Chapter 383

"JARVIS, prepare the fleet, warm all weapons, disengage security protocols, and open fire on the surface the moment I give the order—we must eliminate this damn thing."

As he spoke, Stark manipulated the panel on his arm, but just as he was about to mobilize the fleet, he suddenly noticed his vision growing hazy; he asked, "What's going on? What's obstructing my view?"

"Sir, sensors detect a type of fog."

"Fog?"

"All sensors activated. You may switch between visual modes. Environmental scan complete… visual mode switched."

"Note: this new vision uses magical energy. Current magical reserves in the armor are insufficient. Replace the core energy source immediately, or equip armor compatible with magical energy…"

Stark's vision suddenly changed, but he felt no surprise—it was an invention of his own from long ago. In that moment of ascension, he had infused part of his armor with magical energy; in a sense, he had mastered magic.

As the hazy fog gradually cleared, Stark widened his eyes and cursed, "Damn it! What the hell is that???"

Before him loomed a colossal, indescribably strange sun—a massive entity formed of deep gray mist, each bizarre pattern radiating terrifying magical power capable of inducing screams.

Stark involuntarily stepped back; before he could activate his scanners, another colossal form appeared—a black bat of impossible, grotesque shape, its entire body surging with tidal waves of black fluid.

In the instant these two forces collided, Stark's vision blurred again; an alarm blared in his ear: "Warning: energy reserves critically low. Replace core energy source immediately, sir—or authorize me to initiate emergency protocols…"

Stark did not hesitate. He spread his arms, and mechanical limbs extended from near his chestplate, opening the energy core compartment. He removed the original core and replaced it with a new one pulsing with magical light—the product of Shiler's later recharging.

Stark closed his eyes, feeling the power surging within his body. Though far weaker than when he first accessed it, it now responded as effortlessly as an extension of his own will.

Then he ascended to higher altitudes, observing the strange, eerily beautiful battle through his specialized vision.

It was a sight he had never seen, a sensation he had never felt. He could clearly perceive every symbiotic factor fighting and devouring one another—in the microscopic realm, wave after wave of army-scale assaults launched, colliding, shattering, and reforming.

In the pitch-black city skyline, the same living hell of battle erupted as before, an invisible, ferocious conflict spreading across the city—this time more frenzied, more reckless, more heart-stopping.

The newly arrived Hive: "…?"

When he emitted this question mark, it did not mean he had a question—it meant he thought these humans were insane.

Hive had been watching all of this from the start, but he had paid it no mind. To him, how many buildings fell or how many lives were lost mattered nothing. His sole goal had always been to counterattack Earth—and such a rare opportunity to observe humanity's current strength? He welcomed it.

Yet the longer he watched, the more wrong it felt. The sudden appearance of the unknown fleet, the two lunatics who seemed to be performing a play yet inspired inexplicable terror—Hive felt like a cultivator who had secluded himself for a hundred years, only to find the entire world transformed.

He vaguely recalled the era when he left Earth: most humans still cowered in crude huts, praying to heaven, deifying those with special abilities as gods.

How in the world had his base been running for just a while, and already their very forms of life had changed? What were this fog and this… sludge?

Just as he pondered this, a loud "thwack!"—he was knocked off balance by Venom's sudden sharp turn. These two monsters were already larger than him, and in combat, they showed no restraint, unleashing every technique, chasing and dodging, collateral damage inevitable.

Poor Hive, who had just arrived, took seven blows in three steps.

"How dare you!! How dare you treat the great Hive like this!!!"

The moment he finished shouting, he saw a streak of aurora rising on the horizon. Hive assumed it was starlight—until he realized it was a cannon muzzle of unimaginable size, now charging with energy that froze the soul.

With the magical energy core installed, Stark once again unlocked the infinite wisdom of his mind. Though insufficient power prevented him from breaking beyond a single universe, he still stood once more at the apex of this universe.

Though he no longer possessed the transcendent perspective beyond the cosmos, his power had not diminished much. The mechanical army materialized again—and this time, Stark chose to conduct a different experiment.

Inspired by Loki's description of the Bifrost Bridge, Stark recalled humanity's greatest innate talents: first, making bombs; second, making cannons.

Range determines the scope of truth; caliber determines its intensity.

