"Healed? The shrapnel... all taken out?" Tony repeated her words subconsciously, every word feeling like he was chewing on some incomprehensible fantasy.
He looked down sharply again, staring intently at his chest, which was as good as new, as if trying to see inside through his skin.
He tried taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling, his breath long and steady; he moved his shoulders and arms, his joints flexible, his muscles responding swiftly; he even raised his hand and pounded his chest hard—there was no expected sharp pain or dull thud, only the firm, powerful, and healthy feedback from his muscles and bones, along with an indescribable sense of relief and exhilaration after casting off all shackles.
"This... how did you do it? This is impossible! The location of that shrapnel... modern medicine is completely helpless! And this wound..."
His gaze turned to Artoria again, his eyes filled with extreme shock, disbelief, and a complex surge of emotions like a tidal wave, mixed with gratitude, confusion, and a strong desire to investigate.
"I used a... rather special method."
Artoria tilted her head slightly, offering no detailed explanation, but the natural, compassionate curve of her lips deepened slightly, forming a warm and inclusive smile.
Framed by the holy halo that still lingered around her, that smile appeared particularly soul-stirring, yet it also carried a hint of natural detachment, one that did not allow mortals to easily pry into its mysteries.
She stood up, her figure in the Aerith form tall and elegant, the phantom of the staff in her hand shimmering slightly with her movements.
"Now is not the time for this, Tony. Obadiah Stane has taken the reactor; he must have a greater scheme. Furthermore, Potts is likely in danger. He previously attempted to access Potts's itinerary and security information."
"Potts!" This name was like the most potent stimulant, or a lightning bolt carrying thunder, instantly striking Tony!
All the shock, bewilderment, and disbelief and confusion regarding his miraculous recovery were completely replaced and swept away in this moment by a more violent, searing rage and bone-deep worry!
He leaped up from the floor, his movements so fluid and swift that even he was slightly surprised—the vitality and sense of power contained within this reborn, completely healthy body were so unfamiliar, yet so exhilarating.
"Jarvis! Obadiah Stane's real-time location! Potts's current status!" His voice regained its habitual, metallic decisiveness, only colder and sharper than at any time before.
"Obadiah Stane's vehicle signal is heading at high speed toward the 'Black Stone' private dock on the North Shore of Long Island."
"Ms. Potts is currently still in the penthouse apartment of Stark Tower, and her physiological indicators and security monitoring show she is in a normal state."
"However, the Stark Tower core security system detected a total of three abnormal data access requests from Mr. Stane's high-level credentials before and after the attack. The targets of these requests deeply involved Ms. Potts's real-time location, daily itinerary details, and penthouse security protocols. The aforementioned requests have been successfully intercepted by me, and I have fed back carefully disguised false information."
Jarvis reported rapidly and clearly, every word exuding efficiency and calmness.
"The dock... what does he want to do with my reactor? Test that plagiarized, oversized, hideous hunk of metal? Or conduct a deal with some rats in the gutter?"
Tony's eyes were as cold as Siberian permafrost, his brain working like a high-speed supercomputer, instantly analyzing multiple possibilities. Rage burned fiercely in his chest, yet it was strangely governed by an even colder rationality.
"Potts... he must still want to make a move against Potts, to eliminate the final and most important obstacle. He must not be allowed to succeed!"
His gaze, like a precision-calibrated laser, swept sharply toward the depths of the laboratory, to that streamlined, silver-gray silhouette covered by heavy canvas.
"Jarvis, activate Mark 2! Highest priority!"
"Mark 2 prototype, self-test complete, all systems ready, awaiting end-user instructions."
The canvas parted to both sides with a slight mechanical sliding sound. Under the lights, the set of silver-gray metal armor, which condensed countless efforts of Tony and was full of extreme industrial aesthetics and futuristic technology, was fully revealed. It stood quietly yet filled with a sense of power ready to be unleashed on the special assembly rack, like a silent, loyal steel giant, waiting for its king, its creator, its other half of the soul.
Tony did not hesitate at all, striding toward his armor.
His steps were steady and full of power, each one landing firmly. That body, just snatched back from the scythe of the God of Death, now radiating unprecedented vitality and vigor, stood as straight as a pine, exuding an unstoppable, resolute aura.
He stood still in front of the armor, as if facing his closest partner, his most trusted weapon, and slowly opened his arms.
Jarvis. It's time for us to clean house.
The mechanical structure on the assembly rack emitted a low, smooth hum and began precise coordination.
The silver-gray armor components seemed to be infused with life in an instant. Amidst a series of dazzling yet orderly mechanical transformation and assembly sounds, the chest plate, arm guards, leg guards, back plate, helmet... separated from the rack one by one, flew up, traced short arcs, and precisely attached, fitted, and locked onto the corresponding parts of Tony's body.
The crisp and pleasant "click" sounds of metal and composite materials colliding and interlocking, and the slight "hiss" of the hydraulic system, were like the steady breathing of the armor.
The entire process was as fast as lightning, yet filled with the sacred ritualistic sense of power being born and becoming one.
Finally, the faceplate, flickering with a deep blue light, fell with a soft "clang," fitting perfectly and covering Tony's face, leaving only those two cold, deep blue glimmers in the eyes, full of intelligence and majesty.
Iron Man, on this night of rebirth, after this miraculous healing, at this moment of determination to purge internal enemies and protect what he loves, officially stood before the world, no longer bound, no longer with hidden ailments, only the will of steel and a burning mission.
He (Iron Man) slowly turned around, his helmet-covered head tilting slightly, that deep blue, cold gaze (via high-precision external sensors) landing on Artoria.
