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The Ten Rings thugs were wreaking havoc, their atrocities laid bare for all to see.
Women and children were being dragged away, loaded onto trucks like cattle. Their fates were sealed: they would be sold on the black market, destined to become playthings, forced into the red-light districts, or harvested as living organ donors.
The men?
Some would be forced to fight as expendable cannon fodder, while the rest were executed on the spot.
In this lawless land, life was both precious and worthless.
The ground was littered with rubble and shattered dreams. Every visible wall was pockmarked with bullet holes, and the streets were strewn with corpses, a haunting reminder of the chaos that reigned.
Watching the horrors unfold, Lemu felt the simulated heart in his chest tighten, as though an invisible hand was squeezing it.
A cold, detached killing intent seeped into his thoughts, chilling and unrelenting.
Better to be a dog in times of peace than a human in times of war.
But in this chaos, were there truly any humans left?
No.
In this hell, even dogs lived better than these helpless souls.
From the Mark III, Tony Stark's enraged voice erupted through the comms.
"Fuck!"
And in the next moment, the red-and-gold suit of armor dove from the skies, anger radiating from every movement.
Stark didn't hesitate.
He came down hard, landing with a crushing blow that snapped the neck of the first thug he encountered. Before the others could react, his repulsor cannons fired, sending two more enemies flying with loud, resounding blasts.
The sudden assault sent the Ten Rings lackeys into panic and disarray.
They raised their rifles, spraying bullets at the invincible figure, but it was useless.
The Mark III's armor shrugged off the gunfire, sparks scattering as the bullets ricocheted harmlessly. Not even a single shot could hinder Stark's relentless advance.
Lemu followed closely behind.
The Ghost-1 descended, its sleek form tearing through the air like a blade.
With a sharp click, Lemu unsheathed the dual-edged greatsword mounted on the armor's back.
He dove toward the armed mob below, his blade gleaming menacingly in the sunlight.
Ghost-1 skimmed the ground, slicing through the air with a roaring wind shear.
The thugs opened fire, their bullets pinging off the Ghost-1's reinforced armor like harmless pebbles.
Lemu swung the massive sword with a wide arc, its blade cleaving through the enemy ranks like a scythe through wheat.
Three bodies were sent hurtling through the air, their screams trailing behind them.
In a fluid motion, Lemu propelled Ghost-1 upward, circling around for another deadly dive.
This time, the greatsword came down like a judge's gavel, scattering another pair of enemies like broken dolls.
The maneuver ended with Ghost-1 landing squarely beside a truck, where terrified women and children were crammed inside, their faces pale and tear-streaked.
One of the remaining terrorists stood frozen by the truck, his AKM trembling in his hands as he stared at the blood-soaked suit of armor before him.
Lemu said nothing.
In one swift, calculated motion, he swung the sword.
The blade's edge sliced through the man's shoulder, cutting diagonally across his torso.
The thug didn't even have time to scream.
Blood sprayed from the wound, painting the greatsword in streaks of crimson, droplets spattering onto Ghost-1's sleek armor.
Under the sunlight, the bloodstains looked like blossoming red flowers, grotesque yet eerily beautiful.
Ghost-1 stood amidst the carnage, its presence an unyielding symbol of vengeance and justice.
There was no room for mercy here—only retribution for the innocent lives that had been trampled underfoot.
A small trace of blood smeared across Ghost-1's optical sensors, painting the scene before Lemu in shades of red.
Though sealed inside his vacuum-grade armor, an overwhelming stench of blood seemed to seep into his senses.
Lemu stood, sword in hand, as an immovable shield before the truck.
Two more terrorists charged forward, their intentions clear—to take the hostages and turn them into bargaining chips.
Before they could reach the vehicle, Lemu cut them down, the greatsword slicing effortlessly through flesh and bone.
Their screams were short-lived, their bodies collapsing in bloodied heaps.
No one dared to approach the demonic figure standing before the truck anymore.
Meanwhile, Stark had swept through the rest of the battlefield with precision and fury.
One repulsor blast after another cleared the remaining terrorists.
Among the rubble and chaos, he grabbed a familiar-looking bearded lieutenant, dragging him into the town square.
With a quick, dismissive motion, Stark threw the man at the feet of the gathered villagers.
"He's yours to deal with."
As the villagers turned their gaze to the trembling lieutenant, Stark ascended into the sky with his usual flair, leaving the man to face the justice of the people he had terrorized.
Lemu was about to follow Stark into the air when something unexpected happened.
A small hand reached out toward him, holding a wilted plastic flower.
At the same time, a soft, nervous voice, cracked and dry from fear, spoke in halting Pashto:
"Th-thank you."
Lemu's gaze shifted.
A weary-looking mother stood nearby, clutching two filthy children close to her.
The younger of the two, a short-haired little boy, had managed to wriggle free from his mother's protective grasp.
The boy, trembling but determined, was summoning all his courage to thank the fearsome machine that had saved them.
From behind the blood-streaked demonic mask, Lemu's gaze locked onto the boy.
For a moment, he saw himself in those wide, terrified brown eyes.
The boy's mother, realizing what her son was doing, rushed forward in panic.
She tried to shield the child's eyes, pulling her other child closer to her.
Her expression was a mix of terror and desperation, as if staring at the Angel of Death itself.
Lemu, however, moved with deliberate calm.
The bloody visor of Ghost-1 tilted downward, focusing entirely on the boy.
Slowly, he reached out, his massive armored hand closing gently around the flower.
The electronic voice of Ghost-1 rumbled, low and deep, but unmistakably gentle:
"Thank you. I like it very much."
With that, the flower disappeared into the dimensional storage within the armor's palm.
Lemu then raised his left arm, and a small missile ejected from his forearm launcher.
The mother screamed in terror.
Her instincts kicked in as she threw herself onto her children, shielding them with her frail body.
She pressed herself to the ground, trembling like a leaf, her face buried in the dust.
Her thin frame seemed so fragile, yet her resolve was unyielding—no matter the cost, she would protect her children.
….
+8 chapters on patreon.
Venom x multiverse on patreon.
Cyberpunk x genos on patreon.
In deadpool on patreon.
Cyberpunk x David with System on patreon.
Yoriichi x Akame Ga Kill on patreon.
Naruto(characters) x Fate Holy grail war on patreon.
….
If you want to read 8+ chapters ahead and unpublished fanfics you can check out my patreon or just take a visit.
[P].[A].[T].[R].[E].[O].[N]
http://patreon.com/Kazuma_trash