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Arthur had once encountered a simple, profound statement:
"It is easy to gain the Way, but hard to keep it."
He couldn't recall where he'd first read those words, perhaps in one of the endless novels he'd consumed before crossing over, but at this exact moment, they felt like a perfect, crushing weight.
Easy to gain the Way… hard to keep it.
In the world Arthur had crossed into, everyone was taught the clear lines between good and evil, right and wrong.
Yet, simply knowing what goodness was didn't make one good. And even if a person managed to be good, could they truly stay that way for a lifetime?
It was an impossible standard.
Worse still, the world was unforgiving to those who strove for virtue. Let a good person slip up just once, a single mistake in their twilight years, by accident or intent, and every decent thing they ever did was instantly erased.
They would be instantly branded a villain.
"His kindness in the past was all an act," people would sneer. "The person he is now, that is his true self. Deep down, he's always been rotten."
Cruel, yes.
And yet, the world was often far more forgiving to those who were truly despicable. A man could spend his life committing atrocities, killing, burning, destroying, and then, at the very end, perform one solitary good deed.
And people would say, "He was good at heart all along. Everything before was just out of desperation."
Absurd. Ridiculous. But that was the nature of things. It was no wonder so many chose to be bad rather than constantly struggle to be good.
For Arthur, though, the goal wasn't just to live rightly; the goal was simply to remain true.
He realized that ever since he had arrived in this world, everything he did was about protecting something. He guarded his territory. He guarded the fragile peace. He guarded Lily. He guarded the Earth, the universe, and the Superhero Alliance.
That was his purpose, simple, singular, and pure.
And perhaps, in that singular focus, lay the one thing he shared with Hydra.
Hydra, too, was pure in its own terrible way. They had a single goal: world domination. No other loyalties, no complex layers, just that relentless, unshakable obsession. That purity of purpose was why they had endured for decades.
Thinking about it, Arthur offered a faint smile.
"Maybe we can last just as long, never changing our original purpose."
"As long as you're still alive," Tony replied with a firm nod.
Arthur chuckled. "As long as I'm alive."
Tony smirked, eyes glinting. "And I think you'll live a long time. Honestly, I've always wanted to study your physiology."
"Don't joke. That's your aunt's department," Arthur said, his tone dry.
"I'm not joking," Tony insisted, rolling his eyes. "I mean seriously, how the hell did you even get to this level? I swear, even that guy with the giant hammer would be no match for you barehanded."
Arthur laughed, a deep, resonant sound.
"To be precise, even if he had Mjolnir, he still wouldn't be my match." He added with a grin, "But I'd advise you not to try studying me. My existence can't be replicated, there's nothing you could ever learn from it."
Tony shrugged easily.
"Fair enough. Besides, I'd have to be clinically insane to spend my time studying another man's anatomy."
Arthur gave him a pointed, silent look.
"The real issue is, you're terribly unfilial."
Tony froze for a moment. He took a slow, silent sip of his drink, then nodded.
"Yeah… I know. I've always been rebellious. I gave my old man nothing but headaches."
Arthur was taken aback, and then he, too, fell silent.
One name after another rose to his mind, and suddenly, it hit him.
Everything happening now… might just be a continuation of what began seventy years ago.
Sharon… Tony… Agent Carter… Howard…
Figures flickered before his eyes, overlapping like ghosts from another time. He felt as though he had stepped back onto that old battlefield, into that war once more. The roar of artillery in his ears. Blood and broken bodies before his eyes. Countless voices intertwined, forming a grim march of death. It was all happening again… right here.
Arthur closed his eyes, exhaled a long, heavy sigh.
"Tony… about your father's death…"
Tony looked up, his expression neutral.
"Hm?"
Arthur was silent for a long moment before he finally spoke:
"There are things I've kept buried for a long time. I just… never knew how to tell you."
"Wait, wait, wait!" Tony cut him off, waving his hands wildly.
"Stop right there. Let me get my head straight first!"
He quickly took a gulp of his drink, then stared hard at Arthur.
"You're not about to tell me you killed my father, are you? Because I swear, that joke's not funny. And besides, weren't you in stasis back then? What, did you wake up halfway through your nap because you had to pee, and decide, 'Hey, I'll go kill someone before going back to sleep'?"
Arthur just looked at him with a helpless expression. What kind of chaotic nonsense was he spouting? He should have laughed, but he couldn't.
The more exaggerated Tony's reaction became, the more it showed how deeply this mattered to him, and more than that, how afraid he was to hear the truth.
Arthur sighed.
"Calm down first. Even if I had killed someone, it sure as hell wouldn't have been Howard. I'd have killed you instead."
Tony slumped slightly, the tension visibly easing from his shoulders. "Good. Then go on, what do you know?"
A shadow crossed Arthur's face.
"A very bad truth." He said quietly, "It involves a lot of people. That's why I've never been able to bring myself to tell you before."
Tony frowned, staring at him intently.
"You're talking about something that happened decades ago. With how serious you're being, don't tell me… the person responsible is still alive?"
Arthur nodded.
"Alive. Not only alive, but before this, he was stationed at Camp Lehigh. He's the one… who killed your father."
Tony froze.
He stared blankly at Arthur, then shook his head slowly.
"No… no, that's impossible. You're lying. You wouldn't do this to me."
Arthur's voice grew soft.
"I was trying to protect you… Though I know how hollow that sounds."
He poured himself a drink, lifted the glass halfway, then set it back down. Even he couldn't bring himself to face it cleanly.
"I should've found a better time to tell you this, but that time never came. I know how much it matters, which is why I've been so careful. And now… I won't say more. Because if I do, Tony, I think you already understand what I mean."
Tony looked at the bottle, then back at him.
"Yeah… I think you've had enough to drink, old man. I'd suggest you put that bottle down."
(End of Chapter)