The optical sensors under the faceplate seemed to capture and analyze the unique energy spectrum and life field around her. The deep blue light flickered and dimmed imperceptibly for a moment. Complex, indescribable emotions—extreme gratitude, shock, confusion, and a deeper touch that even he might not fully understand—were perfectly obscured and hidden by the cold, hard metal faceplate.
"Artoria," Iron Man's voice came out through high-quality external speakers, carrying a unique, processed metallic texture and reverb, yet it was clearer, steadier, and filled with a sense of accumulated power than ever before. "Thank you. Once again, at my most desperate moment, you appeared, not only saving my life but also... giving me a truly brand-new, complete beginning."
He paused, his gaze under the faceplate seeming to "stare" at her more intently. "This debt of gratitude is too heavy. I, Tony Stark, will remember it."
He seemed to want to say something more, perhaps a question, perhaps a promise, but in the end, all the words turned into a simpler, yet more solemn statement: "I must go to the dock now, deal with Obadiah Stane, and take back what belongs to me. Then, I will rush to Potts as fast as possible to ensure she is one hundred percent safe."
"Do you need any help?" Artoria looked up at him, the phantom of the "full metal staff" in her hand seeming to sense her mood, the gem at the top flowing with a gentle shimmer.
Aerith's power was still full within her, and that perception closely linked to life allowed her to vaguely sense a chaotic and malicious energy disturbance coming from the direction of the dock.
She felt that she might still be able to do something, such as performing an ultra-long-distance purification or interference.
"This is my fight, Artoria." Iron Man shook his head slowly but with exceptional firmness, his tone unquestionable, carrying a steel-like determination. "You have already done too much, too well. The rest—cleaning house, taking back stolen technology, protecting my own—must be done by me. It's a responsibility, and also... a reckoning."
He shifted his gaze slightly, as if piercing through the walls, looking toward New York. "And, on Potts's side... that companion of yours, Minerva, she is still there, right? I trust you both to protect her for me before I arrive. Leave the dock to me. If..."
He looked at Artoria again, the blue light under the faceplate steady. "If the situation exceeds expectations, if I need tactical support or... medical backup, I will call. Keep the communication lines open."
Artoria quietly met that deep blue "gaze" for a moment, seeing beneath that steel shell the unshakable determination, the sense of responsibility carried, and a pride belonging to Tony Stark, who had finally cast off the shackles of his body and could spread his wings to the fullest.
This was the path of trial he had to walk alone, his rite of passage to truly become "Iron Man," and also his way of protecting the one he loved.
She no longer insisted, just nodded gently, the holy halo around her seeming to ripple softly in response: "Okay. Keep in touch. Be careful, Tony. Obadiah Stane has your reactor; he might..."
"He will only regret what kind of monster he has unleashed." Iron Man interrupted her in a low voice, with no joy or anger discernible in his tone, only absolute coldness and confidence.
The moment his voice fell, the micro-thrusters on his feet and palms suddenly spewed out searing, dazzling blue-white plasma flames, emitting a low and shocking roar that steadily lifted his heavy body of over two hundred kilograms, hovering half a meter above the ground.
"I'm off. See you in New York. Take care, Artoria."
He said the last two words very softly, yet they were exceptionally clear.
No more words, no looking back.
The thruster power increased to maximum in one ten-thousandth of a second, emitting a deafening, violent roar!
The silver-blue steel body instantly turned into a dazzling meteor tearing through the air of the dim laboratory, heading in a nearly straight trajectory with the momentum of a thunderbolt, crashing into and piercing through the reinforced glass dome above the laboratory that was already cracked and teetering due to the previous explosion!
"Boom—crash!!"
The reinforced glass shattered completely under the immense kinetic energy and heat, scattering everywhere!
Iron Man's figure had turned into a blue-white trail of light in the night sky, rapidly moving away, dragging a long, searing trail, speeding toward the North Long Island dock without hesitation, leaving behind only the hole in the dome, the cold night wind pouring in, the gradually dissipating scorching breath, and the faint, rapidly receding sonic boom.
Artoria looked up, standing quietly in the center of the messy laboratory, looking through the broken dome at the trail of light that was rapidly shrinking and finally merging into the deep night sky and the halo of distant city lights, not looking away for a long time.
The night wind stirred her shimmering golden long hair, bringing a chill, but it could not blow away the warm and stable holy halo around her.
She could feel that Aerith's lingering image was still stable, full of power, and that compassion and will to protect, deeply rooted in her bloodline, were becoming clearer.
There were not many ripples in her heart, only a kind of calmness from witnessing the dust settle on an important historical moment, and a faint wish for the journey of that proud friend.
She looked down at the gentle phantom of the staff in her hand, then swept her gaze over the few metal shrapnel pieces on the ground stained with dark red and now harmless, as well as the discarded reactor wreckage that symbolized past shackles and pain.
Tonight, death was reversed, shackles were shattered, and steel could truly soar without hindrance.
And far away in that sleepless giant tower in New York, another silent guardianship was still proceeding calmly and firmly under Minerva's watchful eye.
She let out a soft breath, not from fatigue, but from letting go of a certain emotion.
It was time to leave here.
However, before returning to New York, joining Minerva, and ensuring Potts's absolute safety... she raised her hand, her fingertips gently stroking the gem at the top of the "full metal staff," clear and wise light flowing in her eyes.
Aerith's power could not only be used for healing.
Perhaps, she could give that steel friend who was rushing to the battlefield a small, "off-field" blessing and assistance, and at the same time, make those ill-intentioned voyeurs who might be hiding in the shadows behave a little better.
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