As time passed, the last fragments of crystal were loaded onto trucks bound for Stark Industries.
Marcus absorbed all the vitrified glass back into his Gara [Glass Lady] form in an instant.
Despite the enormous volume of glass, once reclaimed, it all transformed into energy and integrated into the armor pieces of Gara, imposing no burden on the frame.
After handling the mountain-sized crystal, Marcus turned to the group.
"Since you all wanted to test this vitrified material earlier, try this instead."
In his hand appeared a long sword. The entire blade was made of the same glass material, gleaming brilliantly in the sunlight.
Everyone could sense the sword's lethal sharpness. Though it resembled ordinary glass visually, it conveyed an impression that it could slice through absolutely anything.
"Is this made from the same crystal?" Steve asked, stepping forward curiously.
He took the sword from Marcus's hand. As a veteran of countless battles, Steve had wielded many weapons and practiced various sword techniques, but this blade felt fundamentally different from any he'd previously handled.
Though the sword appeared substantial in length, it felt extraordinarily light in his grip. Even a child could swing it easily, let alone someone at the peak of human physical capability like Steve.
He executed a sharp swing in an uninhabited direction. The blade made a distinct cutting sound as it moved through the air. When it touched the ground, instead of shattering like glass, it left a clean cut mark in the concrete.
This surprised everyone—they hadn't expected the nearly transparent sword to be sharper than conventional steel blades.
"Let me try!" Clint approached eagerly.
Though he primarily used a bow, he was actually quite skilled with bladed weapons.
Steve's experience had clearly piqued his interest. As an accomplished swordsman, Clint couldn't pass up this opportunity.
Taking the sword from Steve, Clint examined the blade carefully.
The nearly transparent weapon was flawless—more perfect than any sword he had ever wielded.
Executing a flourish, Clint experienced the unique sensation of the glass blade.
"It's the perfect weapon," he declared.
Drawing the combat dagger from his leg holster, Clint struck it against the glass blade.
Clang!
When the weapons collided, sparks flew. Upon closer inspection, the glass sword remained immaculate, while his dagger now bore a visible notch—the sparks had come from his steel blade, not the glass.
"This sword is sharper than I imagined," Clint admitted.
While everyone clamored to experience the remarkable sword, Marcus received a call from Fury.
"Regarding your deal with the Council directors, I've coordinated as requested. They've accepted your terms, but they're asking that you send the battleships first..."
"Send the battleships first?" Marcus snorted coldly. "Do they take me for a fool? If I deliver the ships before payment, I'd have to accept whatever they offer! It seems they have no genuine interest in making a deal. In that case, forget the entire arrangement!"
He didn't need these battleships desperately. If the other parties weren't willing to negotiate in good faith, he would simply terminate discussions and find other uses for the vessels.
At S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Fury observed the video conference with the directors without surprise. When they had made this request, he'd already anticipated Marcus's reaction.
Their negotiation tactics might work well in some contexts, but success depended entirely on who sat across the table.
With Tony or others, such methods might prove effective. After all, the government maintained various pressure points on them and could leverage those relationships at critical moments.
But Marcus was different. S.H.I.E.L.D. had been investigating him for over ten years and still hadn't uncovered his true origins. Even though Bucky and others counted among Marcus's friends, Marcus would never simply capitulate to demands.
Based on Fury's assessment of Marcus's capabilities, no nation could afford the consequences of conflict with him. Attempting to outmaneuver him through wordplay was futile.
"How dare he refuse?" The blonde female director slammed her palm against the table. "Is he threatening us?"
In her view, they were offering to trade purely out of courtesy to Marcus. Otherwise, they could simply seize the battleships by force.
The other directors remained silent, watching her outburst with quiet detachment.
After ranting for several moments, the woman finally noticed something was amiss—no one had voiced support for her position.
Everyone regarded her with barely concealed amusement, as if watching an incompetent performer.
"You all—"
Feeling their cold stares, the blonde woman realized she had been politically isolated.
"And so what if I am threatening you?" Marcus's voice emerged from the communicator. "These are my spoils of war. I can dispose of them however I choose."
He had overheard the woman's angry outburst. Her individual objections—or even the collective protests of all S.H.I.E.L.D. directors—couldn't sway him.
After Marcus's pronouncement, the directors fell silent momentarily. Then the Chinese representative spoke:
"Mr. Marcus, China requires one battleship. We can meet all your condition, but we also have a condition we hope you'll honor."
The Chinese Representative?
Marcus was momentarily surprised—he hadn't expected to communicate directly with a representative from China.
He quickly recovered and responded: "You sound sincere. Tell me, what does China require?"
"We hope that after acquiring our technology, you'll maintain absolute confidentiality. These technologies must not be shared with others."
The Chinese Representative's request was straightforward. He asked only that Marcus keep their sensitive technologies secret and prevent their dissemination.
"Agreed. That's a reasonable condition," Marcus replied.
Upon receiving Marcus's acceptance, the Chinese Representative wasted no time with further discussion. He immediately notified his government's operational division to prepare the transfer of materials and special resources.
Once the transaction completed, China would possess a Chitauri battleship. They could reverse-engineer its technology to accelerate their nation's development significantly.
"Two battleships remain available," Marcus reminded everyone on the call. "Fury, do the others still want them? If not, I'll end this call."
Before Fury could answer, another voice emerged—the accent immediately identifying him as Russian.
"The Russian Federation requires one vessel. Our technology and resources will certainly satisfy you, and our conditions match those of our Chinese colleagues."
"The United States claims the final ship!" interjected another voice. "Everything you requested will be provided, and we likewise insist on technological confidentiality."
The remaining two superpowers had spoken in quick succession, securing the available battleships and leaving only the blonde woman and another director stunned into silence.
They hadn't anticipated such rapid division of the spoils. After lengthy internal discussions, they had emerged with nothing.
"It seems your leaders possess wisdom after all," Marcus remarked. "Very well—inform me when everything is prepared."
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