The holographic screen shifted, displaying a new image that drew immediate recognition from half the crowd.
"Our third competitor," Eddie announced, his voice carrying theatrical flair, "Tony Stark—also known as Iron Man!"
The footage showed Tony in his Mark III armor, repulsors blazing as he flew through the New York skyline. Action shots of combat, the arc reactor glowing in his chest, the suit's seamless transformation from briefcase to full armor.
"Tony Stark," Eddie continued, pacing the arena, "is the only competitor in this tournament who possesses two Dragon Balls. Genius inventor, billionaire industrialist, and superhero. He's been called many things—playboy, philanthropist, futurist. But today, he's simply a warrior seeking his wish."
Eddie paused, letting the drama build. "And he's also the only competitor participating in the Dragon Ball tournament for the second time. In the previous competition, Tony fought his way to the finals, only to forfeit the championship match. Today, he returns for another chance at victory."
The spotlight found Tony in the premium seating section. His faceplate was retracted, revealing his characteristic confident smile. He stood, raised one armored hand in acknowledgment, and the arc reactor in his chest pulsed with blue-white light.
Pepper squeezed his other hand supportively. Happy looked faintly nauseous—he'd never gotten comfortable with Tony's tendency to put himself in mortal danger.
Thor leaned forward with interest, studying the armored figure. "He's competed before? Impressive dedication." Then a thought occurred to him, and his expression turned slightly sympathetic. "Though it seems cruel, in a way. To gather Dragon Balls across two tournaments and never claim a wish."
"Maybe he hasn't figured out what he wants yet," Jane suggested, her scientific mind already cataloguing the armor's visible technology.
Darcy shook her head. "What could a billionaire genius possibly need to wish for? He can already build anything, buy anything..."
"Perhaps that's exactly the problem," Jane murmured. "When you can have almost everything, what's left to wish for?"
Among the competitors, reactions varied sharply.
T'Challa studied Tony with renewed respect. Participating twice suggested either desperate need or unshakeable determination. Either way, it marked him as someone who wouldn't surrender easily.
Ivan Vanko, sitting in the enhanced spectator section, watched his professional rival with mixed feelings. Tony had two Dragon Balls, which meant two coins, which meant two lives in the tournament.
Strategic advantage, Ivan thought. Though knowing Tony, he'll find some way to make it dramatic.
Xu Wenwu barely glanced at the armored figure. Technology was a tool, nothing more. Against a thousand years of combat mastery and the cosmic power of the Ten Rings, what could mere machines accomplish?
The spotlight faded, and Eddie's voice rose with anticipation.
"Our fourth competitor—and I guarantee this will surprise you—Thor Odinson, God of THUNDER!"
The screen erupted with footage that seemed pulled from myth itself. Thor wielding Mjolnir, lightning crackling across his body. Clouds darkening overhead as he channeled storm itself. The Destroyer battle in New Mexico, captured by S.H.I.E.L.D. surveillance and somehow acquired by the Fraternity's intelligence network.
"Son of Odin, prince of Asgard, wielder of Mjolnir," Eddie proclaimed, his voice carrying genuine awe. "Thor Odinson is the living embodiment of Norse mythology. The stories you heard as children? The legends of the thunder god who defended the Nine Realms? He's standing in this audience right now."
The arena exploded with noise.
People shot to their feet, craning to see. Gasps and exclamations rippled through the crowd like shockwaves. Even the enhanced spectators—vampires and werewolves and operatives who'd seen impossible things—reacted with visible shock.
A god. An actual god was competing.
The spotlight found Thor, who stood with easy grace. He wore his Asgardian battle armor, the red cape falling dramatically from his shoulders. Mjolnir hung at his belt, the hammer's presence making the air feel heavier, charged with potential lightning.
Thor raised his hand in a friendly wave, his smile warm and genuine. He wished his friends could be here—Sif and the Warriors Three would have loved this spectacle.
Heimdall, I hope you're watching, Thor thought. Let them know their prince fights with honor.
He had no way of knowing that Heimdall had indeed been watching his every move since he arrived on Earth, reporting everything to Odin. Including the fact that Thor had spent more time with Jane Foster than actually hunting for more Dragon Balls.
Among the Eternals, Kingo leaned forward with a broad grin. "Think he remembers us? We fought alongside the Asgardians against the Frost Giants years ago."
"That was a long time ago," Gilgamesh rumbled. "Even for gods."
Ikaris studied Thor with professional assessment. "He'll be Thena's primary threat. Divine power, millennia of combat experience, weapons forged in cosmic fires."
Thena smiled, sharp and confident. "Then I'll show him how a real warrior fights."
Tony Stark's reaction was considerably less enthusiastic.
"JARVIS," he muttered, "please tell me we accounted for gods in the armor specifications."
