacks¡ªeasily over ten kilograms¡¯ worth of treats. High-end brands, too. Pepper¡¯s seriously the best. Lemu thought, sizing up the haul. Buying snacks by the kilo? Now that¡¯s a friend for life. Flopping down onto one of the sofas, Lemu set the bath towel aside and began surveying the loot. Suddenly, the soft whirr of wheels interrupted the quiet. A small mechanical arm rolled up, clutching a glass of water in its gripper. It stopped a respectful distance away and extended the glass. Lemu blinked. ¡°Wait¡­ is this that dumb robot?¡± ¡®Notice: Dummy. Word meaning ¡®fool¡¯ or ¡®dummy,¡¯ the Great Sage chimed in. ¡°Oh! You¡¯re Dummy?¡± Lemu grinned, taking the water. The robot made a slight squeak, its arm lowering in what seemed to be disappointment. Its mechanical claw drooped like a sulking puppy. Unable to resist, Lemu patted Dummy¡¯s arm before popping open the snack bag. He poured himself a glass of yogurt, nibbled on a cookie, and¡ªfeeling generous¡ªhanded Dummy a piece of chocolate. Of course, the robot couldn¡¯t eat it, but that wasn¡¯t the point. Yet something still felt off. Maybe it was the outfit¡ªor rather, the skirt. Lemu had been feeling¡­ different since earlier. The usual sharpness in his demeanor seemed dulled. He felt softer somehow¡ªlike the skirt had infected his very personality. Normally, showing any sign of weakness¡ªlet alone asking for help in a half-sulking, half-pleading tone¡ªwas completely out of character. Ugh. He sighed. Guess everyone has at least one or two embarrassing chapters in their lives. And if anyone dared bring it up later? Well, burying witnesses was always an option. Still, the breeziness of the skirt made him acutely aware of how¡­ empty things felt between his legs. He shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. Distraction. I need a distraction. ¡°Dummy, is there a computer or a TV around here?¡± Before Dummy could respond, a rich, smooth male voice filled the room. ¡°The screen has been activated for your use. The touchpad on the table can access both computer and television functions.¡± Lemu nearly jumped out of his seat, instinctively reaching for a weapon he didn¡¯t have. The enormous glass wall facing the ocean lit up, transforming into a massive display. ¡°Oh, right¡­ Jarvis.¡± Tony Stark¡¯s famous AI assistant. Lemu leaned back, exhaling slowly as the adrenaline wore off. It wasn¡¯t like he could forget that this house had another ¡®resident¡¯¡ªone that lived in the walls, saw everything, and had a voice like velvet-wrapped steel. ¡°Uh, thanks, Jarvis.¡± ¡°You¡¯re welcome, sir.¡± The screen flickered, displaying a sleek, modern interface filled with options¡ªnews channels, research databases, internet browsing. It was state-of-the-art technology, and it was all his to use. For the first time since entering this world, Lemu let himself relax, just a little. But as his eyes skimmed through the endless data streams, a new thought took root¡ªa wild, ridiculous, yet completely plausible thought. What if I didn¡¯t just use this stuff? What if I owned it? The mansion, the AI, the cutting-edge labs, the army of robots¡ªwhat if it all belonged to him? Lemu smirked, tossing another cookie into his mouth. Tony Stark, you better hold onto your company tight. Because someday? It might just end up with my name on the logo. J.A.R.V.I.S.¡ªTony Stark¡¯s personal artificial intelligence. Chapter 14: J.A.R.V.I.S.! Pepper¡¯s voice floated back almost immediately. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Don¡¯t like the clothes?¡± Footsteps approached. Pepper rounded the corner and stopped short. Lemu stood half-hidden behind the bathroom door, only his damp, flushed face and a bit of bare shoulder visible above the oversized towel. His wet hair clung to his cheeks, and his hesitant, almost shy demeanor hit Pepper like an arrow straight through the heart. Her breath caught. Too cute. Some things in this world were so overwhelmingly adorable that they left people drowning in sweetness¡ªand this was one of them. Pepper¡¯s voice softened instinctively, as though speaking too loudly might scare the poor thing away. ¡°It¡¯s okay, sweetheart. What¡¯s wrong?