"What the f—!?"
Through the Iron Monger's visual system, Stane saw the scene before him and nearly had his eyeballs pop out.
A frying pan had blocked his anti-tank missile.
Someone explain to him what kind of scientific principle this was supposed to be.
As a top-tier scientist, Tony could only think: Hell if I know!
Suppressing the absurdity churning in his chest, Stane narrowed his eyes at Daniel. "I recognize you. You're Tony's bodyguard."
Daniel tried to persuade him. "Stane, just stop. Your daughter is still waiting for you to come home for dinner."
Stane: "?"
Wait—how did he know that?
"No matter who you are, anyone who stands in my way dies!"
With a cold snort, Stane drove the Iron Monger forward. The massive metal fist swung down at Daniel with terrifying force!
Daniel rolled smoothly to the side. The ground where he had stood was smashed into a crater.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Daniel pulled out his golden Desert Eagle and fired multiple shots. Bullets sparked wildly across the Iron Monger's armor.
"Hahaha! It's useless! My Iron Monger armor is invincible!"
Stane laughed arrogantly as the Gatling gun on his arm spun up again.
Da-da-da-da-da—!
A storm of bullets erupted toward Daniel like a metal hurricane.
Daniel's evasive movements were fluid—sprinting, rolling, weaving through fire. His actions were silky smooth, the kind of muscle memory forged through years playing Souls-like games.
To Stane's mounting frustration, not even Daniel's clothing was grazed after an entire barrage.
Worse, the bastard was dodging while spouting nonstop taunts.
"Grandma crossing the road, grandma doing square dance, grandma backstepping—"
To hell with your grandma!
Stane's blood pressure skyrocketed. His face heated visibly with rage.
"Stane!"
Tony obviously wasn't going to sit there and watch. He seized the opening—Mark III's shoulder compartment opened, releasing a volley of micro-missiles that locked onto the target and launched.
BOOM!!
A violent explosion engulfed the Iron Monger, flames and black smoke erupting sky-high.
But as the saying goes—lots of smoke means little damage.
Heavy metallic footsteps echoed as the Iron Monger strode out of the fire without a scratch. The armor wasn't even dented—only charred from the blast.
Daniel jumped over to Tony and whispered, "This boss's defense is a bit overtuned. Way tankier than your suit."
Tony: "…"
Damn it. As soon as he gets home, he's building something bigger.
"His shell is too thick. This won't work. Tony—I have a plan," Daniel suddenly said.
"What plan?"
"Don't ask. I need to get something ready first. Stall him and lure him to this location. Leave the rest to me." Daniel gave him a spot in the outskirts.
"…Fine."
At this point, Tony had no choice but to trust him.
Seeing Daniel turn and run, Stane taunted, "Tony, your bodyguard seems to be abandoning you."
"Just like how your wife abandoned you for her second husband? And then her daughter ended up working as your assistant?"
When it came to sharp tongues, Tony feared few people.
"Courting death!"
Stane was instantly enraged and forgot about Daniel entirely. He charged Tony again.
A few exchanges later, Tony was completely outmatched. Iron Monger had him pinned and was grinding him into the ground. The Mark III was quickly turning into its battle-damaged version.
That said, the shock absorption of this armor was terrifyingly strong.
Under normal physics, even if the armor stayed intact, the person inside should've been pulp or experiencing catastrophic brain trauma.
But Tony, aside from being dizzy, was full of vigor—almost like the armor was actually his HP bar. As long as the armor held, he wouldn't be hurt, just like those fighting games where only clothes get destroyed.
WHAM!!
Tony was sent flying yet again.
He stabilized midair with his repulsors, hovering in a rather embarrassing—and somewhat maiden-like—pose.
Seeing this, Stane laughed wildly. "Not bad, some upgrades there. But I've made some upgrades of my own!"
The iron giant's feet suddenly burst with flames, lifting its enormous frame shakily into the air.
Copycat bastard.
Tony gritted his teeth and ordered JARVIS to fly toward the location Daniel mentioned.
Stane, not to be outdone, rocketed after him—belching thick black exhaust like an airborne environmental disaster.
The two streaked across the sky and soon reached the outskirts.
"Remaining power: below 5%."
Tony heard JARVIS's report right as they touched down.
After such an extended battle, the Mark III's power reserve was nearly depleted.
"Where the hell did Daniel go? Don't tell me he ran…"
Tony scanned around anxiously, but found no sign of him.
THUD!
A heavy impact sounded behind him.
He turned just in time to see Iron Monger land and clamp him tightly in its arms.
Stane sneered, "So this is the grave you picked out for yourself?"
As he spoke, Iron Monger's arms began to squeeze. Mark III groaned under the crushing pressure as Stane applied a deadly bear hug.
JARVIS reported rapidly, "Left arm severely damaged. Most weapons offline. Air-conditioning functional."
"Countermeasures!!"
Tony roared. The Mark III's leg thrusters erupted, forcing Iron Monger to loosen its grip just long enough for Tony to break free.
"Energy remaining: 2%. Activating emergency reserve." JARVIS's voice came again.
Crap.
Tony's expression darkened.
With most functions offline, all he had left was basic movement.
Stane recovered quickly. Seeing the dim lights of the Mark III, he immediately understood the situation. His tone turned mocking.
"How ironic, Tony. You said you wanted to rid the world of weapons, yet you created an even more powerful one."
"Now die beneath the weapon you made with your own hands!"
He marched forward, Iron Monger towering over him, ready to send his nephew to meet his dead father.
Suddenly—
"Hey. Over here."
Stane turned toward the voice.
Daniel stood in the distance, hefting an RPG launcher on his shoulder.
Stane scoffed. "You think that can damage my suit?"
"One isn't enough… but what about a hundred?"
"?"
Before Stane could react, Daniel pulled the trigger.
FWOOOOSH—!
The rocket streaked forward trailing flames and struck the ground right beneath Stane's feet.
BOOOOOM!!!
The explosion tore the earth open.
Stane felt the ground vanish beneath him as the Iron Monger lost balance and plummeted downward uncontrollably.
As dust billowed, he looked around in shock.
He had fallen into a massive underground chamber—its walls composed of oddly perfect cubic chunks of soil and stone, all marked with clear digging patterns.
At the bottom of the enormous pit lay countless red-and-white blocks, each flashing with an urgent white glow.
Printed on them were three unmistakable letters:
TNT!