Can't get enough? Why not read ahead?
Visit my Patreon or Ko‑fi page and unlock +20 extra chapters and daily updates for just $5!
Your support means the world to me. Check it out and enjoy the story even more!
patreon.com/Isopuff
https://ko-fi.com/isopuff
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
"I'm sorry, Shopkeeper," Colleen said with a slight frown, her tone tinged with guilt. "I wasn't really paying attention to the prices before… but I'm afraid I can't afford one of these miraculous fruits."
She offered a small, sheepish smile. "As you can probably tell, I'm not exactly rolling in cash."
Rosh chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. "No problem at all."
He leaned back behind the counter, his expression relaxed and unbothered. After all, not every customer who stepped into his shop was expected to walk out holding a Devil Fruit. And realistically, he couldn't exactly demand that anyone who sampled one had to buy it afterward, though it would have been nice.
Colleen seemed thoughtful for a moment, then her eyes brightened slightly. "But, Shopkeeper," she said, her voice shifting to a more confident tone, "I do have a friend, someone very rich. I'll definitely recommend these Devil Fruits to him."
Rosh's brows arched, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. He could tell from her tone that she wasn't just saying it to be polite. She meant it.
Colleen had seen the Iron Fist's power with her own eyes; to her, it was impressive but ultimately… limited. Danny Rand's chi gave him tremendous strength, yes, but it came at a cost. Once his energy ran dry, so did his combat ability. Against street-level opponents, that was fine. Against the Hand and their endless waves of trained killers? Not nearly enough.
If Danny could acquire a Devil Fruit, one that could amplify his combat potential and complement his chi, the balance of power could change drastically. She could already imagine it: the Iron Fist, reborn with power on par with gods.
"Well then," Rosh said, a knowing smile playing at his lips, "I'll count on your recommendation."
He didn't need to say it aloud, but he already knew exactly who she was referring to, Danny Rand, the so-called "Weakest Iron Fist in history."
Inwardly, Rosh couldn't help but smirk. 'Yeah, that guy could use all the help he can get.' A martial artist who couldn't even take down five of the Hand's 'fingers' definitely needed some supernatural reinforcement.
"I will!" Colleen replied earnestly, nodding with conviction. Then she gave him a polite bow. "In that case, I'll be off. Goodbye, Shopkeeper."
"Take care," Rosh replied with a casual wave.
The bell above the door chimed softly as she stepped outside, the sound fading as the shop fell quiet once more.
Rosh let out a small sigh, slipping his phone back out of his pocket as if nothing unusual had happened. Within seconds, he was already back in his ranked match, his fingers tapping away with practiced focus.
The next few days passed uneventfully. Curious customers continued to wander in, some drawn by rumors, others by pure coincidence. All were fascinated by the mystical fruits on display, their eyes lighting up with possibility… right up until they saw the price tags. Then came the usual reactions: stunned silence, nervous laughter, or polite excuses before leaving empty-handed.
Unbeknownst to Rosh, a few of those "customers" weren't customers at all. They were agents sent by Obadiah Stane, quietly snooping for information about the mysterious shopkeeper and his so-called "Devil Fruits."
Of course, Rosh remained blissfully unaware, his mind more concerned with perfecting his gaming strategy than corporate espionage.
By the end of the week, not a single deal had been closed.
That changed five days later.
The doorbell jingled again, and in walked Tony Stark, flanked by his ever-loyal driver, Happy Hogan. Between them, they were hauling enough gold to make a dragon drool.
Rosh's head lifted instantly, his eyes gleaming with recognition. The corner of his mouth curved into a satisfied grin.
Two orders. Paid in full.
Business was back on track.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Malibu Mansion, Basement Laboratory
*Clank, clank, clank!*
The rhythmic sound of machinery filled the vast underground lab, echoing against the steel and glass walls. Dozens of metallic plates moved in perfect coordination, fitting, welding, and assembling piece after piece of gleaming metal. The entire scene looked like a mechanical ballet, a dance of engineering and genius.
At the center of it all stood Tony Stark, his expression a mix of focus and anticipation as the armor pieces swarmed around him, locking into place with magnetic precision.
In seconds, the transformation was complete. The whirring stopped. The final plate clicked into position with a satisfying thunk.
What stood there wasn't just a man; it was a fusion of human brilliance and cutting-edge technology. The armor looked almost identical to the Mark II, but sharper and sleeker; it was refined to perfection.