¡± Lemu fidgeted slightly, tugging the towel higher. ¡°It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t like them. It¡¯s just¡­ uh¡­¡± He hesitated before blurting out the rest. ¡°I¡¯m a guy.¡± Pepper blinked. Then blinked again. She tilted her head, examining Lemu critically¡ªten seconds, then twenty. ¡°¡­Really?¡± Her tone was less disbelief and more gentle skepticism, as if trying to humor someone insisting the earth was flat. ¡°Seriously,¡± Lemu protested, his voice growing softer. ¡°Can you¡­ please just get me a set of men¡¯s clothes?¡± Desperate to seal the deal, he widened his amber eyes and gazed up at her with the most pleading look he could muster. Pepper¡¯s composure shattered instantly. She nodded so fast it was a wonder her neck didn¡¯t snap. ¡°Of course! I¡¯ll be back in no time!¡± She spun on her heel and hurried out the door, her car peeling out of the driveway moments later.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Lemu exhaled deeply, sagging against the doorframe. Thank god. Still, he couldn¡¯t help but glance at his reflection one more time. ¡­Nope. That outfit and this form were a disaster waiting to happen. He¡¯d have to be more careful with his transformations in the future. With Pepper gone and time to kill, Lemu made his way to the living room, the bath towel still securely fastened. For now, the mansion was empty. And that, at least, was a small relief. ¡­. The living room opened up to a panoramic view of the ocean, separated only by a vast glass wall. Through it, the endless stretch of blue seemed to blend seamlessly with the horizon, and if Lemu strained his ears, he could just barely hear the rhythmic crashing of waves. The space radiated comfort¡ªplush sofas lined up neatly against the wall, a fireplace resting unlit, and musical instruments scattered about, including a grand piano, a guitar, and a violin. Despite its grandeur, the room felt lived-in, like a place someone actually called home. On the coffee table sat a massive bag of snacks¡ªeasily over ten kilograms¡¯ worth of treats. High-end brands, too. Pepper¡¯s seriously the best. Lemu thought, sizing up the haul. Buying snacks by the kilo? Now that¡¯s a friend for life. Flopping down onto one of the sofas, Lemu set the bath towel aside and began surveying the loot. Suddenly, the soft whirr of wheels interrupted the quiet. A small mechanical arm rolled up, clutching a glass of water in its gripper. It stopped a respectful distance away and extended the glass. Lemu blinked. ¡°Wait¡­ is this that dumb robot?¡± ¡®Notice: Dummy. Word meaning ¡®fool¡¯ or ¡®dummy,¡¯ the Great Sage chimed in. ¡°Oh! You¡¯re Dummy?¡± Lemu grinned, taking the water. The robot made a slight squeak, its arm lowering in what seemed to be disappointment. Its mechanical claw drooped like a sulking puppy. Unable to resist, Lemu patted Dummy¡¯s arm before popping open the snack bag. He poured himself a glass of yogurt, nibbled on a cookie, and¡ªfeeling generous¡ªhanded Dummy a piece of chocolate. Of course, the robot couldn¡¯t eat it, but that wasn¡¯t the point. Yet something still felt off. Maybe it was the outfit¡ªor rather, the skirt. Lemu had been feeling¡­ different since earlier. The usual sharpness in his demeanor seemed dulled. He felt softer somehow¡ªlike the skirt had infected his very personality. Normally, showing any sign of weakness¡ªlet alone asking for help in a half-sulking, half-pleading tone¡ªwas completely out of character. Ugh. He sighed. Guess everyone has at least one or two embarrassing chapters in their lives. And if anyone dared bring it up later? Well, burying witnesses was always an option. Still, the breeziness of the skirt made him acutely aware of how¡­ empty things felt between his legs. He shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. Distraction. I need a distraction. ¡°Dummy, is there a computer or a TV around here?