CHAPTER 17
"What!?"
Tony Stark jolted awake, the wine he had consumed earlier doing little to dull his senses as chaos erupted around him.
His shock deepened when he spotted Pepper Potts—Xiao Chili—among the panicked crowd.
Thankfully, his Iron Man suit was already on. Reacting instinctively, he raised his arm and fired a repulsor blast.
Boom!
The palm cannon struck an incoming missile mid-air, triggering a fiery explosion. The blast shattered every window in the villa.
A chorus of terrified screams drowned out the music.
Guests ran in every direction, their elegant appearances ruined by fear. Amid the chaos, Pepper rushed toward Tony, the only one moving against the tide.
"Tony! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine! I'm fine! I'm getting you out of here right now!"
Grabbing Pepper's hand, Tony bolted toward the exit. But just as they cleared the villa, two more rockets screamed toward the building.
Boom!
The explosion obliterated the stage where his birthday celebration had been moments ago.
Out of the smoke and debris, heavily armed mercenaries poured in from military trucks. The night air filled with the deafening roar of gunfire.
Pepper gasped, hands covering her mouth in horror.
She watched as the party guests—innocent bystanders—were mercilessly gunned down in front of her.
"I have to get you somewhere safe first."
Tony was breathing hard, rage boiling inside him.
Someone had dared to attack his home.
"Stark!"
Before Tony could react, a glowing whip lashed out from below, coiling around his ankle. Sparks erupted as the electrified weapon dug into the suit's plating.
Instinct took over—Tony hurled Pepper away, just in time. Had she remained close, the electrical surge would have been lethal.
But the situation remained dire.
"No—!"
Tony screamed, powerless as he watched Pepper plummet toward the raging inferno.
It was, without a doubt, the most helpless moment of his life.
Then—
A massive figure streaked through the sky like a shadow from the Mirage Tower.
An enormous hand closed around Pepper, plucking her from the flames with precision.
"Qi Mu!"
Shen He's amplified voice rang out over the battlefield.
"She's safe."
Qi Mu Nanxiong's voice resounded in Shen He's mind. He had already teleported Pepper to the medical ward where the Two Rituals resided.
The rocket barrage hadn't reached that area, but the mercenaries were closing in.
Without hesitation, Shen He set Pepper down at a safe distance. Then, he launched into the air, piloting his mecha over the burning villa. His furious voice echoed across the battlefield.
"Kill!"
It was as if he had unleashed a forbidden incantation.
The girl Qi Mu had rescued earlier suddenly stirred in the medical room. Her movements were eerily mechanical, like a lifeless doll springing to action.
She crouched, clutching a weapon that was almost taller than herself—a long axe gleaming under the dim light.
As the door burst open, she struck.
The axe swung so swiftly that the human eye could barely follow.
Crack!
The first mercenary's skull split open before he could even scream. Blood gushed forth like a ruptured dam. His body collapsed lifelessly, shielding the small girl beneath its bulk.
A chorus of screams erupted.
A second later, the rest of the intruders dropped to the floor.
Their calves had been severed in a single, sweeping motion.
Dropping her axe, the girl produced two daggers from her sleeves. With inhuman speed, she stabbed the fallen enemies repeatedly, each thrust precise and deadly.
Her movements were swift, fluid—like a hunter toying with prey.
The nurses in the medical room could only watch in horror.
A lone girl, standing amid a sea of corpses, her once-pristine white dress soaked in crimson. Golden hair, previously elegant, now clumped with blood.
It was a sight they would never forget.
She looked like a fairy from hell.
Yet this was only the beginning.
Violet moved.
Picking up a firearm from a fallen enemy, she dashed forward with catlike agility. Strengthened by enhanced combat instincts, she moved like a phantom, eliminating her targets with ruthless efficiency.
Her small frame and blinding speed gave her an overwhelming advantage.
"No! Don't kill me! Please!"
"Get away from her! She's not human—!"
"Fall back! Retreat!"
Battle-hardened mercenaries, men who had seen countless wars, crumbled in terror.
Some fired blindly in desperation. Others dropped their weapons and ran.
It only made things easier for Violet.
She discarded the cumbersome firearm, preferring the weapon Shen He had given her—a single, razor-sharp dagger.
With minimal effort, she caught up to the retreating soldiers.
A leap. A twist. A precise cut.
She severed their throats as effortlessly as a butcher preparing meat.
Blood splattered across her skin, but she didn't react.
She simply obeyed orders, executing them one by one.
Shen He knew.
He had known since their time in the dungeon—Violet possessed an innate talent for killing.
He forced himself to remain composed.
Ignoring the screams from the villa.
Suppressing the fury burning in his chest.
These mercenaries weren't just after Tony.
They wanted the armor.
Or perhaps even the schematics hidden inside the villa.
Their failures had only escalated their desperation. Instead of retreating, they deployed their true trump card.
A full battalion of armored soldiers.
These weren't ordinary mercenaries.
They were mass-produced combat suits—cheap imitations forged from Ivan Vanko's intellect and Hydra's bottomless resources.
Individually, they were no match for Tony's Iron Man suits.
But Shen He could see the danger—
The sheer firepower they carried could flatten the entire villa.
"Tony, activate the defense grid!"
Shen He soared into the sky, preparing his own counterattack.
A projectile shot from his chest—a metallic sphere trailing fire and thick smoke.
A split second later, a blinding violet beam erupted, locking onto the projectile.
Boom!
The resulting detonation illuminated the entire battlefield.
The swirling energy beam expanded outward, shredding everything in its path—enemy mechs, trucks, and advancing soldiers all reduced to smoldering debris.
The attack had a name.
[Diffusion Tectonic Phase Shift Cannon]—a devastating weapon from the Mirage's arsenal.
As the dust settled, only two figures remained standing within the fan-shaped destruction zone.
Tony Stark.
And Ivan Vanko.
The Russian genius had barely survived, his mechanical legs reduced to scrap.
Tony stepped forward, planting a foot on Ivan's battered form. He reached down, ripping off his helmet.
Blood dribbled from Ivan's lips as he lifted his gaze.
His expression twisted into a vengeful grin.
"Stark," he spat, "your family are all butchers. You don't deserve the power you wield. Now... it's time for your reckoning."
Tony's instincts screamed at him—
But before he could react, Ivan's electrified whips lashed out, coiling around the arc reactor in his chest.
His suit's power source flickered wildly.
Danger alarms blared.
Tony Stark was trapped.