Bella's relentless battle inside the mist continued as her strength surged with every demon she defeated. But outside the fog, tension reached its peak.
On the top floor of a ten-story commercial building just outside the blackened zone, a group of superheroes had gathered. They stood in silence, gazing toward the mist-choked horizon, waiting—hoping—for some sign of their comrades within.
They were warriors, protectors. But now? They could only wait.
And that helplessness was suffocating.
Even Fury and Agent Hill—masters of emotional control—couldn't conceal their anxiety. Though their faces remained unreadable, the deep furrows in their brows revealed their unease.
There had been no signal from inside the mist since Bella had chased after Tony Stark into the darkness. After that, the fog thickened and rolled like a living beast. But at the same time, its outward expansion had clearly slowed.
Their delay efforts were working.
From the direction of the town, the group could still hear faint echoes—gunfire, explosions, shrieks. The sounds were distant, barely discernible through the thick mist, but they were there.
Signs of battle.
Hawkeye, perched at the edge of the rooftop with binoculars pressed to his face, suddenly tensed.
"I see something!" he called. "There—above the fog!"
Everyone's heads turned.
A massive golden beam of energy had just torn through the mist, like a sword splitting heaven and earth. In the brief moment the fog parted, Hawkeye caught sight of a familiar figure.
"The Mk armor! Tony's alive!"
Hope flared in the hearts of everyone present.
But the joy didn't last.
The beam clearly hadn't come from Tony—it had come from Bella. They all knew it instinctively. The magnitude, the power, the color… only the Goddess of Judgment could generate something like that.
That meant Tony was in trouble.
The Mk armor had lost connection with the base's sensor network the moment it entered the fog. Since then, S.H.I.E.L.D. had been unable to monitor Tony's life signs.
Fury's jaw clenched. "Damn it, Stark…"
BOOM!
A moment later, the telltale roar of repulsor engines echoed from the mist.
A streak of silver shot through the clouds.
"It's Tony!" someone shouted.
Cheers rippled across the rooftop—until the Mk armor began to stutter mid-air.
The repulsors suddenly shut off.
The armor plummeted.
CRASH!
With a violent crash, the Mk armor slammed into the defensive perimeter just outside the S.H.I.E.L.D. base. The impact rattled the barricades and sent soldiers scrambling.
"Damn it!" Rhodes cursed, already sprinting for the stairs. The others followed, rushing down the building to meet the fallen hero.
Troops stationed at the site quickly secured the armor and transported it by vehicle to the base's medical center.
Inside a sterile, brightly lit room packed with diagnostic equipment, the Mk armor was laid out on a reinforced table. Robotic arms immediately began the careful process of dismantling it.
Dozens of medics in full protective gear swarmed in, scanning and checking Tony's vitals.
Behind a reinforced glass partition, Fury, Hill, and the other heroes stood in silence.
Tension crackled in the air.
"J.A.R.V.I.S.," Rhodes said sharply, "What the hell happened? How's Tony? And where's Bella?"
His voice trembled with a mix of fear and urgency.
The Mk armor was a mess—its chestplate scratched and dented, its limbs scorched, and black corrosion marks etched into its surface like acid burns. Whatever happened inside that fog, it had been hell.
J.A.R.V.I.S. came online.
"Mr. Stark accompanied the Goddess of Judgment 13.5 kilometers into the fog, reaching the outskirts of the town of Seth. Upon arrival, the two were surrounded by an uncountable number of undead and demonic entities. Combat ensued."
The AI's voice remained steady, but the information it relayed was chilling.
"Mr. Stark eliminated approximately 1,300 targets from the air. However, all Holy Light weapons were expended within four minutes. Afterward, the Mk armor converted Ark Reactor energy into light-based pulse waves for defense."
"Due to overwhelming numbers and continuous mental assaults, Mr. Stark lost consciousness. Safety protocols were triggered. I assumed control of the Mk armor and escaped with assistance from the Goddess of Judgment."
Rhodes clenched his fists. "And Bella?"
"I am uncertain of her current status," J.A.R.V.I.S. replied. "However, I recovered combat footage recorded by the armor. Transferring data now."
One of the medics handed over the damaged helmet.
Fury held it carefully. Deep scratches marred the visor. Three jagged gashes slashed across the faceplate—evidence of the chaos inside the fog.
He activated the playback.
A holographic projection flickered to life, and Tony's voice filled the room.
"Wow. Gotta say… Bella looks damn cool riding that bike. Style for days. Classy."
"J.A.R.V.I.S., where are we?"
"Seriously, what is this, some kind of undead rave? I feel like the snack tray."
"Light Missile #1. Give them a party favor."
"Ugh. These whispers are killing me. Mental dampeners need an upgrade…"
"J… J.A.R.V.I.S…"
"Loss of consciousness confirmed. Engaging safety protocol. Assuming control of the Mk armor. Initiating full-thrust emergency retreat."
The room fell silent.
The final image was burned into their minds—Tony, surrounded on all sides by a swirling maelstrom of undead. Black figures clawed at him from every direction. The fog closed in like a living wall.
And at the center of it all was Bella—standing at the crossroads, her guns raised, defiant and alone.
No one spoke.
The sheer volume of monsters on screen was staggering. The footage didn't show everything—but what it did show was enough to chill everyone to the core.
Tony had faced death.
He had run out of weapons. His energy had been depleted. His mind had started to crack. He had been alone. And yet, he had held the line—for as long as humanly possible.
And without Bella, he wouldn't have made it back.
Not even J.A.R.V.I.S. could have saved him without that golden blast that cut through the fog.
"She saved him," Hill murmured, more to herself than anyone.
Rhodes pressed a hand to the glass.
Tony lay on the table, pale, unconscious, but alive. And yet… all Rhodes could see in his mind was that image of the fog. The endless dead. The crushing weight of it.
That was despair.
Not the kind people dramatize in stories—but the real kind.
The kind that silences even the strongest hearts.
The kind where your soul knows there is no way out.
And Tony had stood in the middle of it all, looking death in the eye—and smiled.
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