The figure stepped forward, the dim light revealing the intricate details of a dark, regal armor etched with arcane symbols that glimmered ominously. The helmet's faceplate was a terrifying mask — cold, unyielding, and unmistakable.
"Victor Von Doom," Tony whispered, eyes narrowing with a mix of rage and disbelief.
The infamous ruler of Latveria, master of both science and sorcery, stood before him through the cold void, his presence an overwhelming storm of power.
"I have watched your rise and fall, Stark. Your technology is impressive, but flawed. Your weaknesses—your heart—will be your undoing."
Tony clenched his fists inside his suit. "Doom. Why now? Why me?"
Doom's voice was a chilling blend of menace and calculation. "Because the void left by your so-called 'heroism' must be filled. I will forge a new order from the ashes of your failure."
Behind Doom, shadows shifted—figures emerging from the darkness, armors gleaming, eyes glowing red. A legion loyal to the conqueror, ready to execute his will.
Tony's HUD flared warnings; the Stark station's defenses scrambled to respond.
But this was no ordinary assault—it was a declaration of war.
Tony took a deep breath, steeling himself. "You want a war, Doom? You'll get one."
The battle was no longer just about survival—it was about reclaiming hope, about fighting for the future that Doom sought to extinguish.