"The Mark 21 was designed to combat enhanced individuals up to approximately 200 on the power scale, sir," JARVIS replied. "I have no data on Asgardian combat capabilities."
"Fantastic." Tony activated his Scouter, targeting Thor. "Let's at least get a reading on—"
The device's screen spiked immediately, numbers climbing beyond 500 and continuing upward.
Then it exploded.
The Scouter module in Tony's armor sparked and died, circuits frying from the overload. Small wisps of smoke curled from the damaged unit.
"Sir, the Scouter has suffered catastrophic failure," JARVIS reported unnecessarily.
Tony wasn't alone.
Throughout the audience, similar reactions occurred. Ivan Vanko's Scouter exploded with a sharp crack. Selene's device shattered in her hand. Marcus's screen went dark after displaying an error message. Shuri's tablet-connected Scouter showed a string of warning symbols before the entire module burned out.
Shuri stared at the smoking wreckage, then looked at her brother with wide eyes. "T'Challa. His power level exceeded five hundred. By a lot. The Scouter couldn't even finish calculating before it failed."
T'Challa felt cold certainty settle in his stomach. He'd been enhanced by the heart-shaped herb, trained since childhood, equipped with vibranium armor. His power level was twenty-two.
Thor had just destroyed every Scouter in the arena simply by existing at full power.
The gap was insurmountable.
Xu Wenwu's expression, casual and dismissive throughout the previous introductions, turned deadly serious. His daughter's Scouter had been destroyed. That meant Thor's power exceeded 500, but the exact number remained unknown.
Finally, Xu Wenwu thought, a real challenge.
The Ten Rings on his arms pulsed with energy, responding to his focus. A thousand years of searching for worthy opponents, and now a god stood ready to test him.
Eddie let the crowd's excitement build for a long moment before continuing.
"And our fifth competitor—Xu Wenwu, leader of the Ten Rings!"
The screen showed footage that the Fraternity had compiled: Xu Wenwu in combat across various decades, the distinctive rings on his arms unleashing devastating force. Ancient temples. Modern battlefields. A warrior who'd walked through centuries.
"Xu Wenwu has lived for over one thousand years," Eddie explained, his voice carrying appropriate gravitas. "Commander of the Ten Rings organization, master of martial arts from a dozen cultures, wielder of cosmic artifacts that grant him power beyond mortal limits."
The spotlight found Xu Wenwu, who stood with perfect composure. Behind him, Shang-Chi and Xialing rose as well, showing familial support despite the complicated history between them.
"He's also the father of previous tournament participants Xu Xialing and Shang-Chi," Eddie added. "Both of whom competed admirably in the last Dragon Ball battle."
That addition proved to be a double-edged sword.
Those who'd watched the previous tournament remembered Xialing and Shang-Chi—skilled fighters by human standards, but ultimately eliminated in the middle rounds. The association colored their perception of Xu Wenwu.
If his children couldn't advance past the quarterfinals, many spectators reasoned, how dangerous can the father really be?
Among the ordinary audience members, whispers spread:
"Lived a thousand years? Must be tough."
"Yeah, but his kids lost pretty early last time..."
"Maybe he's just good by normal standards. Against a god? He's outmatched."
The enhanced spectators were more divided. Some dismissed Xu Wenwu based on his children's performance. Others recognized that longevity alone demanded respect—you didn't survive a millennium without being exceptionally dangerous.
The competitors themselves showed more wisdom.
Thor regarded Xu Wenwu with genuine interest. A thousand years was significant even by Asgardian standards. This was no ordinary mortal warrior.
Karl Mordo studied the rings on Xu Wenwu's forearms with mystic senses, detecting power that resonated on frequencies similar to dimensional artifacts. What manner of relics are those? he wondered. And more importantly—how had this man survived a thousand years? Even the Sorcerer Supreme extended her life through careful manipulation of time and dimensional energy. What method had Xu Wenwu employed?
Thena and her fellow Eternals paid close attention. Immortality was their nature, but for a human to achieve millennium-long life? That suggested either cosmic intervention or artifacts of significant power.
T'Challa activated a backup Scouter Shuri had wisely brought, attempting to scan Xu Wenwu.
The device immediately exploded, even more violently than the previous one.
"Brother!" Shuri grabbed his arm, checking for injuries from the sparking fragments.
T'Challa stared at the destroyed device, then at Xu Wenwu, understanding dawning like cold water.
Everyone's been focused on Thor, he realized. But this one might be just as dangerous.
The spotlight faded, and Eddie raised the microphone once more.
"And our sixth and final competitor—"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Writing takes time, coffee, and a lot of love.If you'd like to support my work, join me at [email protected]/GoldenGaruda
You'll get early access to over 50 chapters, selection on new series, and the satisfaction of knowing your support directly fuels more stories.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~