The Mark III armor, which was supposed to accompany Tony Stark for years, was officially retired.
After dealing with Obadiah, Tony eagerly sought out Garon, thinking it was a perfect day. And then…
"Hey? Are you okay?"
"Hiss~ Don't touch my face! You bastard, don't you know you're not supposed to hit the face?!"
"Well, your face was just asking for it. Especially that mouth."
Tony and Garon sat by the shore. The difference was, Garon was enjoying the night breeze, his long hair fluttering freely in the wind, looking relaxed and elegant. Meanwhile, Tony sat with a bruised and swollen face, pressing an ice pack to his cheek, sucking in cold air with every breath in pain. Around him lay scattered pieces of his shattered armor.
Tony had sought out Garon for a test battle on the ocean near the villa. It was meant to be a field test for the suit.
But…
In the first half, Garon simply kept dodging, letting Tony chase him around, basically treating the fight like a game. In the second half, once Garon got bored, he dismantled the suit, pinned Tony beneath him, and rained punches down on his face.
All just flesh wounds, but Tony looked like a bobblehead — his head and body completely out of proportion.
…
…
Now he was really "feeling it." The test had become meaningless: the suit couldn't land a hit, couldn't dodge, couldn't block — and Tony got thoroughly beaten.
"Still confident in your toy?" Garon asked playfully.
"I told you it's not a toy! Just wait! One day I'll develop the most powerful suit and smash you into the ground with it!" Tony stormed back into his lab. As for the remnants of his suit, there was no point recovering them — they were torn into such tiny fragments that even Tony would struggle to reconstruct them, let alone anyone else.
Garon shrugged and headed home, unbothered.
"Jarvis, pull up the combat footage and analyze the data." Tony immediately began planning the Mark IV armor upon returning to his lab.
"Already done, sir. But if I may be honest, this data is of little value." Jarvis projected the analysis and responded.
"I know. But I need to get something out of this beating, or it was all for nothing." Tony replied angrily.
He replayed the battle footage repeatedly, slowing it down again and again. In the footage, Tony's movements were nearly frozen, while Garon moved like normal — sometimes so fast he left afterimages.
"Jarvis, can you calculate Garon's speed?" Tony asked, rubbing his forehead.
"Sir, based on the calculations, Mr. Garon's speed is approximately Mach 100. Judging from his body language, it appears he was holding back."
"You don't say." Tony wasn't delusional — he'd never believed his suit could take on Garon. Even without seeing Garon's full power, it was clear he ranked high among the Saints. Otherwise, why would Melin make him a personal bodyguard?
The essence of scientific research is constant testing and improvement. Tony was no exception. Only by identifying the gaps could he find direction to improve.
So even though his mouth ran wild, his goal was to test the suit.
But now he had a headache.
His idea had been right, but he picked the wrong target. Garon's strength made the gap feel insurmountable. The test had become utterly meaningless.
"Sir, if you want to use a Saint as a test subject, I recommend starting with Bronze Saints," Jarvis suggested.
"Good idea. But the problem is… I don't really know any Bronze Saints."
"Mr. Steve is a Bronze Saint."
"America's rear of justice? Forget it. Aunt Carter would kill me."
"Another option: contact Mr. Melin and explain the situation."
Tony fell silent. That was indeed a good plan. He trusted that if he reached out to Melin and asked for help, he'd get it.
But Tony's pride wouldn't allow him to rely on others to grow all the time. The kidnapping had already been one such moment — he wasn't ready for a second.
Plus… the whole point of developing his armor was to do something right in this world — fight terrorists, dismantle illegal arms trades, stop wars.
And when the Holy War finally arrived, he didn't want to depend on others to protect him — even if those others were the respected Saints and Melin.
Tony fell into deep thought, searching for ways to test his armor and directions to improve it — until Jarvis interrupted him.
"Sir, Colonel Rhodes is here."
"Rhodey? Why is he here? Tell him to go… No, wait! Tell him to leave! I don't want to see him ri—"
"Too late. Colonel Rhodes is already downstairs."
As Jarvis finished, the lab's glass door opened.
"Hey Tony, I've got someth— Whoa! Shit! What happened to you?!"
"…Don't ask. Long story."
"Then make it a short one?"
"…Please leave. Before I lose my temper."
