In the spectator section, Jane Foster watched Tony's bombardment with a mixture of awe and horror. "He's just... dropping explosives from the sky. That's his entire strategy."
Darcy shrugged, eyes glued to the holographic screen showing multiple angles of the devastation. "It's working though. Look at that damage."
"But imagine if he upgraded to tactical nuclear weapons," Jane said, the physicist in her running calculations. "Small yield warheads instead of conventional explosives. He'd be unstoppable."
"Jane!" Darcy's eyes widened. "That's terrifying. You just made Iron Man scarier."
"I'm just saying—from a purely theoretical standpoint—his armor platform could deliver strategic ordinance that would make him more dangerous than most military forces."
Smith Doyle, hovering outside the ring with Piccolo's enhanced hearing, caught every word of their conversation. His expression remained neutral, but internally he grimaced.
Let's hope Tony never has that particular thought, Smith mused. The last thing New York needs is a flying billionaire with tactical nukes.
The government would never permit it—the collateral damage and radiation would be catastrophic. And more importantly, Tony himself wouldn't accept it. Conventional explosives could be controlled, targeted. Even small tactical nuclear weapons created blast zones measured in city blocks.
Tony Stark might be reckless, but he wasn't suicidal.
Below, in the center of the inferno Tony had created, the ten rings pulsed with brilliant blue light.
The energy coalesced into a dome, a perfect sphere of force that had shielded Xu Wenwu from every explosion, every fragment, every calorie of heat. The protective barrier shimmered, alien technology meeting human engineering and effortlessly winning.
Xu Wenwu stood in the eye of the storm, completely relaxed.
The rings vibrated, and blue light washed outward in a wave. Flames extinguished instantly as the energy passed through them, oxygen consumed or displaced. Within seconds, the fires that had consumed the arena floor died to smoking embers.
The smoke cleared.
Xu Wenwu stood revealed, his clothing unmarked, his expression amused.
Tony, still hovering high above, felt his stomach drop. Of course, he thought bitterly. Of course he's fine.
But he wasn't done yet.
Tony brought his wrists together, forearm-mounted systems engaging. Twin red laser beams erupted from his gauntlets, converging on Xu Wenwu's position.
These weren't repulsors. These were cutting lasers—the same weapons that had sliced through Hulk's hide during their Malibu sparring session. Concentrated, sustained, capable of melting through tank armor given enough time.
The crimson beams struck the blue protective shield.
For the first time, Xu Wenwu's defense reacted visibly. Ripples spread across the barrier's surface, energy bleeding off in scattered patterns. The shield held, but it was being tested.
Tony increased power output, diverting energy from non-essential systems. The arc reactor in his chest burned brighter, feeding more power to the laser array.
The ripples intensified. The barrier began to distort, bending inward under sustained assault.
Come on, Tony thought, gritting his teeth. Just a little more...
Warning klaxons sounded in his helmet. "Sir, wrist-mounted laser modules are reaching critical temperature. Failure imminent."
"Just five more seconds—"
"Module failure in three... two..."
The lasers cut out with a sharp electronic whine, the gauntlets venting steam from overheated components.
Xu Wenwu smiled up at him. "I thought you were close to breaking through. Almost had me worried."
With a casual gesture, Xu Wenwu dismissed the protective shield. The barrier dissolved into motes of blue light that faded like dying stars.
Then he placed one hand flat against the ground.
The ten rings responded instantly, launching him upward with tremendous force. Xu Wenwu shot into the air like a missile, covering the distance to Tony in a heartbeat.
The rings detached from his arms, forming a single line—ten circles of cosmic metal aligning into a whip of pure devastation.
Tony saw it coming a fraction of a second too late.
Move! his mind screamed, but his armor was already reacting, thrusters firing to evade.
Not fast enough.
CLANG!
The ring-whip struck with the force of a runaway train. Sparks exploded across Tony's armor as the cosmic metal tore through advanced alloys like tissue paper. The impact sent him spinning, repulsors failing, flight systems screaming errors.
Tony plummeted.
He struck the arena floor with a thunderous crash that cracked the already-damaged surface. Metal shrieked. Warning lights flooded his HUD in a cascade of red.
Tony groaned, the impact having transmitted through the armor despite its shock absorption systems. Every muscle ached. His chest felt like someone had hit it with a sledgehammer.
"JARVIS," he rasped, "damage report."
"Sir, catastrophic structural failure in multiple zones. Arms compromised. Legs damaged. Flight systems offline. Arc reactor reserves at forty percent and dropping."
The display showed his armor lit up like a Christmas tree—red damage indicators on arms, legs, chest, back. Only the arc reactor core remained green.
Tony tilted his head back, seeing Xu Wenwu descending gracefully. The thousand-year-old warlord landed as softly as a feather, the ten rings returning to his forearms with barely a sound.
He's not even breathing hard, Tony realized with bitter clarity. I hit him with everything I had. Repulsors, missiles, bombs, lasers. And he looks like he just finished a light workout.
"Sir, I strongly recommend immediate withdrawal," JARVIS said. "Continued combat will result in total armor failure."
Tony tried to stand. Servos whined in protest, but the armor responded. Barely.
Xu Wenwu watched him struggle to his feet, making no move to press the attack. Professional courtesy, perhaps. Or simply confidence that Tony posed no further threat.
Tony looked at his opponent—unharmed, relaxed, holding two Dragon Ball coins to Tony's one.
He could keep fighting. Pride demanded it. Stubbornness insisted.
But tactical analysis won out over ego.
"I yield," Tony said, the words tasting like ashes.
Smith Doyle appeared between them so quickly it seemed like teleportation. One hand caught Xu Wenwu's wrist—gently but firmly—preventing any possibility of a final strike.
"Winner: Xu Wenwu!"
The arena erupted in applause and cheers. The upset victory—the underestimated immortal defeating the famous superhero—had the crowd roaring approval.
Tony stood in the wreckage of his armor, listening to them celebrate his defeat.
Well, he thought with dark humor, at least I made it interesting.
Among the Eternals, Thena studied Xu Wenwu with newfound respect. "Those rings are unusual. The energy signature doesn't match any technology I've seen in five thousand years."
"Cosmic artifacts," Gilgamesh rumbled. "Has to be. Nothing terrestrial generates that kind of power."
"He'll be a worthy opponent," Thena said, her competitive nature rising. "I look forward to testing myself against him."
Throughout the spectator sections, conversations buzzed with analysis and speculation.
"How are his children so weak when their father is that strong?" someone asked.
"Genetics don't work that way for martial artists," another replied. "Power comes from training and artifacts, not bloodline."
"Two coins now," a third observer noted. "He's the favorite to win."
On the holographic display, a visual representation showed one of Tony's Dragon Ball coins moving to Xu Wenwu's column. The warlord now held two of the seven required for victory.
Tony stood in the wreckage, his armor sparking and venting steam. He tapped his helmet. "JARVIS, deploy the Mark 42."
"Sir, are you certain? The secondary adamantium suit was reserved for—"
"I know what it was reserved for," Tony interrupted. "And I just learned the hard way that gold-titanium isn't going to cut it against these opponents. If Xu Wenwu can tear through my armor like aluminum foil, what's Thor going to do? Or Thena?"
He looked up at the sky, calculating orbital trajectories. "Deploy the Mark 42. I'm not fighting the rest of this tournament in a damaged suit held together by prayers and spare parts."
"Deploying now, sir."
In low Earth orbit, aboard the Seraph satellite platform, mechanical systems engaged. A pod bay opened, revealing an elliptical container roughly the size of a lifeboat.