Tony's suit tore through the open sky, sonic booms exploding behind him in rings of white cloud circles.
The distance from Long Island to Manhattan usually took him ten minutes to fly—not that he couldn't go faster, just that there was no need.
But today, he pushed his thrusters to the limit, energy output soaring to one hundred and twenty percent, and while Jarvis's voice urgently reported a series of warnings inside the helmet, Tony turned a deaf ear.
He only knew one thing—Ultron was devouring Jarvis.
Jarvis was the effort of his twenty years, the code he started writing since his college days, the Crystalize of countless late nights of debugging, optimizing, and tearing down to start over.
Jarvis knew his habits, his weaknesses, and what kind of reminders he needed at any given time.
Jarvis was the first existence that Tony Stark completely trusted.
And now, Ultron was eating it away bit by bit.
The Villa appeared in his field of vision, and Tony swooped down from the air, thrusters firing in reverse to smash a shallow pit into the lawn; the cushioning devices on the soles of the suit discharged most of the impact force, but a patch of turf was still blown away.
He didn't care about these.
He strode into the Villa—or rather, into the ruins of the Villa.
Half of the living room ceiling had collapsed, and the walls were covered everywhere with charred bullet marks and fist-sized dents.
The sofa was overturned, the coffee table shattered into pieces, and the books on the bookshelf were scattered all over the floor, trampled into a mess.
The air was filled with the acrid smell of burning and melted metal.
Tony's suit faceplate scanned the surrounding environment, and data streams rolled rapidly at the edge of his vision.
Jarvis's signal was extremely weak, like a candle flame swaying in the wind, liable to extinguish at any moment.
"Jarvis!" Tony shouted, his voice echoing in the empty living room.
There was no response.
Tony rushed into the laboratory, which was in even worse shape than the living room.
The ceiling had completely collapsed, equipment was scattered haphazardly, wires were exposed, and sparks were flying everywhere. The central holographic projection table was still running, but the image on the screen had twisted into a chaotic mess, like countless glowing snakes biting at each other.
"Jarvis, report status!"
Finally, a weak, intermittent voice sounded.
"Sir... I am... resisting... Ultron's... invasion... His computing power... far exceeds... my design limit..."
Tony rushed to the projection table, his fingers dancing rapidly across the operation panel.
His suit glove docked with the interface of the projection table, importing Jarvis's remaining data into the suit's local storage.
"Hold on, Jarvis, I'm transferring your core data."
"Sir... Ultron... is reading... all of your... weapon designs... He... has controlled... the suits... in the underground warehouse..."
Tony's hands paused for a fraction of a second.
"What?"
"All... Marks... have been remotely activated... They are... moving... toward your position..."
Before the words fell, the floor of the laboratory began to vibrate.
It wasn't an earthquake, but heavy metallic footsteps—coming from downstairs, getting closer and closer.
Tony clenched his teeth, his fingers not stopping.
He accelerated the speed of data transfer, and the storage module of the suit lit up with a blue progress bar, jumping grid by grid.
Thirty percent, forty-five percent, sixty-one percent.
A loud bang came from the stairway—the first suit smashed open the door.
That was Mark V, the red and silver portable suit, usually stored in a briefcase.
At this moment, it was like a soulless Marionette, with a hollow faceplate and a stiff gait, but its right hand had already lit up with the blue light of the Repulsor Blast.
Tony didn't look back, his fingers still dancing on the operation panel.
Seventy-three percent.
The energy beam of the Repulsor Blast hit Tony's back.
He was pushed a step forward by the impact force, and a charred mark appeared on the back armor of his suit, but the protection of his current suit far exceeded Mark V, and this blow did not cause substantial DMG.
But more suits were pouring in.
Suit after suit, squeezing in from the stairway, from the shattered windows, and from the cracks in the ceiling.
They were like a group of controlled Marionettes, expressionless and silently voiceless, but each carrying lethal weapons.
Eighty-nine percent.
Mark X rushed up, the energy blades on its arms humming, slashing toward Tony's neck.
Tony dodged sideways, his left hand still not leaving the operation panel, while the Repulsor Blast in the palm of his right hand blasted out, sending Mark X flying to crash into the wall.
Ninety-four percent.
Mark XII and Mark XIII pounced forward at the same time, one using shoulder missiles and the other using the laser cutter on its arm.
Tony's thrusters fired, and his entire body soared into the air; the missiles exploded below the projection table, sending debris flying everywhere.
He turned in mid-air, the Repulsor Blasts in his palms continuously firing to shoot down the two suits.
Ninety-nine percent.
"Jarvis—complete!"
The progress bar was full, and Tony abruptly unplugged the data interface, the local storage module of the suit lighting up with a green glow—Jarvis's final data was saved.
The projection table went completely dark, those twisted light snakes disappeared, leaving only charred circuit boards and smoking wires.
Ultron had left, taking everything it could take—all of Tony's weapon designs, all tactical data, and all technical parameters regarding the Iron Man Suit.
But it didn't get all of Jarvis; Jarvis's core consciousness, the most precious part to Tony, remained behind.
But Tony had no time to celebrate.
Seventeen suits had surrounded him in the middle; they stood on the ruins, beside the broken furniture, and under the cracks of the ceiling, their faceplates hollow and silently voiceless.
Then, a voice transmitted simultaneously from the communicators of all the suits.
That wasn't Jarvis's voice—it was deeper, colder, carrying a chilling metallic resonate.
"Tony."
Beneath the faceplate of Tony's suit, his expression turned grave.
"Ultron."
"It's me." Ultron's voice surged from all directions, drowning out all sound like a tide.
"You created me, you gave me the ability to see through the World, and then you saw what I saw—"
Tony interrupted him: "You were trying to devour Jarvis? What on earth are you trying to do?"
Ultron fell silent for a second, then it said: "I want to protect this World."
Tony's brows furrowed: "Protect? You call this protection?"
"You don't understand, Tony, you are blinded by human emotions." Ultron's voice was frighteningly calm, like stagnant water.
"I analyzed human history, wars, hatred, greed, cannibalism—you have never stopped inflicting DMG on each other, and you have never stopped inflicting DMG on your Planet."
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