[Sir, overall armor damage has reached 42%.]
[Chest-mounted impact beam generator destroyed. Upper-limb armor defense reduced by 60%.]
[Combat effectiveness continuing to decline—currently at 52%.]
Sparks crackled violently from the gaping wound in the Mark IV's chest as Orm raised his weapon again.
Bang!
Orm staggered slightly as he twisted his torso and smashed his elbow hard into Deadshot's face.
The instant the blow landed, the Zoe armor rushed to cover Deadshot's face.
At the moment of impact, the armor plates vibrated at an almost imperceptible frequency, dispersing part of the force through synchronized oscillation across the suit.
Crack.
Even so, the blow shattered Deadshot's cheekbone.
The remaining force sent him flying sideways into the ground, the violent concussion knocking him unconscious on the spot.
Tony's raised palm had already finished charging another energy blast, which he fired straight into Orm's back.
Without hesitation, Tony rushed forward, scooped up Deadshot's limp body, and ignited every thruster on his suit.
[Engine overload mode activated.]
By the time Jarvis issued the alert, they had already covered dozens of meters—and were still accelerating.
Orm slammed his feet into the ground. Gravel exploded outward as he tore through the air in pursuit.
[Engine overload remaining time: 43 seconds.]
The engines screamed under the strain. Temperatures exceeded material tolerances, and metal around the exhaust ports began to soften and melt.
Tony didn't slow down. He couldn't.
Behind him, Orm's trident flashed gold. His already powerful physique swelled further, and his speed surged again.
[Engine overload remaining time: 38 seconds.]
[Sir, the target has accelerated. Estimated time to interception: under 3 seconds.]
Tony heard it.
But there was nothing he could do.
The engines were already beyond their limits. Even if he dropped Deadshot now, it wouldn't matter—he still couldn't outrun Orm.
"…Whatever," Tony muttered. "I was going to die from poisoning sooner or later anyway."
"Jarvis… tell Pepper I love her."
"And send her my will."
With only seconds left, Tony recorded his final messages and sent them out.
Then an overwhelming force slammed into his back.
His forward momentum was violently reversed as he was smashed into the ground.
The inertia from his high-speed flight, combined with the crushing blow from behind, twisted the titanium alloy armor around his waist until it tore free.
If those armor modules hadn't deformed and detached, the forces would have snapped his spine like a pretzel.
Still clutching Deadshot, Tony bounced several times before finally skidding to a halt.
[Sir, overall armor damage has reached 79%.]
[Twelve bone fractures detected. Minor internal bleeding present.]
[Combat effectiveness reduced to 12%. Emergency ejection recommended.]
Tony didn't answer.
Inside the helmet, his entire body screamed pain straight into his brain.
He had already given up.
His last words had been sent.
"I admire your courage and defiance," Orm declared coldly, raising his trident.
"So now, I grant you the key to death."
Just as the weapon was about to fall—
A deafening sonic boom exploded through the air.
In the next instant, Orm—who had been standing right in front of Tony—vanished.
A massive hand had seized Orm by the throat, dragging him across the ground at extreme speed.
The sheer force smashed through layers of rubble, carving a two-meter-wide trench straight through the battlefield.
Then—with a single violent motion—Orm was hurled into a collapsed ruin.
---
"Lucas, I'll take them back first. I'll return immediately to help you."
A graceful figure hovered in midair, wearing a pale-blue combat suit and a flowing red cape.
Golden hair gleamed under the midday sun, and her clear blue eyes shone like twin pools of water.
It was Kara, Supergirl.
In her hands, she held Tony Stark and Deadshot—two fully armored men who felt no heavier than chickens to her.
Cough… cough…
"I thought you weren't coming," Deadshot rasped, his faceplate opening as he spat out a mouthful of dark blood, forcing a crooked smile at Lucas.
Lucas shook his head helplessly.
"Get them out of here—now. I've got this."
Kara turned and flew away without hesitation.
---
Crack… rumble…
With Kara gone, stones began sliding down from the massive cratered ruin ahead.
Then—crash!—Orm stepped out from the rubble.
"You," Orm said, staring at the unfamiliar man. "Who are you?"
"My name is Lucas Reed," Lucas replied calmly.
"Just an ordinary, law-abiding citizen from Pennsylvania."
He straightened his suit, then smiled faintly.
"I heard that when you were beating up my people just now—
you were acting pretty arrogant?"
Orm narrowed his eyes.
For the first time, a stranger made him feel genuine danger.
---
Five Minutes Earlier — The White House
With every weapon failing to stop Orm, silence filled the White House command room.
"What about Lucas?" President Ellis asked grimly.
"William says the approval was expedited and delivered to the prison by helicopter," Ross replied.
Both men understood exactly what Lucas had been waiting for.
The cyber-intelligence department had already reported it—nationwide protests had erupted across America.
People were holding banners outside government buildings:
LUCAS IS INNOCENT.
FREE HUMANITY'S PROTECTOR.
RELEASE OUR GUARDIAN.
Public opinion had completely tipped in his favor.
"He's achieved his goal," Ellis said heavily.
"From now on, he holds a license to kill—legally."
"At least he's respecting our legal system," Ross replied.
"With his strength, he never needed to."
Ellis exhaled slowly.
"That's the best news I've heard all day."
Ross's phone rang.
He checked it—and his face lit up.
"Mr. President. The innocence notice has been delivered. He says he's leaving immediately."
"Yes!" Ellis clenched his fist.
He had never truly despaired—because Lucas was always the final card.
"He's moving!" Ross shouted again.
A digital map appeared on-screen.
A bright red dot shot out from Pennsylvania State Prison, racing straight toward Gotham.
"Sir! Initial speed—Mach 3 and rising!"
"Mach 10—no, Mach 14! Still accelerating!"
The red dot streaked across the American map.
"Mach 20! Speed confirmed—6.8 kilometers per second!"
"Oh my God…" someone whispered.
"Is he really human?"
_____
T/N:
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