…
Tony launched straight into the air, heading toward the nearby weapons depot.
Every crate stored there had been supplied by Obadiah Stane, each stamped clearly with the Stark Industries logo.
For a man who had publicly announced the shutdown of Stark Industries' weapons division not long ago, the existence of this stockpile was a direct slap in the face.
Which was precisely why Tony had agreed so readily to split up.
"Alright," Leon said calmly.
"Which one of you is in charge?"
He fired a casual backward shot, clipping a masked militant who had tried to ambush him—
Though in truth, Leon's bullet merely grazed the man. Arcee finished him with a plasma beam that left nothing behind.
That single exchange ignited the rest.
The militants began shouting in multiple languages and opened fire in unison.
Bullets rained down in a deafening barrage.
Leon raised his Vibranium-reinforced shield more out of formality than necessity.
"They calling us monsters?" he asked Arcee.
"Dari. Pashto. Persian. Some Russian. Mixed dialects," Arcee replied effortlessly. "Yes. They are calling us monsters."
Leon smirked.
"Monsters suit each other just fine."
He tapped her lightly with the shield edge.
"Still… that many languages in one unit? No wonder they're disorganized. Amateur."
The gunfire continued relentlessly.
Leon ignored it entirely—stepping deliberately in front of Arcee to intercept a few heavier-caliber rounds even her gold-titanium frame would have preferred not to tank directly.
Arcee's optic glow brightened.
Leon's durability continued to exceed her projections.
Perhaps—
He truly was her destined partner.
After nearly two and a half minutes, the militants' ammunition reserves finally ran dry.
Leon lowered his shield.
"You done?"
No answer.
Only heavy breathing.
Not only had their full volley failed to injure him—
Several had been killed by ricochets from the shield itself.
"Arcee," Leon said, "you know more languages than I ever will. Go find Yinsen's family. I'll handle this."
"Understood."
She stepped away gracefully.
"Good luck," she added coolly—to the militants.
Leon drew the Infinite Desert Eagle.
"Anyone here speak English? Japanese? Mandarin?"
"I'm from community outreach. Drop your weapons and I promise you'll receive the full American experience."
To demonstrate, he walked up to a bearded militant who appeared to be the leader.
Leon fired seven shots straight into the sky.
"See? Empty."
The moment the shots stopped—
The leader gestured sharply.
The remaining militants closed in with knives.
Leon stared at them.
They thought blades would succeed where autocannons had failed?
Adorable.
One of them stepped forward and spoke broken Japanese.
"You… speak Japanese, yes?"
Leon didn't hesitate.
Bang.
The Desert Eagle barked once.
At point-blank range, even Leon's questionable aim was sufficient.
The militant dropped instantly.
Panic erupted.
None of them were willing to gamble on whether Leon's weapon was truly empty.
Leon grinned.
"Too late."
Within 2.5 meters, anyone could be a sharpshooter.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
With infinite ammunition backing it, the Desert Eagle sounded like a machine gun.
By the time it ended, the encircling militants had been shredded.
Only the bearded leader remained, sprinting desperately away.
Leon fired three times.
Missed.
"…Seriously?"
He sighed and hurled the Desert Eagle instead.
With superhuman force, it became a projectile weapon.
Impact.
The gun smashed into the man's leg, shattering it.
The leader collapsed, screaming.
Leon blinked.
"…Was that accurate?"
Interesting.
Maybe his real talent wasn't shooting—
It was throwing.
He grabbed an empty AK from the ground, crushed it into a compact metal mass, and hurled it deliberately at the fleeing man's head.
The makeshift projectile reached its target in a fraction of a second—
But only clipped part of the man's ear.
"Pulling left," Leon muttered thoughtfully.
Still—
Promising.
With practice, he might reach Captain America-level shield precision.
Arcee's voice chimed in through comms.
"Leon. Yinsen's family located. They were hiding in a concealed cellar. Do you want them brought to you?"
"No. Take them somewhere safe. Tony and I will finish up."
"…Be careful."
"With you saying that? I won't lose a single hair."
Leon ended the call.
He summoned his shield back from the System Storage Space, launched it cleanly—
And bisected the bearded leader at the waist.
Clean.
Efficient.
Retrieving both shield and pistol, Leon turned—
Just in time to see Tony crash-land nearby.
The Mark III Armor was visibly damaged—scorched plating, impact dents, one large crater from an anti-aircraft shell.
"Well, if it isn't Iron Man," Leon teased. "Need a hand?"
"I've got it—"
Tony attempted to stand.
Failed.
"…Okay. Maybe a hand."
Leon laughed and hauled him upright effortlessly.
Together, they cleared the remaining militants from Gulmira.
Soon, only displaced villagers remained.
They gathered around the brothers, kneeling in gratitude.
Leon couldn't understand most of what they were saying—
But the meaning was obvious.
"Feels good?" Leon asked.
Tony looked out at the ruined town.
"At first… yeah."
"Now?"
"Mostly grief."
"This is just the beginning. There's more work ahead."
Leon smiled slightly.
"Then let Yinsen handle the rebuilding."
Tony nodded.
The brothers rose into the sky once more.
Under the villagers' reverent gazes—
They accelerated horizontally—
And vanished beyond the horizon.
◇ BONUS & SUPPORT ◇
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 10 reviews — drop a comment!
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 100 Power Stones.
◇ Read 70 chapters ahead on P@treon → patreon.com/Sagamaster789