"Just now I received a fragment of signal from J.A.R.V.I.S. It seems Stark has run into trouble, and Colonel Rhodes' signal is also fluctuating. I fear he's had an accident."
A holographic map floated in Saitama's vision.
Tennessee.
On a small-town street, explosions thundered, residents fleeing in panic.
From the dark night, several men in black cloaks emerged like demons from hell.
They radiated unbearable heat, molten cracks running across their skin, crushing the town with unstoppable force and slaughtering civilians at will.
Poor Stark, after using makeshift tricks to defeat two Extremis soldiers, lost his armor in the process—and was finally captured alive.
Pakistan.
The air reeked of blood.
Dr. Maya Hansen lay on the ground, a bullet hole in her chest pouring blood.
She stared in disbelief at the man in a white suit before her—Dr. Killian, creator of the Extremis soldiers.
She had tried to bargain with her own life, threatening that without her, the virus would spiral out of control and their soldiers would all burn up.
But she overestimated her value.
Killian disappointed her—with a single shot to the heart.
"The good news," Killian sneered, gripping Stark's bloodied face, "is that I just opened up a higher position. And you, Stark, crawling like an ant at my feet… this feels wonderful."
Stark glared silently, anger etched into his dying expression.
"Oh, and I forgot to mention—I'm preparing a grand banquet. Your president will be the most honored guest." Killian chuckled meaningfully, then turned to leave.
Moments earlier, he had already used the Extremis' heat to rip open Rhodey's Iron Patriot. A greater conspiracy was brewing.
After Killian left, armed men came to carry away Maya Hansen's corpse.
Without his armor, Stark was nothing but prey.
"You'd better stay back, or I might accidentally kill you," Stark bluffed with a straight face.
Two guards looked at him like a lunatic, watching him strike ridiculous poses.
He was trying to summon the Mark armor through the micro-current sensors embedded in his skin.
But nothing happened.
On the outside he looked calm. Inside, panic gnawed at him.
"So this is America's richest man? Look at him—pathetic, worse than mud!"
"Without his armor, he's just garbage."
"Gotcha."
A voice came unexpectedly from beyond the iron fence.
The guards froze, then turned their heads.
There he was—bald-headed Saitama, standing casually outside the bars.
"Sa… Saitama…"
Stark's throat caught.
"You! Who are you?! Stop right there, hands in the air—"
The guards barked, raising pistols.
But their voices stuck in their throats.
Creeeak—
With a sound like twisting steel, Saitama bent the reinforced iron bars aside and strolled in.
The two guards stood paralyzed as he walked past.
Guard A: "…"
Guard B: "…"
"Why are my legs shaking so bad…"
"Oh? Then you guys keep at it. I'll head out."
Saitama turned to leave.
"Wait, no! Saitama!" Stark yelled quickly. "Fine, I admit it—I got kidnapped. This is a disaster. My Mark armor's out of power, dammit…"
Even at death's door, Tony Stark still had his pride.
"True. No matter how powerful, armor is just an external tool. To get stronger, you need to rely on yourself," Saitama nodded approvingly.
After all, he himself had become this strong purely by training.
"…Wait, Saitama, how did you even get so ridiculously strong?"
Tony forced a straight face.
The two guards also perked their ears. Someone who could bend iron like that—what was his secret?
"This will take some explaining."
Saitama's face suddenly hardened, features rough and grave.
"I trained for three years to become this strong. 100 push-ups! 100 sit-ups! 100 squats! And a 10km run! Every. Single. Day!"
"And of course, three meals a day—banana for breakfast is fine. But most importantly, to train my willpower—I never used air conditioning, summer or winter! At first it was so painful I nearly died, felt like giving up every day. But then…"
His voice shook the air.
"…I noticed my body changing. I got bald… but I also got stronger!"
"…So basically, push yourself to the point of baldness—that's the path to true strength! You can do it too, Stark!"
He patted Tony on the shoulder with sincerity.
Stark's jaw dropped. The guards wore the same stunned expression.
"…That training routine doesn't sound that crazy. Shouldn't give you this kind of power," Stark muttered. The guards nodded vigorously.
"Huh? Really?" Saitama scratched his smooth scalp, a bit at a loss.
"…Forget it. Probably none of you would stick with it anyway."
"Stark, since you treated me to burgers last time, I'll give you this."
Saitama snapped the shackles from Stark's wrists and handed him a silver test tube.
"This is…?"
"According to Bruce Banner, this stuff can—"
(End of Chapter)
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