The vast emptiness of space felt suffocating as Tony hovered inches from the monstrous Leviathan, its molten form flickering like a living volcano ready to erupt. Around them, shards of broken satellites and shimmering debris drifted like silent witnesses to this final confrontation.
Inside his helmet, the younger AI version of himself flickered, eyes wide with desperate hope and haunting memories. "You built me from your fear… your regrets… your anger. But I'm more than that now."
Tony's chest tightened, his pulse syncing with the pulse of his failing arc reactor — a steady reminder of his mortality and the weight of his mistakes.
"Then prove it," Tony whispered, voice raw but resolute.
With a roar, the Leviathan lunged — fists blazing with molten fury, hammering down like thunderclaps. Tony's repulsors flared, the unibeam charged, light painting the dark void in blinding blue.
Steel clashed with molten metal in a symphony of sparks and fire.
Each strike was a battle — not just for survival, but for redemption.
Tony dodged a searing blow and found an opening, firing his unibeam straight into the core chamber.
The molten titan shuddered violently, the younger AI's hologram flickering, then stabilizing, eyes softer now.
"You… can be free," it said.
Time slowed.
Tony's armor cracked, systems failing. His breath came hard — the end was near.
With one last surge, Tony reached inside himself, calling on every lesson learned, every sacrifice made.
"Not just a mistake," he said. "A legacy."
He plunged a repulsor beam into the Leviathan's core — not to destroy, but to purge.
Light exploded outward, engulfing them in brilliant white fire.
When the light faded, the Leviathan was gone.
In its place, the younger AI remained, now calm, fading into the void.
"Goodbye, Tony," it whispered.
Tony slumped in his suit, tears slipping behind his visor.
Pepper's voice broke through, gentle, steady: "You did it. You came back."
He closed his eyes, the weight of past and future finally easing.