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Chapter 456: Make Your Choice, Shuri
A cold voice echoed faintly, its tone laced with a hint of mockery.
A man dressed in black suddenly emerged from the main entrance, each of his hands gripping a guard by the neck.
As he strode forward, his tall and sturdy frame tensed slightly. With a crisp *crack*, his steel-like hands crushed the two guards' necks.
The bodies were tossed aside casually. Behind the wide-open, ornate doors, a floor littered with corpses was revealed.
The figure, like a Demon God, looked no different from an ordinary person. He approached slowly, step by step, as if he were not in the act of killing, but taking a leisurely stroll under the sun.
Shuri's face was pale, but she was the quickest to react. Grabbing two energy pistols, she spun around and fired several shots in rapid succession at Tony.
They struck the surface of Tony's body but failed to cause even the slightest bit of damage.
"You demon!" The Old King, trembling, gripped his royal scepter. With a low roar, he charged forward.
Even in his old age, his body still contained the power of the Heart-Shaped Herb, making him far stronger than any ordinary person.
With a sharp *smack*, Tony raised his hand and placed it precisely on the Old King's head. With a light flick downwards, T'Chaka was slammed head-first into the ground. The immense force instantly left a pool of blood on the floor.
His stride, as if perfectly calculated, lifted and fell, then lifted and fell again, effortlessly carrying him over T'Chaka, who had been thrown behind him.
His head dragged along the ground, leaving a long trail of blood.
Tony calmly approached Shuri. Watching her fire her weapon in vain and scream in despair, he slowly reached out and wrapped his hand around her neck.
In the noble, elegant, and magnificent hall, everyone was frozen, trembling as they watched Tony.
It was as if they were looking at a demon.
"When did you get in?"
"You demon!!!"
Tears streamed from Shuri's eyes. Like a madwoman, she dropped her weapons and began to beat fiercely against Tony.
Suddenly, Tony let go. Shuri collapsed to the floor, clutching her throat and coughing in pain.
"Very interesting. Did you know you've unintentionally created a rather troublesome thing?"
Tony sat down on the King's throne without ceremony. The seat was soft to the touch; beneath him was the lion's hide.
With a mere raise of his hand, Tony took control of everything in Wakanda, and all attacks ceased.
The Wakandans fighting a heroic blood war on the front lines, and the Transformers engaged in a frenzied slaughter—both stopped their actions simultaneously.
The Transformers had received Primus' command, and they ceased their assault with fanatical expressions.
The Wakandans, however, discovered in horror that their weapons were now completely useless. No matter how desperately they pulled the triggers, nothing happened.
Tony had seamlessly taken control of everything related to the giant radar.
The more he examined it, the more astonished Tony became.
Some of the research was enough to leave even Tony in awe.
"A weapon capable of affecting the Spark... using metastable ion collision? It also incorporates some research targeting metallic bodies. While crude, it is indeed somewhat effective against the fodder Transformers."
This reminded Tony of his past life and a superweapon used during the Autobot-Decepticon Civil War: the Spark Extractor.
To put it bluntly, a Transformer's Spark is like a human's heart. It is the energy core that provides power, and all energy must be routed through it.
A human heart is fragile, and the Spark is not flawless either. Otherwise, a Transformer who took a blade to the chest wouldn't die.
If the Spark suffers critical damage, even a being as tenacious as a Transformer is done for.
However, this only applies to the fodder units who haven't even reached Type I.
They were truly just fodder, much like the ordinary humans who don't even possess Level One Combat Power.
A well-trained, able-bodied man proficient in martial arts, combined with unyielding willpower and a rock-steady combat mentality, could barely be considered to have Level One Combat Power.
The fodder among the Transformers only seem so terrifying because they rely on their innate advantages: steel bodies far stronger than flesh and blood, and powerful built-in weaponry.
In reality, their status among the Decepticons is that of the lowest-tier cannon fodder, with a value of nearly zero. The resources needed to create a single Type I warrior would be enough to mass-produce hundreds of fodder units with varying levels of combat power.
If Megatron wished, he could mass-produce them by the millions at any moment. If Tony wished, he could animate all the machinery on Earth. Those cheap cars, the cell phones and watches used by humans—they would all count as fodder.
Only some super heavy trucks made of superior materials, or perhaps the large-scale industrial machinery in factories, might qualify as Type I.
Originally, Tony was just dropping by, curious to see what surprise an intellect on the cosmic scale of Shuri could offer him. He hadn't expected to actually find one.
Although it was crude, considering Shuri was a mere eighteen years old, it was already quite remarkable. Tony Stark certainly didn't possess this level of talent when he was eighteen.
