With Senju Haruto by his side, Tony Stark watched the entire recording to the very end.
When the screen finally went dark, the room fell silent for a long time. Then, slowly, Tony's lips curved into a faint smile—a weary, bitter sort of smile that carried more self-mockery than joy.
"Even after you're gone, you're still trying to teach me something, huh?"
He pushed himself up from the floor, dusting off his hands, though his mind was already spinning with new questions.
"If that recording was kept in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s archives," he asked, "then… did they ever watch it?"
But even as the words left his mouth, Tony shook his head.
Knowing his father's status, and how S.H.I.E.L.D. operated, it wasn't hard to guess.
No matter how well Howard had encrypted it, they would've tried to crack it—probably throwing every ounce of their resources at the problem.
Back in his father's time, that encryption would have been unbreakable.
But decades later? Technology had evolved so fast that the impossible had become trivial.
That was the terrifying thing about progress.
A breakthrough that once shook the world could become obsolete in a few short years.
Especially in electronics—Stark knew that better than anyone.
Howard must have realized the same truth. That's probably why he'd locked the tape away in a simple metal case rather than relying on complex security. Anyone with the right mind could open it.
Still… not everyone had Howard Stark's brilliance.
And with the limited tech of that era, it wasn't surprising that even S.H.I.E.L.D.'s scientists had come up empty-handed.
It was just like his own arc reactor.
The technology was so far ahead of its time that no one else could reproduce it for decades—if ever.
Tony exhaled deeply, eyes firm.
"All right," he said quietly. "Let's get to work."
He carefully removed the tape from the player and tucked it away as though it were made of glass. It was one of the few things his father had left behind.
And for the first time, Tony wasn't sure what to feel.
All his life, he'd believed that Howard hadn't loved him—that his father loved his work more than his family, more than him.
That resentment had shaped him.
It was why he'd grown up rebellious, reckless.
And that rebellion… was why, on the day of his parents' car crash, he hadn't even said goodbye.
That regret had haunted him his entire life.
If he could, he'd trade everything he had—his fortune, his fame, even his technology—just to go back to that day and stop it from happening.
But hearing his father's voice now, hearing him entrust his life's work to him, had ignited something deep within Tony's heart.
"Let's begin, Haruto."
He turned toward Senju Haruto, excitement flashing in his eyes.
This wasn't just about carrying on his father's legacy.
This was about discovery.
About science itself.
They were on the verge of creating an entirely new element—something that shouldn't even exist on Earth.
If the world ever learned of it, it would shake the foundations of modern science.
And if this new element could replace palladium, then… he would live.
Tony couldn't think of a single reason to wait any longer.
"According to my father's clues," he said, pacing as his mind raced, "the structure he found inside the Tesseract is connected to the layout of the Expo."
He began piecing together every detail from the tape, reconstructing the chain of logic in his mind until the full picture came into focus.
"We'll need to go to Stark Tower. There's something there that—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Because Haruto had already raised a hand and traced a lazy circle in the air. The air twisted, ignited, and a glowing portal bloomed open.
A detailed scale model of the Stark Expo floated through it and landed softly in Haruto's palm.
He didn't say a word—just raised an eyebrow as if to ask, "This is what you meant?"
Tony blinked, speechless for a moment before muttering under his breath, "That's… ridiculously convenient."
He accepted the model, half amused, half exasperated.
Ever since learning a bit of magic himself, Tony had been fascinated by the concept of portals.
Unfortunately, creating one required a sling ring—and he was still a novice. His magical theory far outpaced his practical skill.
Even when he was allowed to borrow a sling ring during training, it was always taken back afterward.
Arthur had once told him, "Only a true sorcerer of the Sanctum earns the right to keep their ring forever."
So for now, if Tony wanted to get somewhere fast, it was either in his Iron Man armor—or behind the wheel of a car.
"Fine," Tony said with a resigned sigh, shaking his head. He set the matter aside and focused on the task before them.
Taking the Expo model, he instructed JARVIS to scan it and project it at full scale.
As Haruto expected, Tony immediately began stripping away unnecessary parts, simplifying the structure piece by piece.
And as the holographic map shifted, the pattern became clear.
The Expo's layout wasn't random—it mirrored an atomic structure.
When Tony finally saw the full design for what it was, he dropped heavily to the floor, completely stunned.
Even though he had believed his father's words, actually seeing a theoretical element that didn't exist on Earth was something else entirely.
It was breathtaking.
From its structure alone, Tony could tell this element held immense energy—far greater than palladium. And more importantly, it wasn't radioactive.
Clean. Efficient. Perfect.
It could serve as the new core of his arc reactor.
A surge of emotions rushed through him—relief, excitement, awe—all blending together until he almost laughed out loud.
But this was just the beginning.
"To synthesize this element, we'll need some new equipment," Tony said, scanning the room. "And this place isn't nearly big enough."
He turned to Haruto. "Think you can use a little magic?"
If he relied on his own resources to remodel the lab, it'd take hours. With Haruto's magic? Maybe minutes.
Haruto nodded silently.
He raised his hand again, casting a series of intricate spells. The walls began to shift and reshape. New equipment—paid for in full, of course—was pulled through portals and placed neatly in position.
Even the walls adjusted themselves, disintegrating and reforming to make space. Machines arranged themselves as though they were alive, locking perfectly into place.
Tony watched, wide-eyed, as his lab transformed before him in mere minutes.
When it was done, the workshop gleamed with new life—modern, expanded, and ready.
But now, a different feeling crept into Tony's chest.
Tension.
Because no experiment in the world came with a 100% success rate.
Even with the structure in front of them, there was no guarantee they could actually create the element.
He was about to stake everything—his life—on this one attempt.
And that thought made even Tony Stark's heart race.