¡± Before Dummy could respond, a rich, smooth male voice filled the room. ¡°The screen has been activated for your use. The touchpad on the table can access both computer and television functions.¡± Lemu nearly jumped out of his seat, instinctively reaching for a weapon he didn¡¯t have. The enormous glass wall facing the ocean lit up, transforming into a massive display. ¡°Oh, right¡­ Jarvis.¡± Tony Stark¡¯s famous AI assistant. Lemu leaned back, exhaling slowly as the adrenaline wore off. It wasn¡¯t like he could forget that this house had another ¡®resident¡¯¡ªone that lived in the walls, saw everything, and had a voice like velvet-wrapped steel. ¡°Uh, thanks, Jarvis.¡± ¡°You¡¯re welcome, sir.¡± The screen flickered, displaying a sleek, modern interface filled with options¡ªnews channels, research databases, internet browsing. It was state-of-the-art technology, and it was all his to use. For the first time since entering this world, Lemu let himself relax, just a little. But as his eyes skimmed through the endless data streams, a new thought took root¡ªa wild, ridiculous, yet completely plausible thought. What if I didn¡¯t just use this stuff? What if I owned it? The mansion, the AI, the cutting-edge labs, the army of robots¡ªwhat if it all belonged to him? Lemu smirked, tossing another cookie into his mouth. Tony Stark, you better hold onto your company tight. Because someday? It might just end up with my name on the logo. J.A.R.V.I.S.¡ªTony Stark¡¯s personal artificial intelligence. Chapter 15: Acquiring 1.3 Million Skills! J.A.R.V.I.S.¡ªTony Stark¡¯s personal artificial intelligence. What began as a basic interactive interface eventually evolved into a highly advanced AI, capable of independent thought and even battling the likes of Ultron. Its name served a dual purpose¡ªhonoring Edwin Jarvis, Howard Stark¡¯s loyal butler, and doubling as an acronym for Just A Rather Very Intelligent System. Naturally, Lemu couldn¡¯t help but wonder¡ªbetween J.A.R.V.I.S. and his Great Sage, which AI was superior? Magic versus technology. Fantasy versus science. The idea stirred a competitive itch in his chest. What would happen if they ever faced off? Would the mechanical precision of J.A.R.V.I.S. outmaneuver the seemingly omnipotent calculations of the Great Sage? Flipping through TV channels absentmindedly, Lemu was about to dismiss the thought when the Great Sage chimed in. ¡®Notice: As requested, integration of all human scientific knowledge is complete. Would you like a report on newly acquired skills?¡¯ Lemu nearly choked on his drink. ¡®Wait¡ªwhen did I ask for that?¡¯ ¡®Notice: Request logged 19 hours and 26 minutes ago. Location: Earth¡ªAfghanistan. Coordinates¡ª¡® He scratched his head. Okay, maybe he had mentioned something like that. The Great Sage didn¡¯t make mistakes, after all. ¡°Fine, let¡¯s hear it.¡± ¡®Notice: Acquired skills include¡ª Metal smelting techniques. Mechanical design and manufacturing. ¡­ Nuclear engineering. ¡­ Computer programming. Cybersecurity and information warfare. ¡­ Aircraft design and manufacturing. ¡­ Wildlife conservation. ¡­¡¯Stolen novel; please report. Lemu¡¯s jaw dropped. Minutes ticked by as the Great Sage continued its endless recital. What began as excitement quickly gave way to numbness. ¡°Stop! Stop!¡± He slumped back against the couch, clutching his head. So this is the power of human science? Lemu took a shaky breath, feeling equal parts awe and dread. The Great Sage had officially ascended to god-tier. ¡°Just give me the total number of skills.¡± ¡®Notice: Current skill count¡ª1,368,459.¡¯ He had started with eight. Now? One point three million. Lemu¡¯s eyes gleamed with excitement. I¡¯ve done it. I¡¯ve reached the top. Half of humanity¡¯s knowledge is in the palm of my hand! ¡°Blood and flesh are weak. Technology is the path to ascension! The future is mine!¡± Before he could lose himself completely in the euphoria, the television¡¯s audio drew his attention. ¡°Breaking News: Tony Stark Returns¡ªAnnounces Immediate Shutdown of Weapons Division.