Chapter 3: Where Did This Thing Come From?

"Holy crap, this is awesome!" Aetheris's eyes sparkled with excitement, while Dr. Ethan stood frozen at the doorway.

The towering, mechanical Hellfire Armor was visually overwhelming, fiercely stimulating Aetheris's senses.

Anyone who saw such a massive hunk of metal appear out of thin air would have the same question:

Where did this thing come from?

"Dr. Ethan! Don't just stand there—keep working!" Aetheris called out, noticing Ethan's dumbfounded expression.

"Oh, right… right!" Ethan responded, though his eyes kept drifting toward the Hellfire Armor.

Aetheris reached out, placing his hand on the Arc Reactor embedded in the chest of the Mark II Hellfire Armor.

Ding. Host detected. Proceed with activation?

"Obviously! Get on with it!"

In an instant, the Mark II armor began to disassemble, revealing a compartment large enough to accommodate Aetheris.

Suppressing the thrill surging in his chest, he stepped into the armored suit.

Click-click-click— smooth mechanical shifting sounds echoed around him.

Meanwhile, Dr. Ethan's brief hesitation allowed a nearby guard to catch a glimpse of the Mark II armor inside the hidden workshop.

But this particular guard wasn't reckless. Instead of sounding the alarm, he discreetly radioed the bearded man stationed at the base.

"What? A robot? Appeared out of nowhere? Got it. Hold your position—I'm bringing reinforcements." The bearded man, who had been resting comfortably, jumped to his feet at the report from the cave.

That wannabe genius really came to stir up trouble the moment he arrived!

Grabbing an AK-47 and rallying a group of subordinates, he charged toward the cave.

Meanwhile, Aetheris had fully suited up. The golden helmet locked into place, and a pair of glowing blue eyes illuminated the visor.

Ding. Please assign a name to the mech system.

"Let's call it Paul."

Aetheris chuckled to himself. The name had a nice ring to it—and besides, it sounded dependable.

Naming successful!

Bang!

The heavy iron door was flung open from the outside, sending dust and debris tumbling from the cave walls.

"What the hell is that thing?" The armed men froze in shock.

Cosplay? That couldn't be real… could it?

Before they could react, Aetheris gave the order.

"Paul, precision strike."

Faced with these ruthless militants, Aetheris didn't waste time with empty threats or pointless mercy.

Redemption is God's job. Mine is to send them to meet Him.

Small missile pods rose from both shoulders of the armor.

The next instant, a barrage of bullets and rockets ripped through the attackers.

Blood bloomed in mid-air.

It happened so quickly they didn't even have time to scream.

"Dr. Ethan, stay here. I'll come back for you."

Aetheris wasn't foolish enough to drag Ethan along.

He had the invincible Hellfire Armor. Ethan? Just flesh and blood.

Losing his top scientist to a stray bullet would be a devastating blow.

With the armor fully powered, Aetheris charged out of the cave—only to be greeted by a sea of gun barrels aimed directly at him.

"I don't care what you are—get out of that fancy suit right now!" the bearded man shouted, his eyes burning with greed as he took in the sight of the Hellfire Armor.

This had to be one of Stark Industries' secret prototypes. Damn, it looked slick. Could it be meant for him?

Every man dreams of becoming Iron Man.

Aetheris smirked as he faced the stunned group of militants.

"Listen up, fools from the wastelands—you're already surrounded. Drop your weapons now, and I'll only execute your leaders. The rest of you get a chance to repent and serve me."

Aetheris couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for them.

They weren't born to be militants—they'd simply been born in the wrong place.

"Hahahaha—"

Laughter erupted all around him. The militants looked at Aetheris the way people look at a delusional child.

"Stubborn to the end. Paul, full strike."

Paul carried out the command without hesitation.

On Aetheris's screen, blood sprayed. Severed limbs scattered across the ground.

Nausea welled up in Aetheris's stomach, but he forced himself to keep watching.

There would be far more brutal wars ahead—wars between humans, between humans and aliens… even wars between humans and gods.

In less than five seconds, the entire base fell silent. The only sound was the wind, carrying dust and the faint stench of blood.

Paul's targeting had been flawless. Aetheris had ordered no survivors.

It was done. Time to notify the U.S. military to clean up the aftermath.

He checked the Hellfire Armor's energy reserves—still at 80%.

Damn this system. Would it kill them to toss in a few extra Arc Reactors at random?

Now he had to pinch every percentage point of power. Once he got back, he'd have Old Ethan build at least a hundred spare reactors.

Retracting the Hellfire Armor, Aetheris searched the bearded man's body and found a satellite phone. He dialed the U.S. military base stationed nearby.

"Hello? Dinner's ready. Come down to Mississippi."

After making the call, Aetheris couldn't stand the overwhelming stench of blood any longer and hurried back to check on Ethan.

Later, aboard a helicopter headed to safety…

"Mr. Stark, how did you escape? And who took out all those militants?" a U.S. officer asked.

"Oh, Captain, I have no idea. I was in the cave with Dr. Ethan the whole time. When I came out… it was already over." Aetheris shrugged, glancing at the vast desert stretching beyond the helicopter window.

Dr. Ethan had already rehearsed the story with him—and even agreed to join Stark Industries once they returned.

After all, who could turn down a job with a ten-million-dollar annual salary?

No one.

And so, Aetheris experienced what it truly meant to be wealthy and carefree.

When hiring people, he never asked how much they wanted—he had the money, and it wasn't even his.

"Respected Mr. Stark, may I offer you something to drink?" a soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

Aetheris opened his drowsy eyes—and instantly perked up.

Before him stood a stunning woman of obvious Arabian descent. Her long, jet-black hair cascaded to her waist, her graceful face radiant, her eyes shining like stars in the night sky.

"Oh, lovely lady, perhaps you should ask Mr. Ethan over there first," Aetheris teased, trying to earn some goodwill.

"I'll just have a bottle of water," Ethan replied calmly.

The woman was beautiful—stunning even—but Ethan already had a wife. And as a man of principle, he couldn't bring himself to betray her.

"Hey! Why are you only serving them? We want service too!" a grating voice called from the back.

This was a commercial Boeing 747. Originally, the military had arranged a private jet for Aetheris.

But when he learned it would take two more days, he refused to wait. He couldn't stand another second of the scorching desert air.

More importantly, he was desperate to return to the United States—to breathe in that legendary air of freedom, to see if it was truly as sweet as people claimed.

And, of course, his assistant, Pepper, had probably been waiting for him so long she was ready to turn to stone.

(End of Chapter)

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