Iron Man's repulsors flared, kicking up a cloud of dust as he landed with a heavy thud that echoed through the desolate battleground. It was the kind of entrance only Stark could make—blunt, loud, and undeniably stylish.
"You guys sure know how to make an entrance," Ivan muttered, digging himself out from under a pile of rubble. His left arm shifted into a clawed tool, helping him scramble to his feet. Glancing over his shoulder, he called, "Where's the bat?"
Stark's voice crackled over the Iron Man armor's speakers. "Not on duty today. You've got me instead," he replied, and without another word, his arm was raised, targeting Ophelia as he fired off two powerful repulsor blasts through the smoky haze left from the missiles.
But a mere flicker was all they struck, as an afterimage darted aside in the nick of time, weaving around the blasts with fluid precision. When the smoke cleared, Ophelia was standing there, composed and unharmed.
"Well, well, I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever show up," she remarked, her tone light but the edge of challenge unmistakable in her smile. "But it's different this time. I'm whole."
Her words hung in the air, a challenge laced with confidence.
Before Stark could respond, a red-gold blur streaked in from behind her, a web of white silk trailing from his hand. Spider-Man, gripping the line with his left hand, swung a truck straight toward Ophelia, aiming to take her by surprise.
But Ophelia barely reacted, only lifting a hand. Air currents coalesced instantly, forming a dense vortex around her as the truck collided. With a sickening crunch, the vehicle's metal buckled under the pressure, its frame twisting in on itself as if caught in an invisible vise. The tires blew out with a deafening pop, fragments spinning off into the whirlwind as the truck was tossed aside.
"Whoa!" Spider-Man jerked his web, pulling himself upwards just in time to avoid the truck's trajectory. Flipping gracefully, he landed on the side of a building, crouched horizontally as he clung to the vertical surface.
"She's got eyes in the back of her head," he muttered, irritation seeping into his voice. "That's new."
Ophelia's smile widened. "As I said, I'm not what I used to be."
But before she could say another word, Iron Man's shoulder-mounted guns activated, unleashing a swarm of mini-missiles. They curved and zigzagged towards her, each locked on from a different angle, their paths coordinated in a lethal array.
Yet, another layer of Tis shields shimmered into view, materializing like a wall around her. The missiles detonated one by one, the air filled with fire and shrapnel. But as the smoke cleared, Ophelia's figure stood untouched within the shield's translucent glow.
Stark adjusted his stance, recalculating. A split second later, he fired two more missiles, sending them on an arcing path around her.
But her defenses had no gaps. With a quick gesture, she spun the shield and cyclone together, crafting a flawless barricade that deflected the rockets harmlessly. They exploded around her, fire lighting up the space, but when the blaze died down, she hadn't even flinched.
Spider-Man, unwilling to let the opportunity pass, launched himself into the air and landed behind her, aiming a punch straight at her back. The power behind the strike was unmistakable, his enhanced strength concentrated in a single, decisive blow.
But before his fist could make contact, the air in front of him compressed, dense with Ophelia's energy. The punch rebounded off her barrier, and the force launched him backward. He tumbled through three walls before crashing into an already crumbling building, which promptly caved in on top of him.
"I'm… fine!" Spider-Man's voice called from under the rubble, sounding faint but surprisingly cheerful.
Iron Man didn't have time to respond—he was too busy.
"You're wasting your time," Ophelia said, amusement dancing in her eyes. "My Tis shield is at peak purity. Nothing in this world can break it."
For a moment, it seemed like she was right. Stark's repulsors and even the mini-rockets had barely made a dent. The ancients' Tis shields were formidable on their own, but Ophelia's defenses were on a completely different level, bolstered by her mastery over the wind. Her control over the air softened every impact, dispersing the force like ripples on water.
But Iron Man wasn't out of options. He rocketed upwards, propelling himself over the battlefield as his right hand shifted, revealing a new mechanism. With a low hum, a red-hot laser blade ignited, cutting a sharp, brilliant line as he aimed it directly at her.
"It's useless," Ophelia scoffed, "Your attacks are no match for—"
Her words cut off as the laser sliced through her shield, tearing through the protective layer and grazing her left arm. She flinched, recoiling as she activated her wind powers, drifting out of range like a leaf caught in a sudden breeze.
Though the wound was minor, a dark look crossed her face, her eyes narrowing as they locked onto Iron Man. Surprise and something like disbelief flashed across her face.
Impossible. The Tis shield was supposed to be impenetrable—even without her full form, this was supposed to be untouchable. Not even Leila's flames had managed to pierce it.
Yet here was Stark, a mere human, wielding weapons that had somehow broken through her defenses.
For a moment, Ophelia's smug confidence flickered, replaced by a steely wariness.
Before Stark could press the advantage, a blade of compressed air slashed towards him, invisible yet deadly. It cut through the air with a faint hiss, shredding everything in its path. Iron Man braced himself, his armor taking the hit, though he was forced backward by the impact, his systems recalibrating as he struggled to stay upright.
"Laser cutting can penetrate her defenses," Friday reported coolly, "but effective damage will require sustained output."
The laser cutter was one of Iron Man's most potent weapons, channeling the reactor's energy into a single, devastating beam. But it came at a cost: prolonged use drained the arc reactor, meaning he had only limited shots.
"What about a single-beam pulse?" Charlie muttered, assessing his options.
"Effective," Friday confirmed, "but it requires a charge period and is best suited for static targets. It's risky against an agile enemy with adaptive defenses."
Charlie grumbled, "So what? Maybe we should've brought Wolverine for this one."
"Adamantium claws would indeed breach her defenses," Friday replied, "but in close combat, her abilities would likely overpower a melee approach."
Iron Man continued circling, his repulsors firing in rapid succession as he dodged Ophelia's counters. Below, Spider-Man finally pulled himself out of the ruins and leapt back into the fray, rejoining the battle with renewed determination.
High above, Leila dove from the sky in her phoenix form, coordinating with Iron Man's rockets to hem in Ophelia's escape routes. But Ophelia rose with the winds, effortlessly evading their attacks. Her shield rippled, a Tis barrier absorbing Leila's fire as though it were little more than a candle flame.
The phoenix descended, shifting into a young woman in a dark dress who glared at Iron Man with visible irritation.
"Please tell me you've got something new," she called to Stark. The look on her face was one of frustration, as if to say, There's no way this is all you've got.
"Should we deploy the Iron Legion?" Charlie asked Friday under his breath.
"It may provide suppression," Friday responded, "but most Legion suits aren't built for sustained combat, and their firepower likely won't be enough against her defenses. We need real 'heavy fire' here, sir."
"Fine," Charlie muttered, resigned. He hadn't wanted to play his last card so soon, but it seemed there was no choice.
Taking a deep breath, he pressed the button.
Suddenly, the sky darkened, clouds churning and gathering with ominous speed. A crack of lightning split the heavens as thunder rumbled, announcing the arrival of something far more formidable than anyone on the battlefield had expected.