Close-Combat Iron Man Armor

A Man in Marvel, a System Wage Slave

The plane landed on the helipad of the cliffside mansion. Expecting Stark to come out and greet guests was out of the question—something that would never happen in this lifetime, not even if the President of the United States showed up in person.

"Yinsen, it's good to see you."

"Likewise, Mike."

Yinsen was as courteous as ever, though there was more life in his eyes now. Time was a good medicine for healing inner wounds, but whether they could truly be healed was another matter. "I'm glad I could see you again before leaving the United States..."

"You're leaving?" Mike froze for a moment. He had thought Stark had already persuaded Yinsen, but Yinsen still insisted on leaving. "Isn't it good here?"

"No, it's wonderful here. Stark treats me well, and everyone has been very kind. But..." Yinsen's emotions churned. "But precisely because it is so good, I thought of the town of Gulmira, which is still suffering in misery. My wife and child died in the war. Once, my heart was ashes, and I had no Nen for this world. Now, I think I should do something for my homeland."

"But you can't do anything."

Mike did not think highly of Yinsen's chances. A scholar facing soldiers could not reason his way through it. His knowledge and refinement were so pale before the terrorists' guns.

"Not being able to do something and choosing not to do it are two different things." Light shone in Yinsen's eyes.

"You're a gentleman," Mike said seriously. "And an extraordinary warrior."

"Thank you."

The two arrived at Stark's garage.

"Come take a look at my work of art." Before Stark stood a silver, gleaming suit of Iron Armor. Like a child showing off a toy to other children, he beamed smugly. "Well?"

"It looks awesome."

Though Mike found Stark's smug expression irritating, he would not lie through his teeth. The unpainted steel armor possessed a cold, futuristic beauty. Mike stepped forward and rapped his knuckles against it, producing a hollow clang, clang, clang that sounded incredibly satisfying.

What boy had never dreamed of wearing armor as a child?

"Does it have a name?" Mike asked.

"Of course," Stark replied. "Mark II."

"Why Mark II?"

"Because I designed Mark I in the cave. The conditions were limited, though, and Mark I was too crude, so I never built it. I upgraded straight to Mark II."

"All right, I was just asking." Mike sincerely offered a suggestion. "Calling it Mark is kind of tasteless. How about Nini II instead?"

"Absolutely not!"

Not only did "Nini" sound so effeminate it made his skin crawl, but for some reason, Stark always felt that the name hid a deep malice.

"Your armor, your call." Mike spread his hands regretfully. "But you didn't bring me here just to show off your armor, did you?"

"That was one of the reasons, and it seems to have worked quite well." Stark smiled in a punchable manner. "Besides, I want to ask you to help improve the armor."

"I studied law in college. I don't understand mechanical engineering or computers, so I'm afraid I can't help you."

"I can handle the technical stuff myself." Stark slipped naturally into his usual arrogance. "In this field, if I can't solve it, no one can. So the help I need was limited to things outside this field from the beginning."

"Bragging isn't taxed, is it?" Mike rolled his eyes. "Go on, then. But just so we're clear, I charge a fee."

"Money isn't a problem." Stark sounded like a true tycoon. "Based on the information I've collected, I built a combat program. I wanted someone for practical testing, and I thought of you."

White and golden motes floated out of Stark's body.

System Notification:

[Stark's Commission: Test the Iron Armor's combat capabilities.]

[Commission: 50,000 US dollars]

[Mission Description: An Iron Man skilled in close combat is about to be born, and you deserve a... tiny bit of the credit.]

"Eh? An Iron Man with close-combat capabilities?"

Stark would later develop all kinds of armor, yet none of them would be designed specifically for close combat.

The butterfly effect?

Still, Iron Armor possessed many natural advantages in a fight: a powerful propulsion system, a high-hardness metal shell, a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree holographic view, and artificial intelligence assistance.

Even without specialized development, Iron Armor's Ben itself already had fairly strong close-combat capabilities.

"Fine, I have no problem with that either. This much for the commission." Mike held up five fingers.

"JARVIS, transfer five hundred thousand to Mike's account immediately." Stark did not even blink.

"Uh, wait, it's fifty thousand..."

Mike nearly cried. Sure enough! Poverty had limited my imagination.

Stark said, "Whatever. There's not much difference."

There was not much difference between fifty thousand and five hundred thousand US dollars?

The street punks who would get into shootouts over five hundred US dollars would cry themselves unconscious in the bathroom.

"Fifty thousand means fifty thousand. A real man keeps his word!" Mike declared righteously.

That was because if the commission was too low, or could not be recovered, Mike would have to make up the difference himself. If it was too high, the system would deduct the excess. This showed that the system's Ben was essentially a heartless capitalist, while Mike was merely a handsome wage slave.

"Fine, fine, you're so long-winded." Stark felt that a mere difference of four hundred and fifty thousand US dollars was not worth wasting breath over.

Soul Energy and Destiny Energy flowed into Mike's body.

At that moment, he had 5 Soul Energy and 5 Destiny Energy. All the energy fused together and shone brilliantly.

In the end, a white Destiny Fruit covered in intricate golden patterns appeared in the air.

"This is my first time synthesizing a Destiny Fruit. What will it produce?" Mike felt anticipation for the first time in a long while.

However, for now, he needed to focus on the commission.

For the first time, Mike did not want to rush through it. A little ceremony would be better.

Tony stepped into the Iron Armor.

Mike teased, "Why not design a sensor system so no one even has to enter the armor? Wouldn't remote control be safer?"

Tony's eyes lit up. "That's a good idea. JARVIS, create a file on remote control and gather information."

"Yes, sir."

Now Tony felt that bringing Mike here had been the right decision.

Clack! Clack!

An opening slid open on the Iron Armor's right wrist, and a double-edged longsword sprang out.

"Let's begin," Stark reminded him.

Mike took two steps back and pulled a katana from his spatial storage.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

At first, Stark used Japanese swordsmanship, cycling through one school after another.

Next came sword techniques from the China.

Then came Western fencing.

Facing the attacks of the longsword in its many styles, Mike handled them with ease. He did not even need to use a Possession Card.

"Traditional swordsmanship, saber techniques, or unarmed combat—once any of them reaches the pinnacle, they are ultimately applications of strength, speed, and skill. Their power is ultimately limited by the user."

"The armor's strength is good, but Ben's own weight limits its speed and agility." Mike evaluated, "No matter how powerful it is, there is no point if it can't hit the target. So either select suitable parts from a vast amount of combat techniques and fuse them together, or modify the armor to make it more suited for fighting."

"Heh heh." Stark grinned. "Only children choose between two options. Adults take them all!"