Perhaps Tony had once been nothing more than a playboy and an egomaniac, but after the incident that led him to build the Iron Man armor, he came to understand what responsibility meant—and he knew exactly what he had to do.
It was simply that Tony lived more honestly than most, faithful to his own desires. What he wanted to do, what he didn't want to do, what he could do, what he couldn't do—Tony was perfectly clear on all of it.
"Yeah, yeah, spare me the lecture. I'll get it done."
Stark clicked his tongue in irritation, refusing to concede defeat. A matter of vision? Fine—then he would just expand his own vision to match. Simple as that.
The Helicarrier's onboard Decepticons and its own weapon systems were, at that very moment, bombarding the approaching Knifehead with relentless fire. Even with the heaviest ordnance the craft could deploy, the creature's defense remained unbroken. If the damage output could be quantified, the combined firepower of the Helicarrier and the Decepticons would probably produce nothing but a cascade of [-1] floating around Knifehead's body.
Yes—mandatory scratch damage.
And Knifehead's regeneration rate was +10,000 per second.
But then, the Decepticons—none of whom had been flying too close to Knifehead—all ceased fire and diverted toward the coastal city, leaving only five of their number to circle the monster at a distance.
Truth be told, Knifehead's appearance was a considerable step up from the cannon-fodder Axehead that had shown up earlier. Its scythe-shaped skull, the shark-like dorsal fin running down its back, and arms that were less limbs than they were heavy, blunt blades—overall, it looked far better than the embarrassing Axehead.
And unlike Axehead, who had died like a complete throwaway minion, Knifehead could at least claim a decent record in the Pacific Rim films. The Gipsy Danger Jaeger, for instance, had nearly been destroyed by it.
Leaving the Helicarrier and flying to a midpoint over the coastline, Tony sized up Knifehead while browsing for his combat background music.
"Jarvis, focus on data collection. Analyze where this thing's weakest defensive point is."
Tony piloted his armor to a higher altitude. The reactor in his chest spun up, blazing with light, and a beam of concentrated energy erupted from the V-shaped emitter on his chest, striking the monster square in its scythe-like head.
A battle roar that shook the heavens echoed out. But when the smoke and mist cleared, the creature stood largely intact—its shell not fully breached—confirming exactly what Tony had suspected.
"Looks like only the new prototype weapons are going to do the job. Jarvis, get ready!"
"Combat music—external speakers!"
Every other superhero on the scene found themselves at a loss for words. General Ross, cigar clamped between his teeth, spat in disgust.
Then he charged forward and punched Knifehead in the foot.
A monster weighing thousands of tons was not, of course, going to be budged by the Red Hulk. It simply stomped him flat underfoot.
The other superheroes felt equally helpless. All their muscle-bound enhancements, their strange mutations—none of it could do a thing against a creature of this sheer scale.
Black Panther, now a member of S.W.O.R.D., discovered that his vibranium claws could pierce the monster's outer shell—but the problem, the fatal problem, was that those claws were measured in centimeters.
The energy weapons of the Atlantean civilization did manage to inflict superficial damage to the monster's hide.
Attacks that actually broke through drew sprays of blue blood splashing into the air, and Knifehead's entire body flared with an unnatural blue glow.
"Damn it—we should have waited for it to fully make landfall before opening fire!"
The monster's blue blood was toxic to Earth's ecosystem, and even in the ocean it was nearly impossible to dilute. While this bombardment had only broken the creature's outer skin, the blood was now spilling into the shallows. It was easy to predict that the nearby waters would never again be fit for swimmers.
"We're critically short on experience against giant-scale targets. Even that Dragon-level monster, the Giant Centipede, wasn't anywhere near this size."
"No—only we are short on experience. Zodseth is already prepared. All we have to do is hold out until his next Sword of Damocles strike."
The superheroes and S.W.O.R.D. had already learned of Zodseth's preparations from Tony Stark. It was, they had to admit, exactly what you'd expect from him—Zodseth's vision reached far beyond anyone else's.
"Director, how long until the barrel change is complete?"
Fury stared intently at the screen, brow furrowed, and asked the question.
By now, governments around the world were essentially in meltdown. None of them had ever imagined that Zodseth would place such a terrifying weapon directly over their heads.
Over in Japan, that single blast from the Sword of Damocles had not only vaporized Axehead into nothingness—it had punched through nearly a kilometer of bedrock. Japan was now grappling with collapsing foundations and earthquakes from the destabilized ground.
The Sword of Damocles was living up to its name with brutal accuracy. In fact, everyone was convinced Zodseth had chosen that name specifically as a message for them to see.
"Thirty more minutes," Hill answered quickly.
"Thirty minutes, then. Hold the line as best we can."
Fury nodded.
A terrifying explosion shook the earth as the monster crashed down, generating micro-seismic tremors that could be felt throughout the surrounding cities. Across the coastal city—from the shallows to areas near the city center—windows in most buildings shattered instantly, and cracks spidered through reinforced concrete structures.
At the epicenter of the blast, a crater a hundred meters across had been carved into the ground. The monster's flesh and blood had splattered outward like graffiti, painting the entire area. Seawater pouring into the crater mingled with the creature's blue blood, making it impossible to prevent the contamination from spreading into the ocean.
This wasn't the result of a fuel-air bomb or anything of the sort—it was caused when the superheroes' battle with Knifehead accidentally ignited an underground natural gas pipeline.
The explosion looked spectacular, and the blast seemed devastating, but when Knifehead emerged from the flames and smoke, it was completely unharmed.
The blue toxic fluids on its body were now burning in the fire, producing poisonous smoke that was contaminating the atmosphere.
Tony frowned as his sensors detected the phenomenon.
These monsters weren't just hard to kill—they had this disgusting passive ability to pollute the environment. And even if they managed to kill one, disposing of the corpse would be another problem entirely.
Fortunately, Zodseth's Sword of Damocles could incinerate them into absolute nothingness, eliminating any risk of airborne contamination.
And then, Tony Stark and every superhero on the battlefield received an evacuation alert.
Zodseth had finished swapping out the barrel ahead of schedule.
This time, he had fitted it with a vibranium barrel. Overheating would no longer be a concern.
A crimson beam of death descended from the heavens, striking Knifehead at a speed the creature had no hope of evading.
The awe-inspiring sight stunned every superhero present. Even General Ross—a man deeply proud of his own power—stood frozen in shock.
If he were hit by an energy cannon like that... he would die too.
Knifehead shrieked as its body dissolved into ash. The energy output had been perfectly calibrated this time—after reducing the monster to nothing, the beam penetrated only about ten meters into the ground before stopping.
/-\
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