"Get up. Again."
White Skull said to Blonsky.
Blonsky reached out to cover his wound, stopping the blood that kept flowing out.
Obadiah was dumbfounded. He had not expected White Skull, the leader, to be so powerful.
No wonder he had been confident enough to recruit Blonsky.
Thinking back to his arrogant thoughts after acquiring the Iron Monger armor—killing White Skull and becoming Hydra's leader himself—Obadiah could not help feeling fortunate.
Luckily, he had not acted on those thoughts. Otherwise, he would probably have become a pile of scrap metal by now.
He secretly swore that he would never entertain such unrealistic ideas again.
"Come on. I'm just getting started. This doesn't even count as a warm-up."
White Skull's voice rang out again, carrying a hint of mockery and provocation.
He seemed to have seen through Blonsky's struggle and unwillingness, ready to deal him an even crueler blow.
Blonsky struggled to his feet. His wound had already healed, and he could not believe he had lost so quickly. So he launched another attack, charging at White Skull like an enraged beast, heedless of everything else.
Seeing this, White Skull's lips curved into a faint smile.
He did not retreat. Instead, he met Blonsky's attack with a fist of his own.
One large fist and one small fist collided in midair with a deafening boom.
At that moment, it seemed as though even the air had been torn apart by the force, and everything around them fell into brief silence.
Yet when the force dissipated, the result was shocking.
Before White Skull's seemingly ordinary fist, which contained terrifying power, Blonsky's fist proved as fragile as papier-mâché.
His fist was shattered in an instant, bone and flesh separating as it turned to dust.
His entire arm, from palm to forearm, vanished completely.