Malrick stood before the gate and gave it a gentle push. The heavy iron door creaked—and then collapsed completely.
His swift, decisive action left Tony and Yinsen stunned.
Before they could even react, a shout rang out from outside.
"Fire!"
Gunshots erupted like a torrential storm. Bullets rained down, deafening and relentless. The terrorists had clearly sensed something was wrong and had prepared for an ambush.
Under the leader's command, they formed ranks in the corridor outside the cave, ready to unload their magazines in a full-on assault.
But Malrick moved before the first bullet was fired.
With a single glance, he raised a hand, shielding Tony and Yinsen behind him.
In the next instant, a barrage of bullets struck him—only to flatten and fall, harmless, to the ground. Each round was crushed on impact, warped beyond recognition. Not even the one that struck his eye made it past his skin.
Dust and debris filled the cave as bullets slammed into the stone around them. For more than thirty seconds, the cave was under siege. Then the gunfire ceased.
"Gurgle!"
The terrorists shouted in triumph. They were sure no one could have survived that barrage.
Their leader, standing at the bend in the corridor, leaned forward to peer into the dust-filled cave. After a moment, he gestured for scouts to check.
None of them expected to find anyone alive—maybe just pieces of a body, at best.
But then…
Two crimson lights flared within the smoke.
They glowed like burning coals, pulsing with silent menace.
"What's that? Bats?" someone muttered.
No one answered. Because in the next second, the light intensified—and released twin beams of devastating heat.
The red rays swept through the corridor like scythes. Everyone in their path was cut down in an instant, their bodies cleaved cleanly and seared beyond recognition.
No one had time to scream.
Terrorists at the far end of the corridor saw only a flash of red—and the men in front of them were suddenly gone, their bodies falling apart mid-stance.
Silence fell. Minds blank, the survivors froze in place.
Only the bald leader snapped out of it.
"That's Stark's laser weapon!" he gasped.
"He's been building it for months! Damn it, we've been tricked!"
His voice stirred the others from their daze. A few started to think again.
"As long as it's a weapon, it needs someone to use it!" the leader snarled. "Kill whoever's operating it and it's ours!"
He barked the next order: "Everyone fall back! Throw grenades into the cave! Kill Tony Stark!"
Then he added, greed gleaming in his eyes, "We'll take the weapon and sell his body to Obadiah Stane for Dollars!"
The logic made perfect sense to the others.
If Stark's tech was in the cave, all they had to do was kill him.
They pulled back, retrieved grenades, and prepared to throw.
But then…
Footsteps.
Soft, steady, echoing through the corridor—completely calm.
"Hold!" the leader raised his fist. Everyone paused, grenades still in hand, eyes focused on the corner.
Click. Click.
The footsteps drew closer.
The leader sneered. "Stark, do you think you can walk out of here with your weapon? You lied to me! But it doesn't matter—today you die, and your laser weapon becomes mine!"
A voice answered, calm and unbothered.
"Oh? Really? But I'm not Tony."
Confusion spread.
They had all assumed Tony Stark was behind the weapon.
But when the figure turned the corner, they froze.
A tall man. Barefoot. Shirtless. Muscular. Only a pair of worn trousers covered him.
What the hell?
"Who are you? Where's Stark?" the leader growled, eyes narrowing.
Malrick raised an eyebrow. "I am also a Stark."
The leader's lip curled in disbelief. "You're joking... Fire! All of you!"
The terrorists obeyed immediately. Muzzles flared again. Bullets filled the air.
Malrick didn't flinch.
He walked forward casually, allowing the bullets to bounce off him like raindrops. His expression was calm. Focused. Almost bored.
Meanwhile, panic crept into the ranks of the attackers.
Nothing hurt him. Not even a scratch.
Terror overtook them.
One dropped his rifle and bolted.
"Monster!" he screamed.
The leader drew his pistol to shoot the deserter—but it was too late.
Twin beams of heat sliced through the air. The fleeing man fell, lifeless.
The leader turned, sweat beading on his forehead. The red glow in Malrick's eyes wasn't tech. It wasn't a weapon. It was him.
"None of you in the Ten Rings will leave this place alive," Malrick said, his voice low and cold.
Another blast of heat rays swept through the corridor.
In seconds, the entire squad was gone.
Only Malrick remained, standing amidst the bodies.
The leader, with fading strength, whispered his final thought:
"It wasn't… a laser weapon…"
And then he was gone.
Malrick exhaled and shook his head. "I told you. I'm also a Stark."
He stepped out of the cave.
Instantly, three rockets streaked toward him.
"Ten Rings. Loyal to the end," he muttered, raising his right hand.
The explosions engulfed him, but did nothing.
Then came more bullets. More grenades.
Everything they had left.
But when the smoke cleared, Malrick still stood, untouched. Not even a rip in his pants.
Without warning, he vanished—then reappeared behind the entire group of remaining terrorists.
In the blink of an eye, they all dropped. Their necks twisted at impossible angles.
Malrick dusted off his hands and turned back toward the cave.
"Tony, Yinsen," he called. "They're all dealt with. You can come out now."
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