…
Garon returned home, and Melin was waiting for his report.
"My lord, that kid Tony… he's really growing."
"Oh? So you beat him up for it?" Melin asked with a half-smile.
"Heh, not my fault. That mouth of his really asked for it."
"That much is true. Aren't you afraid he'll dock your pay?"
"Not at all. Maria handles my payroll."
"Heh. So, tell me — what do you think of that armor of his?"
"At its current stage? Still just a toy," Garon said, picking the most accurate term.
"At its current stage… huh?"
"Exactly. Tony is stubborn to the core. Once he's made up his mind, he won't stop until he hits a wall — and even then he'll keep going. His armor has great potential. So… the future looks promising."
"You're giving him such high praise?" Melin raised a brow. Garon was known for his pride, even in Sanctuary. He got along with others just fine, but those he genuinely acknowledged were few and far between. Outside of Sanctuary, only Steve had earned such a compliment. Now Tony became the second.
"My lord, should we—"
"No need. Tony's pride won't like that. If he doesn't ask for help himself, don't bother. But we can inform Howard. Let him slowly introduce Orichalcum and Cosmo theory to him," Melin instructed.
"Howard, huh? My lord, I heard he's made progress with Orichalcum research?"
"Yes, Howard's a true genius. He studied under the Jamir clan for just two years and already developed a whole new processing technique. I hear he's made great strides in making Cloths more portable. Soon, you guys won't have to carry those big boxes around anymore." Melin chuckled.
"That's amazing. You have no idea, my lord — walking around with that giant box draws so much attention."
"That doesn't apply to you, does it? Don't you store yours in a pocket dimension?"
"Uh… hehe, I was just thinking of the others."
"Oh? Is that so? I recall Shion recently reported that Sanctuary's laundry room broke down. Since you care so much about your brothers, you can—"
Whoosh~
Garon shuddered and vanished on the spot. A voice echoed from the void: "Still got work to do, heading back to the office!"
Melin smiled broadly. This rascal was getting more mischievous by the day — but he didn't mind. No matter how old they got, in Melin's eyes, they were still children. Compared to rigid seriousness, a lively household was far more pleasant.
…
Garon really did return to his office at Stark Industries. Though he rarely visited, someone always kept it clean and tidy.
This was Garon's safehouse — every time Melin's scheming side came out, he'd escape here.
He refused to believe that the mighty Pope of Sanctuary actually reported laundry room issues to Lord Melin!
Can't people just wash their own clothes? Married ones have wives, single ones have girlfriends, and the rest can go to laundromats! Why would it fall to him?!
No, wait — that wasn't the point! The real issue was the memories Garon had of being pranked by Melin and Shion together. It was a permanent stain on his honor — memories he wanted to erase forever.
Just thinking about it made him feel like he was surrounded by the stench of dirty socks, his stomach churning. Those beasts! They hid socks under beds for years without washing!
Especially his big brother Saga! Gentle and kind on the outside, but utterly dark on the inside. He'd pat your shoulder with concern, lull you into a false sense of security — then dump a mountain of dirty laundry on your head, including those same socks!
"Hoo~ Guess I won't be going back anytime soon. I'll just stay here a few days," Garon decided.
At that moment, his phone buzzed. Two messages.
The first was from Jarvis, letting him know that after he left, Tony's best friend Colonel Rhodes showed up. Upon seeing Tony's bruised face, he laughed wildly and even took pictures as souvenirs. Tony swore revenge on both Rhodes and Garon. Jarvis advised Garon to be careful.
Photo attached.
Garon burst into laughter, pounding the desk so hard he shattered it.
You want revenge? Heh, come on, let's see how you like the bobblehead life.
The second message was from Pepper — a work-related email. But upon opening it, Garon was stunned and immediately called her.
"Hello?"
"Pepper, you're not joking, are you?"
"About what?"
"The email!"
"Of course not. That job was originally Tony's, but he assigned it to you."
"I…"
"I checked your schedule — you're free tomorrow. No food poisoning, no traffic jams, no emergency room trips…"
Garon: 囧
"Be on time. This meeting is very important to the company. That's all."
Click
Even after the call ended, Garon remained in a daze. Once he confirmed that the person mentioned in the email was Hope van Dyne, he howled at the sky:
"TONY! YOU SCREWED ME!"