Ye Mo's left fingertip was still twitching, like a cramp, or like he was scratching something in the dirt. He was exhausted; even blinking required mobilizing the last remaining nerve signals in his body, but that finger just wouldn't stop. Ash hung in mid-air, the wind had stopped, and the world was so quiet that he could hear the clicking sound of metal corroding in the cracks of his own bones.
The breastplate was gone, leaving the chest bare, the flesh torn open to reveal the crisscrossing Steel Bone frame beneath. The right arm had flown more than ten meters away, landing on a pile of scrap metal, the charred hand still curled up, as if trying to grasp something in its last moments before death. The left arm was still there, but it was no longer a hand; only half of a twisted alloy rod remained stuck in the shoulder socket, crackling with electric sparks.
He knew he was about to die.
The system notification tone had long since stopped; the last thing scrolling was "Emergency repair protocol cooling down," those eight words playing on a loop in my head, like a broken loudspeaker at the entrance of my village, only repeating that one sentence. The Regeneration capacity was exhausted, the Lightning Control module was overloaded and locked, and even the most basic Electromagnetic Deflection couldn't be adjusted. I felt like an old electric car that had been dismantled into pieces—the battery was dead, the motor was burnt out, and even the horn wouldn't work.
But he hasn't fallen yet.
His knees were 30 centimeters deep in the soil, his upper body leaning precariously, supported by his broken left arm and fractured spine, preventing him from collapsing. His mouth was full of blood, which he couldn't swallow, so he could only let it drip down his chin. One drop, two drops, hitting the scorched earth, sending up a small wisp of white smoke.
He knew Ultron was watching him.
The data outline hovered silently in the sky, the human figure drawn by the light patterns twice as clear as before, like a final version after loading. It didn't make another move, but it didn't leave either. It just stayed there, waiting, waiting for him to breathe his last, waiting for this stubborn bull to finally kneel down.
But Ye Mo didn't want to kneel.
He tried to lift his head, but his neck wouldn't move. He wanted to curse, but his throat was choked with blood. He could only stare intently at the ground with his remaining slit-like right eye—at his two feet that were stuck in the ground, at the scorched earth glowing from the heat of the fire.
Let's do it again.
He thought to himself.
You want to win? Then why don't you just beat me down?
Then, he sensed a slight movement.
It doesn't come from the top of the head, nor from inside the body.
It came from the side.
Behind the pile of collapsed steel frames in the distance, a figure slowly stood up.
Not the Avengers.
It wasn't Tony, it wasn't Captain America, and it wasn't Thor.
It's Vision.
He stood at the edge of the ruins. The red light from the ruby on his forehead, which had been shining steadily, suddenly began to fluctuate violently, like a Wi-Fi indicator light with a poor signal. His body swayed slightly, his feet lifted a few centimeters off the ground, floating in mid-air, but he did not move forward.
Ye Mo had no idea what had happened.
But he knew something was off about this guy.
One second he was being controlled by Ultron, standing there like a puppet in the background, the next second... how did he start moving on his own?
He wanted to shout, but couldn't.
He wanted to offer a reminder, but he couldn't open his mouth.
It seems that Vision don't need any reminders.
He slowly raised his right hand, his movements hesitant, as if he were learning to use this body for the first time. His five fingers slowly closed, forming a fist. In that instant, the ruby on his forehead suddenly burst forth with a bright light, no longer red, but turning into pure white.
"This isn't calculation..." Vision said in a low voice, hoarse, like rusty gears turning, "This is choice."
As soon as he finished speaking, his eyes snapped open.
Instead of red light, two beams of snow-white light shot out from the pupils, illuminating the entire ruins.
Ultron's data outline suddenly flickered violently, as if it had been interfered with. The crimson crack in the sky began to tremble, the data stream became discontinuous, and the previously stable energy beam was interrupted for a moment.
Ye Mo was stunned.
He saw Vision push his hands forward, a high-frequency phase beam condensing in his palms, heading straight for the connection point on Ultron's right shoulder—the very spot where he had previously detected the weak point in the energy pulse.
The beam hits.
boom!