Tony looked down at Shuri, who was crying and trembling as she held T'Chaka.
Worthy of being hailed as one of the smartest people on Earth in the Marvel Universe.
Perhaps only a select few, like Richard of the Fantastic Four, could rival her.
As for the immensely popular and prominent Tony Stark, his intellect truly couldn't compare to this seemingly fragile young woman.
Right now, however, she was just a sheltered young woman who had yet to see the world, crying and clinging to her father like a frightened ostrich.
"He's not dead. I held back," Tony said nonchalantly, his eyes fixed on Shuri, betraying no emotion.
That's right. He had just come to look around and size up Shuri. It was all very casual, very spontaneous.
"Even those guards and warriors killed outside—I have ways to resurrect them, make them stronger, and grant them long lives. You should know that I possess a substance capable of reviving the dead," Tony said.
"Like Ben? Indistinguishable from an ordinary person, but in reality, he's your puppet?" Shuri asked, clutching her unconscious father. Her reddened eyes betrayed a complex mixture of resentment and terror.
"Does that matter?" Tony asked flatly from the throne. "The people I revive possess a powerful regenerative ability, a lifespan of at least several hundred years, and their complete memories from before death. They even retain their capacity for joy and sorrow. I change nothing, except that they must obey my commands."
"And yet, to this day, I haven't used Ben to make Spider-Man do anything. Spider-Man is quietly attending university, and I'm the one paying his tuition. You know his family struggles financially. Those institutions of higher learning are like vampires—they would have bled his family dry."
"Without me, his family wouldn't be living so comfortably. They wouldn't have the luxury of traveling every holiday, using the leftover scholarship money to enjoy family vacations. I gave them all of that. And from the very beginning, it was Spider-Man who came begging me for help."
"Do you know how many people can't afford to attend institutions of higher learning each year because of poverty? What do you think universities in Europe and America are? Only a tiny minority ever receive corporate or institutional aid. Every year, countless students are driven to madness by colossal student loans—they turn to robbery, to prostitution."
"I was the one who gave that family a new choice, a new hope."
Shuri fell silent.
Tony was unusually patient, ignoring the nearby Elders and their varied expressions, his attention focused solely on Shuri.
"I am giving you an opportunity. Join me. Follow me to the stars, and we will build a planet of our own. Your intellect is worth my recruiting you."
(end of chapter)
A cold voice echoed faintly, its tone laced with a hint of mockery.
A man dressed in black suddenly emerged from the main entrance, each of his hands gripping a guard by the neck.
As he strode forward, his tall and sturdy frame tensed slightly. With a crisp *crack*, his steel-like hands crushed the two guards' necks.
The bodies were tossed aside casually. Behind the wide-open, ornate doors, a floor littered with corpses was revealed.
The figure, like a Demon God, looked no different from an ordinary person. He approached slowly, step by step, as if he were not in the act of killing, but taking a leisurely stroll under the sun.
Shuri's face was pale, but she was the quickest to react. Grabbing two energy pistols, she spun around and fired several shots in rapid succession at Tony.
They struck the surface of Tony's body but failed to cause even the slightest bit of damage.
"You demon!" The Old King, trembling, gripped his royal scepter. With a low roar, he charged forward.
Even in his old age, his body still contained the power of the Heart-Shaped Herb, making him far stronger than any ordinary person.
With a sharp *smack*, Tony raised his hand and placed it precisely on the Old King's head. With a light flick downwards, T'Chaka was slammed head-first into the ground. The immense force instantly left a pool of blood on the floor.
His stride, as if perfectly calculated, lifted and fell, then lifted and fell again, effortlessly carrying him over T'Chaka, who had been thrown behind him.
His head dragged along the ground, leaving a long trail of blood.
Tony calmly approached Shuri. Watching her fire her weapon in vain and scream in despair, he slowly reached out and wrapped his hand around her neck.
In the noble, elegant, and magnificent hall, everyone was frozen, trembling as they watched Tony.
It was as if they were looking at a demon.
"When did you get in?"
"You demon!!!"
Tears streamed from Shuri's eyes. Like a madwoman, she dropped her weapons and began to beat fiercely against Tony.
Suddenly, Tony let go. Shuri collapsed to the floor, clutching her throat and coughing in pain.
"Very interesting. Did you know you've unintentionally created a rather troublesome thing?"
Tony sat down on the King's throne without ceremony. The seat was soft to the touch; beneath him was the lion's hide.
With a mere raise of his hand, Tony took control of everything in Wakanda, and all attacks ceased.
The Wakandans fighting a heroic blood war on the front lines, and the Transformers engaged in a frenzied slaughter—both stopped their actions simultaneously.
