The Winter Soldier frowned deeply.
He couldn't quite understand what had just happened before his eyes. The man standing in front of him — the armored figure — had somehow transformed, his body pulsing with an unfamiliar energy. But one thing was certain: his opponent's strength had skyrocketed, several levels beyond what he had faced earlier.
There was a crushing aura pressing down on him now — something he had never felt before, not even from his deadliest missions or strongest foes.
"Then now," the armored warrior said coldly, his voice mechanical yet chillingly human beneath the metallic tone. "Feel my anger."
Under the moonlight, his black-blue armor gleamed like frozen Ice — sharp, cold, and merciless. With a single step forward, the ground beneath him cracked slightly, and he advanced toward the Winter Soldier like a walking storm.
Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, wasted no time. His instincts as an assassin took over instantly. Without hesitation, he swung the grenade launcher off his back — a custom-made HYDRA weapon — and aimed it directly at the approaching armored foe.
"Let's see you handle this!" he hissed.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
A thunderous volley of grenades exploded from the launcher, firing in rapid succession. Trails of smoke and flame streaked through the night air as the explosives whistled toward their target from every direction — a deadly rainstorm of fire.
This wasn't just a normal weapon.
It was HYDRA's Sidewinder Grenade Launcher, built for destruction and chaos.
But the armored warrior — Kamen Rider Balkan — didn't even flinch.
No panic. No hesitation.
Instead, he calmly raised one arm.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
With lightning-fast reflexes, Balkan's armor deflected the incoming grenades one after another. Each explosion lit up the night sky, showering debris and sparks in all directions, but the warrior stood unscathed amid the smoke and flames.
For a moment, the entire battlefield was consumed in fire and confusion — a haze of dust and destruction. Then, through the swirling smoke, a figure suddenly leaped high into the air.
Bucky.
The grenades had only been a distraction — a trap to mask his true attack.
As he descended from above, his right hand drew a gleaming dagger from his belt. Even under the dim light, the blade glowed faintly with a strange, hypnotic shimmer — a dagger infused with Vibranium.
The weapon was short, but deadly. Its surface shimmered with intricate patterns, almost serpentine — beautiful and terrifying at once. Though it contained only a small trace of Vibranium, that was enough to make it far stronger than any common metal. The dagger could easily cut through iron and stone. Many of Bucky's past targets — powerful men, traitors, generals — had fallen to this very blade.
And tonight, he planned to use it again — to end this armored freak once and for all.
He roared and plunged downward, dagger aimed at Balkan's chest.
But the warrior didn't dodge. He stood his ground, letting the dagger strike.
CLANG!
A burst of sparks exploded as the Vibranium dagger slammed against Balkan's armor. The sound rang out like a thunderclap — the clash of indestructible metals.
For a second, Bucky thought he had won. Then his arm went numb.
The blade hadn't pierced the armor.
It had completely failed to penetrate the defense.
"What?!" Bucky's eyes widened. "How is that even possible?!"
His strongest strike — one that could slice through concrete walls and armored vehicles — had done nothing. The shockwave traveled up through the dagger into his cybernetic arm, rattling his bones.
Balkan merely scoffed, a cold metallic sound.
His Assault Wolf Armor gleamed under the flickering light.
That armor was unlike anything Bucky had ever encountered. Its durability rivaled forged stone or dense iron. Perhaps if the dagger had been forged entirely from pure Vibranium, it might have pierced through. But this weapon carried only traces of the rare metal — nowhere near enough.
The armored warrior's eyes flared crimson beneath his helmet.
"My turn," he said.
In the next instant, he threw a punch.
It was like being struck by a wrecking ball. The punch connected squarely with Bucky's steel arm — and dented it.
The Winter Soldier was hurled backward like a ragdoll, flying several dozen meters before slamming into the ground. Sparks burst from his arm as he skidded across the pavement, gouging a long scar into the concrete before finally stopping.
He knelt there, breathing heavily, hair matted with dirt, a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. His cybernetic arm trembled under the strain.
That one blow had nearly shattered his insides.
But Bucky Barnes didn't know the meaning of surrender. Even bleeding, he looked up at the enemy with defiant eyes. Slowly, he pressed a small switch embedded into the side of his metal arm.
"Let's finish this," he muttered.
A red current began to surge through his steel limb, crackling with energy. His entire body convulsed from the shock, but he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay upright.
Electric arcs danced along his palm.
His arm began to glow red-hot.
This wasn't an ordinary prosthetic. It was a hybrid of Soviet and HYDRA technology — a masterpiece of black science from the Cold War era.
The arm's hardness was second only to Vibranium itself, and inside it rested a terrifying secret: an energy core capable of releasing destructive electromagnetic pulses — or even self-detonation.
Bucky had never used that function before. It was a last resort — a suicide measure.
But now, facing a monster like this, he saw no other choice.
"Are you finally getting serious?" the armored warrior said, lowering his stance.
"If that's the case... then I won't hold back either."
Balkan's voice echoed through his helmet. His armor began to hum, the circuits along its surface glowing bright orange. He raised his right arm — the Assault Grasp — and pressed a trigger on his belt device.
"AssaultCharge!"
A sharp electronic tone filled the air. Blue and purple light swirled around his limbs as the suit's power core roared to life.
Then another sound followed, deeper, hotter, and far more dangerous.
"Magnetic Storm Blast — Fever!"
A surge of energy pulsed through the battlefield, shaking the air itself.
On the other side, Bucky raised his glowing arm, ready to fire the electromagnetic burst. His voice cracked through the noise — "Go to hell!"
BOOM!
His steel arm detached with a deafening shockwave, flying forward like a missile. Red lightning streamed around it, its inner reactor glowing as it shot toward Balkan. The moment it made contact, it would unleash a violent electromagnetic field, paralyzing his opponent before detonating in a fiery explosion.
But Balkan had already anticipated the move.
He twisted his stance, channeling energy from the Assault Wolf Key into his right leg.
The wolf emblem on his armor ignited — a spectral purple-blue wolf head materialized over his shin, its fangs bared, howling with pure energy.
"Now," he growled.
He kicked forward.
The air erupted with thunder.
The kick collided with the flying steel arm mid-air — the force so immense that the explosion shattered the ground beneath them. A storm of fire and electricity tore through the street, engulfing both combatants in a violent shockwave.
Flames shot skyward as concrete cracked and vehicles flipped from the blast. For a few seconds, everything vanished in a sea of dust and light.
Then, silence.
When the smoke began to fade, a figure slowly emerged from the haze — the armored warrior, Balkan. His armor was scorched but intact, sparks flickering from his chest plate. The purple-blue glow in his visor dimmed, but his stance remained solid.
Across the ruined street lay Bucky, unmoving. His arm was gone — only a smoldering stump of wires and circuits remained. The Vibranium dagger lay beside him, half-buried in the rubble, still glinting faintly.
Balkan stared down at him for a long moment. "You fought well," he said quietly.
"But this is where it ends."
He turned away as the wind blew through the broken street. The electromagnetic storm had subsided, leaving behind the smell of metal, smoke, and burnt ozone. The night returned to silence — save for the distant crackle of dying flames.
Somewhere far away, an unseen observer lowered a pair of binoculars.
On a hidden communication line, a cold voice murmured,
"Vanderbuilt Technologies will want a report. The prototype performed flawlessly."
The observer turned away, vanishing into the shadows.
The battle was over, but the war for the Upgrade Key — and for the future of technology itself — was just beginning.
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