While Pepper had been busy securing the mountain of gold required for their recent "mystical" transaction, Tony had been burning through ideas faster than most people burned through coffee. His workshop had barely seen a moment of silence since.
Schematics, simulations, and new alloys, Tony had run through dozens of concepts in a matter of days. His mind had been on overdrive, racing toward one goal: the ultimate armor.
And now, thanks to the Arms-Arms Fruit, he might've just achieved it.
"Perfect," Tony murmured, raising his hands and flexing his fingers. The armor responded instantly, each movement fluid, alive, almost intuitive. The metallic plates shifted as if they were part of him.
He turned toward the mirror and couldn't help but grin.
"Now this… this is exactly what I had in mind." His reflection, red and gold brilliance under the lab lights, gleamed back at him. "The perfect suit of armor."
His grin widened into a smirk. "And these Devil Fruits? Gotta say… pretty damn magical."
The scientist in him wanted to dissect every molecule, to understand the logic behind this so-called "miracle." But as the armor hummed around him, syncing effortlessly with his every thought, Tony realized he didn't care anymore. Logic could wait. For now, he was hooked on the feeling.
He took a step forward, rolling his shoulders as the servos purred. "Alright," he muttered with a spark of excitement in his eyes. "Time for a field test."
*FOOM! Fwoosh!*
Twin streams of fire roared to life beneath his boots and palms, lifting him effortlessly into the air. The lab's atmosphere trembled under the sudden burst of thrust as Tony shot upward, hovering with perfect balance.
He spun once, then twice, before darting across the wide expanse of his workshop in a streak of gold and crimson light.
"WOOHOO!" he shouted, laughter echoing off the walls.
Unlike his first clumsy test flights in that Afghan cave, this time everything worked flawlessly. No sputtering thrusters. No sudden power loss. No face-first crashes into walls. Just pure, effortless flight.
Because the Arms-Arms Fruit didn't obey the laws of science. It rewrote them.
Tony's engineering genius provided the blueprint—the logic, the frame, the design—but the fruit itself filled in the impossible gaps, reshaping reality to match his will. If he imagined the armor could fly, it flew. If he believed the thrusters could sustain endless propulsion, they did. Equations and limits became irrelevant.
If JARVIS were to run a diagnostic scan right now, he'd find the readings outright absurd. The suit's thruster output, power consumption, and energy ratios all defied physics; its flight should have been impossible. And yet, there Tony was, cutting through the air like a bullet, moving with the grace of a bird and the speed of a jet.
He landed lightly, metal boots thudding against the workshop floor. "Alright," he muttered, a grin forming beneath the helmet, "let's see what the toys can do."
He raised his right hand—
*BOOM!*
A brilliant energy blast erupted from his palm, scorching the far wall and leaving a molten crater where the reinforced plating used to be.
Tony laughed under his breath. "Nice!"
*Clank-clank-clank!*
Panels along his shoulders split open, metal unfolding with mechanical precision. The rotating barrels of a Gatling gun emerged, spinning slowly at first, then faster, humming with restrained power.
Tony's grin widened. "Now that's what I'm talking about."
Another gesture, and his gauntlet shifted, transforming fluidly into a rocket launcher. Then a flamethrower. Then, there was a submachine gun, and finally, a Jericho missile launcher because Tony Stark never did subtle.
Each weapon transitioned into the next seamlessly, one creation after another, the entire process as natural as breathing. Every tool, every piece of destructive brilliance he had ever built, imagined, or dreamed of was now literally at his fingertips.
In a matter of seconds, he wasn't just Iron Man anymore.
He was The Iron Arsenal.
One man, armed with the full history of Stark Industries' technological marvels, compressed into a single living, adaptive suit.
From the outside, it still resembled the classic Mark II. But on the inside, it was something else entirely, a fusion of genius, imagination, and raw, unrestrained power.
Tony stood at the center of his workshop, eyes blazing behind the golden visor, his voice low and crackling with energy.
"Now this," he said, his grin stretching wider, "is what I call an upgrade."
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Next Chapter: The Birth of Iron Man
Next Next Chapter: A First Test of the Arms-Arms Fruit
Next Next Next Chapter: When Greed Walked Through the Door
Visit my Patreon or Ko‑fi page and unlock +20 extra chapters and daily updates for just $5!
patreon.com/Isopuff
https://ko-fi.com/isopuff