The Transformers had received Primus' command, and they ceased their assault with fanatical expressions.
The Wakandans, however, discovered in horror that their weapons were now completely useless. No matter how desperately they pulled the triggers, nothing happened.
Tony had seamlessly taken control of everything related to the giant radar.
The more he examined it, the more astonished Tony became.
Some of the research was enough to leave even Tony in awe.
"A weapon capable of affecting the Spark... using metastable ion collision? It also incorporates some research targeting metallic bodies. While crude, it is indeed somewhat effective against the fodder Transformers."
This reminded Tony of his past life and a superweapon used during the Autobot-Decepticon Civil War: the Spark Extractor.
To put it bluntly, a Transformer's Spark is like a human's heart. It is the energy core that provides power, and all energy must be routed through it.
A human heart is fragile, and the Spark is not flawless either. Otherwise, a Transformer who took a blade to the chest wouldn't die.
If the Spark suffers critical damage, even a being as tenacious as a Transformer is done for.
However, this only applies to the fodder units who haven't even reached Type I.
They were truly just fodder, much like the ordinary humans who don't even possess Level One Combat Power.
A well-trained, able-bodied man proficient in martial arts, combined with unyielding willpower and a rock-steady combat mentality, could barely be considered to have Level One Combat Power.
The fodder among the Transformers only seem so terrifying because they rely on their innate advantages: steel bodies far stronger than flesh and blood, and powerful built-in weaponry.
In reality, their status among the Decepticons is that of the lowest-tier cannon fodder, with a value of nearly zero. The resources needed to create a single Type I warrior would be enough to mass-produce hundreds of fodder units with varying levels of combat power.
If Megatron wished, he could mass-produce them by the millions at any moment. If Tony wished, he could animate all the machinery on Earth. Those cheap cars, the cell phones and watches used by humans—they would all count as fodder.
Only some super heavy trucks made of superior materials, or perhaps the large-scale industrial machinery in factories, might qualify as Type I.
Originally, Tony was just dropping by, curious to see what surprise an intellect on the cosmic scale of Shuri could offer him. He hadn't expected to actually find one.
Although it was crude, considering Shuri was a mere eighteen years old, it was already quite remarkable. Tony Stark certainly didn't possess this level of talent when he was eighteen.
Tony looked down at Shuri, who was crying and trembling as she held T'Chaka.
Worthy of being hailed as one of the smartest people on Earth in the Marvel Universe.
Perhaps only a select few, like Richard of the Fantastic Four, could rival her.
As for the immensely popular and prominent Tony Stark, his intellect truly couldn't compare to this seemingly fragile young woman.
Right now, however, she was just a sheltered young woman who had yet to see the world, crying and clinging to her father like a frightened ostrich.
"He's not dead. I held back," Tony said nonchalantly, his eyes fixed on Shuri, betraying no emotion.
That's right. He had just come to look around and size up Shuri. It was all very casual, very spontaneous.
"Even those guards and warriors killed outside—I have ways to resurrect them, make them stronger, and grant them long lives. You should know that I possess a substance capable of reviving the dead," Tony said.
"Like Ben? Indistinguishable from an ordinary person, but in reality, he's your puppet?" Shuri asked, clutching her unconscious father. Her reddened eyes betrayed a complex mixture of resentment and terror.
"Does that matter?" Tony asked flatly from the throne. "The people I revive possess a powerful regenerative ability, a lifespan of at least several hundred years, and their complete memories from before death. They even retain their capacity for joy and sorrow. I change nothing, except that they must obey my commands."
"And yet, to this day, I haven't used Ben to make Spider-Man do anything. Spider-Man is quietly attending university, and I'm the one paying his tuition. You know his family struggles financially. Those institutions of higher learning are like vampires—they would have bled his family dry."
"Without me, his family wouldn't be living so comfortably. They wouldn't have the luxury of traveling every holiday, using the leftover scholarship money to enjoy family vacations. I gave them all of that. And from the very beginning, it was Spider-Man who came begging me for help."
"Do you know how many people can't afford to attend institutions of higher learning each year because of poverty? What do you think universities in Europe and America are? Only a tiny minority ever receive corporate or institutional aid. Every year, countless students are driven to madness by colossal student loans—they turn to robbery, to prostitution."
"I was the one who gave that family a new choice, a new hope."
Shuri fell silent.
Tony was unusually patient, ignoring the nearby Elders and their varied expressions, his attention focused solely on Shuri.
"I am giving you an opportunity. Join me. Follow me to the stars, and we will build a planet of our own. Your intellect is worth my recruiting you."
(end of chapter)