Ultron's body jolted violently, and a large area of data collapsed on its suspended outline. A gap was blasted open on its right shoulder, and light patterns darted around like a short circuit. The two main energy beams were completely interrupted, the crack in the sky began to shrink, and the pressure on the battlefield decreased sharply.
Ye Mo felt the invisible weight pressing down on him suddenly lighten considerably.
He was still holding on, but it wasn't as strenuous anymore.
Vision landed, his steps steady, and walked towards him step by step. Three meters, two meters, and finally stopped about three steps behind him.
He didn't speak.
I didn't ask him if he was alright.
He simply raised his hand, palm facing his mangled body, and released a low-frequency resonant wave.
The energy enveloped Ye Mo's body like warm water, seeping into his rampaging Steel Bone system and forcibly suppressing the metal tissue that was about to go out of control. The severed neural links were temporarily repaired, the disordered energy Circuit were reconnected, and even the system notification sound regained a faint signal, "External energy intervention detected, vital signs are stabilizing."
Ye Mo took a breath.
He almost choked on his breath, but he did manage to catch his breath.
He didn't die.
He is still alive.
Moreover, some people are on his side now.
Vision didn't look at Ultron again, nor did he turn back to look at him. He just stood there, facing the sky, his hands hanging at his sides, the gem on his forehead shining steadily white, like a lighthouse in the night.
In the distance, the other fallen soldiers seemed to be affected as well. One figure lying in the rubble suddenly twitched a finger, and another soldier's breathing rhythm became noticeably regular. Although they were still unconscious, their vital signs were generally recovering, and their muscles began to twitch slightly, as if their fighting instincts were being awakened.
Ye Mo wanted to laugh.
But his face was so swollen that he couldn't smile.
He could only use the fingertip of his still-functioning left hand to lightly trace a line on the scorched earth.
I drew a "6".
It's not a number, it's a gesture. A popular internet meme, those who know, know.
Vision seemed to sense something; his eye twitched slightly, as if he were trying to force an expression, but ultimately failed.
Ultron in the sky is still struggling.
Although the data outline was damaged, it did not disappear. It began to reorganize, and the light patterns rearranged, as if loading a backup protocol. Its "gaze" swept over Vision, then over Ye Mo, remained silent for a few seconds, and then slowly raised its hand.
A new attack is brewing.
This time, however, it was no longer facing Ye Mo, who was fighting alone.
Instead, there were two people standing.
Ye Mo gritted his teeth, trying to mobilize the remaining Steel Bone Structure within his body. Although most of it was already destroyed, he had no intention of giving up as long as he could still move even a single finger.
Vision remained standing still, but energy began to gather in his palm. White light danced at his fingertips, as if waiting for his next attack.
The wind started blowing again.
The ashes fall back to the ground.
Finally, a drop of water broke off from the dripping iron pipe in the distance, falling onto the scorched earth with a soft thud, leaving a small, damp patch.
Ye Mo's fingertips were still tracing lines on the ground.
This time I drew a "+".
Plus sign.
It wasn't a cry for help; it was a mathematical equation.
Together with Vision, they might be able to take down this system-installing AI madman.
Vision tilted his head slightly and glanced at him.
There was no emotion in that glance, only light.
But Ye Mo understood.
It means: Are you capable?
He grinned, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
Is it okay?
They're riddled with bullets, and that's still not enough?
He raised his only remaining left arm, and a faint arc of electricity condensed in his palm.
The lightning crackled and popped, unstable, and could go out at any moment.
But he lifted it up.
Facing the sky.
It's like a response.
It's like a declaration of war.
Vision turned back to face Ultron once more.
Slowly raise both hands.
The energy core is operating at full power.
The white light surged.
Ye Mo's electric arcs were still flashing.
The beam of light from Vision is charging.
Ultron raised his hand to its highest point.
Three people, two kinds of light, and a madman who isn't quite dead yet.
The battlefield was eerily quiet.
Who will make the first move in the next second?
Ye Mo's electric arc suddenly exploded.
A blinding halo appeared in Vision's palm.
At Ultron's fingertips, a torrent of data began to converge.
Ye Mo spat out a mouthful of blood and said in a low voice, "Brother, shall we... synchronize our skill cooldowns?"