Chapter 399: Black Manta Becomes a Lone Wolf
"What is this thing?!"
"Why can't I control my body?!"
"No… I feel like I'm about to explode!"
"…"
BOOM BOOM BOOM…
Amid the panic of the Extremis soldiers, they began turning into human bombs one after another.
A series of deafening explosions lit up the scene, each blast unleashing intense shockwaves of heat and flame.
Under normal circumstances, Tony knew full well how terrifying the Extremis soldiers were. Just the data he collected from Pepper alone had revealed how extraordinary they were.
The capabilities of his armor paled in comparison.
However, while stabilizing the Extremis virus was difficult, driving them into overload was remarkably easy—
—for example, by injecting them again with a concentrated dose of the virus.
Killian watched in horror as all the subordinates he had cultivated were obliterated in an instant. His heart turned ice-cold.
He knew he had lost—completely and utterly. There wasn't even a sliver of hope for a comeback.
After all, he was already on America's most-wanted list.
"I'll admit, I really admired your genius. But your biggest mistake was harming my family." Tony's voice was calm and disdainful, his stance reeking of smug confidence.
"Admire my ass."
Killian didn't hesitate to curse. "You're the one who toyed with me all those years ago!"
"…"
But Tony looked completely baffled. He honestly couldn't even remember who the guy was.
"I remember!" Allen raised both hands, jumping in with a grin. "Killian tried to talk business with you, but you were too busy chasing skirts. You left him waiting on the rooftop all night while you finished a hookup. I think it was with some reporter lady."
Tony's face shifted with awkward realization. He leaned over and muttered, "There are kids here. Maybe don't bring up the past."
The truth was, he still couldn't quite recall. He'd slept with at least thirty different female reporters. He never bothered to remember any of their names.
Pepper's eyes were dark with displeasure. She picked up Morgan and walked away a bit.
Back then, she was just his secretary and had no say in his private life. But now, as his wife, hearing about all that made her understandably upset.
After all, who could stomach hearing about their partner's past filled with meaningless flings?
"Shameless. You've got the guts to do it, but not to admit it," Allen scoffed and shot Killian a look. "Doctor, I fully support you beating him to death."
Clearly, Killian had no interest in engaging with a lunatic. He stared directly at Tony and asked, "You really don't remember?"
"…"
Tony stood in a daze, trying to recall, digging deep into his memory.
Nothing. A complete blank.
"Ten years ago. The Advanced Technology Conference in Switzerland," Killian said grimly.
To be fair, he had once idolized Tony—an accomplished scientist at such a young age, showered with accolades that most researchers couldn't earn in a lifetime.
Which made the betrayal even more bitter. That night of humiliation had twisted admiration into hatred, setting Killian down a dark path.
"Oh… you're that cripple."
Suddenly, it clicked for Tony. He finally remembered.
Back then, Killian had long, unkempt hair and hobbled around with a cane. He looked like a down-and-out vagrant, and Tony hadn't even wanted to acknowledge him.
Hearing that, Killian felt completely crushed.
So this was what he amounted to in Tony's mind—utterly worthless.
But Killian no longer had the strength or courage to fight back. He turned abruptly and sprinted toward the ocean.
He wanted to disappear beneath the waves, to escape pursuit. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a sliver of hope.
If he could survive, he might rise again.
He leaped.
Just as he was about to dive into the sea, he felt a sharp sting on his backside.
Damn!
By the time he realized what was happening, it was too late.
Off in the distance, Tony stood on the beach, right hand raised, having fired one last shot of concentrated Extremis virus.
BOOM!
An explosion erupted, sending a towering column of seawater into the sky.
"No fishing with explosives!" Allen barked from the shore, full of righteous indignation and completely nonsensical.
With the grudge finally settled, Tony let out a deep breath of relief and returned to his wife and daughter, basking in the warmth of their reunion.
"Hey! We're still in the middle of a war here! Could you two quit flaunting your love already?" Allen shouted jealously.
But the Stark family ignored him.
At that point, only Killmonger and Black Manta remained unresolved—locked in a fierce and evenly matched duel.
Namor's group of three were still besieging David. But as the battle dragged on, something felt increasingly off.
In David's eyes, the green light was growing stronger. His expression twisted into something feral and bloodthirsty, forcing the trio to exercise extreme caution.
Slash…
The dark trident carved a line across Orm's chest, trailing a sinister green glow.
"My wound… it's rotting…"
Orm stared in horror as the injury rapidly worsened. The flesh around the cut turned black and necrotic, and the green light clung to it like a curse, festering and relentless.
Then, a wave of refreshing light swept over him.
Allen had finally intervened. A cleansing beam dissolved the corruption, followed by healing light that sealed the wound.
However, he refrained from interfering in the fight between T'Challa and Erik.
The throne duel was sacred. If either side received outside help, they'd automatically forfeit.
The royal guards would never acknowledge T'Challa's legitimacy if that happened.
Fortunately, the Heart-Shaped Herb serum was quietly taking effect.
What had been an overwhelming advantage for Erik was now shifting into an even match—and T'Challa was starting to gain the upper hand.
"You didn't take the Super Soldier Serum?"
After all this fighting, Erik could tell something was off—T'Challa had definitely used some kind of enhancer.
"I've never needed the Super Soldier Serum," T'Challa replied vaguely, avoiding a direct answer.
"I beat you once. I can do it again."
There was a note of desperation in Erik's voice, clearly rattled.
Desperation leads to mistakes. Mistakes create openings.
T'Challa, meanwhile, grew ever more composed, seamlessly weaving between attack and defense.
With one fluid move, the outcome was sealed.
He pinned Erik to the ground, locking his arm tightly around his opponent's neck.
"It's over. Surrender, and I won't kill you."
From beginning to end, T'Challa had never wanted to spill his cousin's blood.
"Never. Only one of us walks away from this."
Erik struggled fiercely, but trapped in a chokehold, he couldn't land a single blow.
"Why are they doing that out in the open?" Allen suddenly popped up beside the royal guards with a smirk. "I knew T'Challa had a thing for this kind of stuff. You guys better watch your backs. If you can't resist, just go with it. Slap on some ointment afterward, and you'll still be a man."
"…"
T'Challa and Erik both stared at him in stunned silence.
Was this guy seriously trying to joke now?
They were locked in a deadly battle, and here he was cracking jokes?
And come to think of it, Allen really had been slacking the entire fight.
"I'll kill you… unless I die first…" Erik hissed, still writhing in defiance.
Crack!
His resistance ceased.
T'Challa had snapped his neck, bringing an end to the royal family's bitter feud.
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