In the Hell's Kitchen dimension—
Just as Strange predicted, the battle was nearing its end. Except for a few high-level reincarnators still engaged in combat, the rest—ordinary participants—had either been defeated or had completed their missions.
Alex Ray stood on the edge of the battlefield, silently watching. He had to admit, among the reincarnators, there were some truly formidable warriors.
The battle that drew his attention most was the clash between Tony Stark and the snake-skinned monster known as Mr. E.
There was no denying it—E had both power and flair.
Especially after ascending into the Main God Space, E's overall strength had skyrocketed to a whole new tier.
In Alex's view, this version of Tony was already far stronger than his original timeline counterpart. While not quite on par with Thanos, Tony now possessed the strength to go toe-to-toe with the Mad Titan.
And yet, it wasn't enough. Not against E.
This creature—Ebert Evolto—drawn from the Kamen Rider universe, was a cosmic lifeform. His might was nothing short of divine. The aura he emanated, the way he manipulated the battlefield, reminded Alex of Alioth—a creature that devoured timelines.
Even if the genuine Kamen Rider Build, Kiryu Banjou, arrived now in his Great Smart form, he still wouldn't be E's match.
That Tony could survive this long against Ebert with just his base form—it was already a testament to his brilliance.
"You really don't need my help?" Strange asked, frowning beside Alex. Though he rarely saw eye-to-eye with Tony, he couldn't ignore the fact that Stark was on the verge of death.
"No," Alex replied firmly. "You know your battlefield isn't here. Dormammu's arrival is imminent."
Strange stared hard at him, but Alex continued, "Don't worry. Believe in Tony. You know him—this is his fight."
He hadn't said it aloud, but Alex already understood the crux of the matter.
Ever since his arrival in this universe, he had made many of Earth's heroes stronger. And while that was a blessing for some, it had become a curse for others.
It was a double-edged sword for Tony.
By handing him the Build Driver, Alex had certainly given Tony the tools to surpass his limits. He could now craft a wide variety of transformation forms and combat templates.
But Alex had also unintentionally boxed Tony in.
Tony Stark was never meant to be confined. His genius thrived in freedom, in the chaos of invention and self-determination. Caging that spirit—however well-meaning—was always going to backfire.
Alex was sure Tony had realized this too. That's likely why he refused to transform from the beginning.
"Whether he breaks through this ceiling… depends on this very battle."
At the top of the Stark Industries building, the structure had been reduced to rubble—like a toy crushed beneath a cosmic toddler's foot. Half of the building was completely gone.
In the heart of the wreckage, Tony lay half-buried in debris, armor cracked and sizzling. Blood ran down his face, sweat and grime caking his skin. But his eyes—his eyes still burned with defiance.
"Ha… ha… ha…" Every breath was laced with agony, his ribs groaning with protest.
Ebert didn't move. He lounged calmly at a nearby table, watching Tony. There was no urgency to kill—only a quiet amusement.
"You look conflicted," Ebert said, a faint smirk playing across his lips. "What are you hesitating for?"
"I can see it—your resistance to transformation. Why? You know you're far stronger with that power than in your tin-can arsenal."
He gestured lazily toward the broken remains of Tony's armor. "That energy—people would kill for it. The Grand Slam Bottle. The Knight System. The Driver. All yours, and yet you hesitate."
There was a glint of appreciation in Ebert's eyes. He truly found Tony fascinating. A rare spark in this otherwise dull mission.
He didn't care about completing objectives anymore. What he missed most were the days spent with those foolish boys back at the café. This whole skirmish—this "task"—was just a way to feel something again.
Even now, Ebert could sense a terrifying force observing them from beyond. Something stronger than even him. He wasn't sure if it was Alex, Dormammu, or something else. But it was enough to keep him cautious.
And so, he didn't kill Tony. Not out of mercy, but because Tony was... interesting.
Tony coughed violently, crimson splashing across the broken ground. He forced himself up, inch by painful inch, staggering to his feet.
His entire body screamed in protest, but he stood tall.
Then… his expression changed. The fire in his eyes dimmed. His vision blurred—not from damage, but memory.
He chuckled bitterly, a sound laced with both mockery and self-loathing.
The movement tore open another wound in his side, drawing a ragged gasp from his lips. "S…"
In his palm, the Grand Slam Bottle glowed with a cold, alien light. It thrummed with power—power he had never fully embraced.
"I was never meant to be a knight," Tony rasped. "Or a hero."
"I was just a rich guy who wanted to enjoy life."
He shook his head. "Then Alex Ray came along and turned my life into a goddamn anime."
"Every few months, another weirdo wants to blow up the Earth. And every time, I'm reminded that money can't fix it. That raw strength is the only real currency out here."
He laughed, his voice hoarse. "He really earned the title 'Lord of Hell.' Ever since I started following him, I've faced one universe-breaking threat after another."
"And yet… it's because of him the Earth's still here."
Tony's voice grew quiet.
"I'm just a man. A brilliant, good-looking, charming billionaire, sure—but still, just a man."
He looked down at the Grand Slam Bottle, and then, slowly, deliberately… crushed it.
Blue light exploded from his hand, spiraling around him like stardust. It shimmered—beautiful, mysterious, free.
His gaze sharpened again, eyes blazing with clarity.
"I'm not a superhero."
"I'm not a Kamen Rider."
"I am… a playboy."
He grinned.
"But if you really need to call me something…"
The wind picked up. Shards of metal and broken armor rose around him, pulled by an unseen magnetic force. Plates snapped together. Circuits aligned.
The Mark Armor rebuilt itself in midair.
As the shining red-and-gold suit formed around him, locking into place, Tony raised his head and declared—
"Call me Iron Man."