¡± The words snapped Lemu out of his thoughts. He turned toward the giant screen, where a live feed from Stark¡¯s press conference played. Tony sat on the stage floor, casually leaning against the podium. With a half-eaten burger in hand and a solemn expression, he spoke into the microphone. The camera zoomed in, capturing the tension in the air. ¡­. Tony Stark stood in front of the press, his voice steady but carrying the weight of conviction. ¡°I never got to say goodbye to my father. Never had the chance to ask him the questions that have haunted me¡ªthe questions I should have asked when I had the time.¡± He paused, scanning the expectant faces before him. ¡°I wanted to ask him how he felt about what he built¡ªwhether he ever doubted himself, whether he ever felt conflicted about the legacy he left behind.¡± Stark¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze hardening. ¡°And maybe he was exactly as the media described him¡ªa patriot, a protector of peace.¡± His voice dropped lower, yet each word struck like a hammer. ¡°But I¡¯ve seen young men die. Die because of weapons I built¡ªweapons meant to protect them.¡± Suddenly, Tony straightened, his eyes burning with determination as he raised his voice. ¡°I¡¯ve woken up.¡± The declaration silenced the murmuring crowd. ¡°I realized that my contribution to this world cannot and will not be limited to creating tools of destruction. And for that reason¡ªeffective immediately¡ªStark Industries will shut down its weapons manufacturing division.¡± A thunderclap couldn¡¯t have caused more chaos. The press conference erupted into shouts, questions, and disbelief. Cameras flashed, journalists scrambled, and the gathered crowd turned into a churning sea of voices. Obadiah Stane, standing stiffly to the side, barely managed to keep up the pretense of calm. He forced a tight-lipped smile, already maneuvering to smooth things over. But Tony wasn¡¯t done. His final words were almost drowned out by the uproar: ¡°Until I can decide what direction this company should take, it will be one that aligns with my conscience¡ªand serves the best interests of this country and the world.¡± ¡­. Forty minutes later, back in Malibu¡­ Lemu leaned back on the couch, one hand propping up his chin as the broadcast ended. The earlier excitement bubbling inside him had simmered down. Now, only amusement remained. With a dramatic flourish, he wiped an imaginary tear from his eye, his voice heavy with mock sincerity. ¡°How touching. Is this the birth of a many people superhero? Turning against profit and corruption to lead his company down a righteous path¡ªfor the nation, for the people!¡± He placed a hand over his chest, as though delivering a heartfelt soliloquy. ¡°Tony Stark¡ªproof that even billionaires can have hearts of gold! Hearts that burn as brightly as their arc reactors! And yet, all the public cares about is stocks, stocks, stocks! Money, money, money! So shallow, so vulgar!¡± Then he dropped the act, his lips curling into a smirk. ¡°Not that money isn¡¯t important.¡± The sarcasm lingered, but his mind was already moving ahead. Stocks crashing? Panic-selling? This was the kind of opportunity that only came once in a lifetime. Sure, Tony Stark had just shaken up the corporate world, but it wasn¡¯t like his genius had disappeared. As long as he stayed alive¡ªand eventually Wear that iron suit¡ªStark Industries would bounce back stronger than ever. And that wasn¡¯t even counting the arc reactor. Stark¡¯s miniaturized reactor technology wasn¡¯t just a game-changer for energy production¡ªit was a goldmine waiting to be tapped. With this much potential, Stark Industries¡¯ stock were falling and going to fall even more¡ª but not for long¡­ Chapter: $13.57 Billion USD! This moment¡ªright here, right now¡ªwas the golden window for buying up Stark Industries stock. Over the next few months, the fallout from Tony Stark¡¯s announcement would send prices plummeting, making it the perfect opportunity to swoop in and secure shares at rock-bottom prices. The only problem? Lemu was flat broke. Not a single cent to