Thus, the arriving mechanical army no longer evolved incrementally—it transformed instantly into adaptive components, forming a cannon of absurdly massive caliber.

As for energy, it was drawn directly from the star. Once all mechanical systems reached full power, the muzzle blazed with light like a star itself—instantly.

Soon, Hive realized these humans hadn't merely altered their forms—they had developed black technology from nowhere.

The cannon's light erupted. It was meant for Hive—but the two colossal monsters' battlefield was too vast. The beam struck not only Hive's primary tentacles but also vaporized portions of the symbiotic factors.

Instantly, Stark noticed both monsters turning their gaze toward him. He snorted coldly: "Who let you both enter my strike zone?"

The gray fog and Venom, locked in combat, had no interest in his explanation. Their symbiotic factors broke free from their struggle and surged together toward Stark.

"The Lone Step to Immortality"

Stark showed no fear. He spread his arms, magical radiance swirling around him. Soon, with faint mechanical whirring, a silvery armor of flowing light enveloped his body.

In Stark's eyes, brilliant white light flared. As the armor neared his face, it thinned into a translucent magical shield. His faceplate vanished, replaced by a semi-transparent mask etched with strange patterns, covering only his eyes—data streams flowing across its surface.

Simultaneously, more armor units unfolded, assembling into bizarre weapons. As all systems activated their energy draw simultaneously, the star dimmed.

The battle between the mechanical army and the symbiotic titans began—macro and micro conflicts erupted at once, visible and invisible light exploded together, engine roars and spellcasting harmonized.

Squadrons shimmering with peculiar luster darted through slime and fog like razor blades, leaving ripples in their wake. Heavy-caliber artillery thundered continuously as Venom and the gray fog shifted forms, layer upon layer wrapping toward Stark.

Stark refused to yield. He quickly developed sonic and flame weapons tailored to symbiotes—but these two special symbiotes resisted them strongly. Then Stark pulled out… a high-power vacuum cleaner.

Hive, watching the entire battle: "!!!"

Before he could even process his shock, the battlefield began spreading uncontrollably toward his direction—or rather, the entire planet had become their arena. No one would be spared.

Steve stood atop a skyscraper, shouting at Stark: "What the hell are you doing?! Stop! Why are you attacking Venom?! He's on our side!"

Steve gritted his teeth, angry. He raised his shield again to block a sweeping beam. Peter swung in on a webline beside him, equally confused: "What's going on? Why are Venom and Mr. Stark fighting?"

"I don't know—but I know we need to punch Stark and snap him out of it!"

As the battle intensified, no one noticed the gray fog suddenly vanish from the battlefield.

On the lightship's deck, Shiler slowly materialized, removed his smiling mask, and exhaled: "What a hassle."

As he walked toward the ship's interior, he spoke to the gray fog: "I never thought you'd be weak to a vacuum cleaner."

The gray fog protested: "That's not a vacuum cleaner! Where's the vacuum cleaner that's two hundred kilometers long?!"

"Alright, then. It seems your species' weakness, besides fire and sonic waves, now includes a really big vacuum cleaner."

He entered the ship's cabin, muttering to himself: "While Stark's distracted, let me find the comm unit… ah, here it is…"

"Hello? This is Shiler. Are you Professor Xavier? I need your help. Here's the situation…"

Back on Hive's homeworld, Hive decided he could no longer sit idle. If these humans kept fighting like this, nothing would remain of the planet.

He prepared to act—when suddenly, a small circular shield intercepted his attack. Steve spoke grimly: "Fine. If Iron Man refuses to do his job, I'll handle it."

Just as Steve moved to strike, Stark's cold voice rang out: "Move."

A crackling disintegration beam struck Hive's tentacle.

Hive's entire body consisted of countless massive tentacles and a head identical to those monsters. The beam struck the tentacles surrounding his head, causing Hive to scream in agony.

Steve grew even angrier. He realized Stark wasn't trying to defeat the enemy—he was deliberately provoking him.

Seeing Steve's fury, Stark's expression remained unchanged. Countless streams of data flowed through his eyes; the light within them intensified.

At that moment, everyone heard a sharp "zzzzt"—then a deafening, earth-shaking roar.

A massive yellow figure leapt from a portal—a giant as large as a mountain. When he landed, the ground trembled. He slammed his fist against his chest and roared: "HULK!!!"