"And that Hadoken Burger of yours! Its molecular structure is a work of God! Hand over the recipe! Stark Industries will pay one billion dollars for exclusive rights!"
Looking at this science fanatic before him, practically foaming at the mouth, Cloud felt his head starting to ache.
Trying to explain "qi," "laws," and "dimensions"—these mystical concepts—to a pure scientist was harder than getting Iori Yagami to perform a happy dance routine.
"Ugh, fine." Cloud sighed. "Looks like you won't give up until you see it for yourself."
"Follow me."
With that, he grabbed Tony's shoulder, giving him no time to react.
"Spatial Transfer!"
The next second, both of them vanished.
When Tony opened his eyes again, he found himself in a space that defied description.
The sky here was a burning nebula.
The ground was lava composed of countless runes.
And in the center of this space stood a forge so impossibly massive it seemed built from the wreckage of countless universes!
Within that forge burned sacred flames that could seemingly incinerate all things.
From time to time, familiar yet strange objects could be seen being thrown into the furnace.
A broken demonic sword radiating evil energy...
A damaged combat suit brimming with technological sophistication...
Even floating soul fragments that sparkled like stars!
These things were being broken down, reconstituted, and refined in the golden flames... ultimately transformed into the purest "Source Points," merging into the forge itself.
"Welcome," Cloud's voice echoed through this space, carrying the majesty of a creator god, "to my workshop—the Dimensional Furnace."
"What... where is this? Holographic projection? Or some kind of... neural-linked virtual reality?" Tony's brain raced, desperately trying to understand everything before him through science.
"Neither." Cloud shook his head. "This is my inner world. The source of all my power."
He pointed at the massive forge.
"You wanted to know how I make my hamburgers? Well, there you go."
"I throw in the concept of beef, the law of flame, add a dash of the rule of deliciousness, and voilà—a hamburger is born."
"You wanted to know my energy source? See those? The worlds I've consumed, the villains, the divine artifacts—they're all refined here into the purest energy for my use."
He then pointed to what looked like mountain ranges of "waste material" piled beside the forge, glowing with various colors.
"You're interested in my technology? That pile over there is just some trinkets I recycled from an organization called NESTS. Genetic modification, cloning technology, spatial transmission tech... to me, it's all just obsolete garbage I can toss aside whenever."
Tony Stark was completely petrified.
He stared at that forge refining "concepts" and "laws."
He stared at the demonic swords and divine artifacts—powerful enough to destroy worlds—being used as "fuel."
He stared at that pile of "garbage," any single piece of which could reshape the global balance of power.
His brain—the one he'd always believed to be Earth's greatest—completely crashed.
He finally understood.
The science he prided himself on, decades ahead of the world, might truly be less than a caveman's stone axe in this man's eyes.
Cloud was using a higher-dimensional science, playing a game Tony could never comprehend.
"Now..." Cloud's voice sounded like final judgment in his ears.
"Do you still want... my blood sample?"
...
New York's night had never been so oppressive.
Ever since Loki's threat-laden "the army is coming" had spread through S.H.I.E.L.D.'s channels across the entire command system, an invisible cloud had hung over this city that never sleeps.
The air was thick with the tension of an approaching storm.
Stark Tower—once filled with parties and noise—now blazed with lights yet was terrifyingly quiet.
The members of the Avengers had gathered together. But no one spoke.
Steve was polishing his star shield over and over, expression grave, as if remembering comrades who had fallen in battle seventy years ago.
Tony Stark had locked himself in his workshop, frantically upgrading his Mark VII armor. Parameters and warnings cascaded across his holographic screens like a waterfall.
For the first time, he felt uncertain about his technology.
Thor stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing toward Asgard, Mjolnir crackling with electricity in his hand due to his restless emotions.
He worried for his homeland, yet also ached for his brother, about to bring catastrophe to Earth.
Dr. Banner had put on headphones, listening to soothing classical music, trying to calm his increasingly difficult-to-suppress heartbeat.
He knew that tomorrow, the "big guy" inside him would inevitably be released.
Natasha moved like an elegant, vigilant black cat, checking all her equipment—Widow's Bite, pistols, tactical knives... Every movement was precise and deadly, but those confident green eyes now revealed a rare hint of uncertainty about the unknown.
Wanda sat quietly in a corner, a scarlet butterfly she'd created herself hovering in her palm, glowing softly.
She watched the butterfly, but her eyes kept drifting toward Cloud's room.
That man wasn't there.
On this night when all heroes stood ready for battle, the one they considered their strongest trump card—and their most unpredictable variable—had vanished.
"JARVIS, have you tracked Cloud's location?" Tony's voice came from the workshop, carrying a hint of irritation.
...
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