his name. He even owed Pepper money for clothes. But lack of funds wasn¡¯t a dealbreaker¡ªjust an obstacle. After all, this was the Marvel Universe. In Avengers: Age of Ultron, the AI villain Ultron had hijacked online accounts and funneled billions into purchasing vibranium. All it took was a few keystrokes. Of course, there were risks¡ªlaundering stolen money wasn¡¯t exactly legal. Spending it without raising red flags? Even harder. On top of that, Marvel¡¯s world was crawling with tech geniuses and AI watchdogs. Sooner or later, someone would trace it back. No, the smarter play wasn¡¯t to go all-in with theft. It was to use the stolen funds as seed money¡ªjust enough to get started. Once the initial capital was laundered and funneled into legal channels, the rest would come through legitimate investments. Stocks, dividends, and reinvestments¡ªmoney growing money. Sure, the Great Sage could theoretically monetize its vast technical knowledge, but that route required time, infrastructure, and patience. For now, this plan was the fastest path to financial freedom. Let¡¯s do this. Lemu gulped down the rest of his yogurt, his earlier hesitation melting away. ¡°Great Sage, locate and extract funds from criminal networks. Filter and launder them through shell companies and virtual identities. Make sure the trails are clean.¡± ¡°Divert most of the funds into Stark Industries stock¡ªsplit purchases across multiple accounts to avoid attention. Use the rest for diversified investments in promising sectors.¡± ¡®Notice: Task in progress¡­ Task complete.¡¯ Lemu nearly choked on his next bite of cookie. ¡°Wait¡ªalready?¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡®Notice: Total funds acquired¡ª$13.57 billion USD. Laundering process underway. Investments proceeding as directed.¡¯ Thirteen billion. Lemu leaned back, staring at the ceiling as a wave of relief washed over him. Wealth was more than just security¡ªit was power. No more worrying about survival. No more being at the mercy of others. With this foundation, he could stand tall, untouchable, while the world danced to his tune. For the first time since arriving in this universe, he felt rooted. As though he belonged here. Money really does solve most problems, Lemu thought, letting a smug smile creep across his face. ¡­. Meanwhile, on a Rooftop Across Town¡­ The wind on the rooftop was gentle, but Phil Coulson barely noticed. The chaos from Stark¡¯s press conference had died down somewhat, yet the hum of conversation still lingered in the streets below. None of it mattered to him. Coulson wasn¡¯t a reporter, and he wasn¡¯t here for stock news. He was here because this was his job. A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent with over two decades of experience didn¡¯t waste time on fluff. Right now, his priority was compiling a preliminary report for Director Nick Fury. Stark Industries wasn¡¯t just another weapons manufacturer¡ªit was the biggest weapons manufacturer in the United States. Its sudden pivot away from arms production raised red flags all the way to the Pentagon. The possibility of weapons leaking onto the black market was exactly why Fury was keeping such a close eye on the situation. Coulson¡¯s encrypted phone buzzed. Fury¡¯s voice came through the secure line, low and steady. ¡°Coulson. Status update.¡± ¡°Stark¡¯s alive¡ªand officially a loose cannon,¡± Coulson replied. ¡°Held a press conference earlier today announcing he¡¯s shutting down the weapons division. Stock¡¯s already in freefall.¡± Fury¡¯s voice darkened. ¡°I saw the broadcast. What¡¯s your assessment?¡± Coulson hesitated before answering. ¡°Stark¡¯s changed. He¡¯s not playing by anyone¡¯s rules anymore¡ªnot ours, not the government¡¯s, not even his own board of directors. If he sticks to this path, he could destabilize global arms markets. Or worse¡ªleave a power vacuum someone else will fill.¡± There was a brief pause on the line before Fury spoke again. ¡°Keep an eye on him. And Coulson? Dig deeper. Find out if there¡¯s anyone unusual around Stark. I¡¯ve got a hunch there¡¯s more to this story than meets the eye.¡± Coulson¡¯s eyes narrowed. Unusual? His mind immediately flashed to that odd teenager who¡¯d been with Stark earlier. The one with the blue hair and mismatched clothes. He¡¯d brushed it off at the time¡ªan innocent kid Stark had picked up during his escape. But now? Now, he wasn¡¯t so sure. ¡­. ¡°Agent Coulson, update me on your progress.¡± Coulson pressed his lips together, giving himself a brief moment to prepare his answer. ¡°Yes, Boss. I¡¯ve gathered some promising leads after speaking with Tony Stark¡¯s driver, Happy Hogan. Unfortunately, Happy¡¯s just a driver, so his intel is limited.¡± He paused, ensuring his voice carried the right balance of professionalism and optimism. ¡°My next step is to approach Stark¡¯s personal assistant, Pepper Potts, and arrange a face-to-face meeting with Stark himself.¡± Coulson prided himself on being a seasoned field agent. And if his years in the game had taught him anything, it was this¡ªnever tell your boss you¡¯re making no progress. Even when the trail was cold, always sound like you were one step away from cracking the case. It wasn¡¯t deception¡ªit was tact. Coulson didn¡¯t mind taking the heat if things went sideways, as long as it kept Fury from losing more hair. ¡°Good,¡± Fury replied, his tone steady but firm. ¡°Stay on it. This mission is critical, Coulson. You¡¯re one of my best agents, and I¡¯m counting on you.¡± Then Fury¡¯s voice softened, just slightly. ¡°By the way¡­ sounds windy over there. You on a rooftop?¡± Coulson glanced around, noting the gentle breeze tugging at his coat. ¡°Yes, sir. Just getting some fresh air. Needed to clear my head.¡± Fury didn¡¯t question it. ¡°Fine. Keep me posted.¡± The line went dead. Coulson stepped closer to the rooftop¡¯s edge, hands tucked into his pockets. The view stretched far and wide, the city humming quietly below. Up here, the tension of the mission seemed to dissipate. Ten minutes of peace¡ªthat¡¯s all he needed. Because in this job, stress came with the territory. Chapter 17: Obadiah Plan! Meanwhile, somewhere else¡­ A dimly lit office buzzed faintly with the hum of high-powered servers. The air conditioning pumped cold air relentlessly, making the space feel sterile and unwelcoming. Seated behind a polished desk, Nick Fury set down his phone. His one visible eye lingered on the classified report he¡¯d received just minutes earlier. His expression darkened. Resting his elbow on the desk, Fury ran his palm over his smooth, gleaming scalp before tapping his fingers rhythmically against the wood. The numbers in the report didn¡¯t lie¡ª$1.3 billion had vanished from one of S.H.I.E.L.D.¡¯s secret offshore accounts. Gone without a trace. For most organizations, losing that kind of money would trigger panic and chaos. But Fury wasn¡¯t most people. To him, the money wasn¡¯t the problem. It was what the theft meant. Whoever had the skills to infiltrate and drain one of S.H.I.E.L.D.¡¯s most secure accounts hadn¡¯t done it for cash. No¡ªthis was a demonstration. A message. Because stealing money was one thing. But stealing it from S.H.I.E.L.D.¡ªfrom him¡ªwas a declaration of war. And war was Fury¡¯s specialty. He leaned back in his chair, a sharp gaze fixed on the glowing monitors. ¡°Who the hell are you?¡± ¡­. Lemu leaned back against the plush couch in Stark¡¯s Malibu mansion, savoring his victory. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. The funds were secured. The investments were underway. And now? Now he was rich¡ªfilthy rich¡ªand that wasn¡¯t even the best part. The Great Sage had already put the money to work, buying up Stark Industries¡¯ stock during its plummet and diversifying the rest into high-return sectors. No one would suspect a thing. Except, of course, for S.H.I.E.L.D.. Lemu wasn¡¯t stupid. He knew they¡¯d notice the missing money¡ªand fast. But by the time they traced the digital breadcrumbs, the trail would vanish. Still, he made a mental note to prepare contingency plans. In this world, wealth was power, but knowledge was survival. And with 1.3 million skills in his arsenal, survival wasn¡¯t something he needed to worry about. ¡°This is just the beginning,¡± Lemu muttered, swirling the last of his yogurt before downing it. ¡­. In the wake of Tony Stark¡¯s bombshell press conference, Obadiah Stane retreated to a quiet corner of the room, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. The voice on the other end was sharp and panicked. ¡°Boss, bad news. Terence¡ªthe guy handling the Ten Rings deal¡ªran off with the money. He emptied two accounts¡ª$270 million total. We¡¯ve already sent people after him, but¡ª¡± The rest of the words blurred as blood pounded in Obadiah¡¯s ears. ¡°Fuck!¡± His face contorted with rage, veins bulging at his temples. His free hand clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. Lowering his voice to a dangerous growl, he hissed into the phone, ¡°Listen here, you worthless¡ª*&%@! I don¡¯t care what it takes. Find him. Kill him. That deal cannot come to light!¡± ¡°And if you fail¡­¡± The threat lingered in the silence before he slammed the phone down. Obadiah inhaled sharply, straightened his tie, and slapped his cheeks. Within seconds, his expression transformed. The rage and desperation melted away, replaced by his usual disarming smile¡ªthe mask of a seasoned manipulator. Never let them see you sweat. Obadiah had seen betrayal before. He¡¯d delivered his fair share, too. Getting angry was fine, but losing control? That was never an option. Because bigger prizes lay ahead. And none were bigger than Tony Stark. ¡­. Meanwhile, at Stark Industries Headquarters¡­ In a dimly lit lab, arc reactors hummed faintly. The largest of them¡ªa massive circular structure¡ªspun with mesmerizing blue-white energy, casting ethereal patterns across the walls. It looked futuristic, like something pulled straight out of science fiction. Yet it wasn¡¯t new. Decades earlier, Howard Stark had built the first prototype, but it had always been more of a concept piece¡ªan idea far ahead of its time. Now, thanks to Tony Stark¡¯s ingenuity, it has been reborn. Where the original had been a showpiece, this new iteration was functional. A portable, high-output energy source with limitless potential. And Tony Stark¡ªdressed in worn coveralls¡ªwas busy tinkering with it. Sparks danced as he adjusted the components, his focus so intense that he didn¡¯t even glance up when the door creaked open. Obadiah Stane stepped inside, his polished shoes echoing softly against the floor. ¡°Hey, Tony.¡± Tony didn¡¯t look away from the reactor, his hands moving with practiced precision. ¡°Do I have a target painted on my back? Is that it? How¡¯d you even find me here?¡± Obadiah chuckled, playing the part of the concerned mentor. ¡°Your back? Tony, my head¡¯s the one on the chopping block after that little stunt of yours. Any idea how far the stock¡¯s going to drop?¡± Tony finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Stocks can recover. But lives?¡± He gestured toward the reactor. ¡°This can save lives, Obie. That¡¯s what matters.¡± Obadiah¡¯s smile tightened. ¡°Of course. Lives.¡± But his gaze betrayed him, lingering a second too long on the glowing core of the reactor¡ªcalculating, hungry. ¡­. The arc reactor pulsed softly, its glow reflecting in Obadiah¡¯s eyes. This wasn¡¯t just a technological marvel. It was a weapon. A source of limitless energy that could power machines of unimaginable destruction¡ªor domination. And Tony, na?ve as always, had no idea just how dangerous his creation really was. Obadiah¡¯s smile widened. ¡°Oh, Tony,¡± he said, stepping closer, ¡°you¡¯re always thinking ten steps ahead. That¡¯s what makes you brilliant. But I¡¯m not sure the rest of the world is ready for this.¡± Tony smirked, clearly seeing through the flattery. ¡°Let me worry about the world. You just worry about keeping the board from having a meltdown.¡± Obadiah Stane¡¯s with barely concealed frustration, but his eyes never left Tony Stark¡¯s chest¡ªthe faint glow seeping through his shirt.