Let Me Make You Fly!
21: Chapter 21: Acting Cool?
Let Me Make You Fly!
His tone was incredibly sincere.
So sincere that it made one want to punch him right in the face.
Iron Monger didn’t waste any words.
The Repulsor Ray on its right arm charged—fire.
Boom.
The blue beam slammed directly into Luke.
The beam dispersed.
Luke was still standing there.
His clothes weren’t even wrinkled.
The blue light remaining from the muzzle reflected off his sunglasses; it even looked kind of cool.
“Yeah~” He let out an interjection.
Just one.
Then he continued speaking, his speed unchanged, his rhythm unchanged, as if that blast just now had been nothing but a breeze.
“Firing without saying a word of nonsense, you villains really are the scary ones~” Iron Monger fired another shot.
Boom.
Luke didn’t budge an inch.
“Seriously, this kind of attack—” The third shot.
Boom.
“—to me—” The fourth shot.
Boom.
“—really doesn’t feel like anything—” The fifth shot.
Boom boom boom boom boom.
Iron Monger went berserk, unleashing a continuous barrage.
Repulsor Ray, shoulder missiles, leg launchers—all weapon systems were emptied, turning the spot where Luke stood into a new crater.
The explosion lasted for twelve seconds.
After twelve seconds, the ammunition was depleted.
Smoke billowed.
Iron Monger’s cooling system whirred loudly; the machine’s temperature was approaching the danger zone.
From within the smoke, Luke’s voice calmly finished the sentence that had been interrupted.
“—at all.” The smoke cleared.
He was standing in the exact same spot.
The exact same spot.
The crater under his feet was new, the surrounding ruins were new, but his position hadn’t shifted by even a centimeter.
Not even a speck of dust had touched his white uniform.
Iron Monger’s system popped up a notification that had never appeared before: Suggestion—Retreat.
“However…” Luke’s tone suddenly shifted slightly, becoming a bit more serious, “You’ve hit me, you’ve bombed me, it’s about time we talked business, right~” He lifted one hand, pulled it out of his pocket, palm facing up, and made a “please” gesture.
“Surrender?” Iron Monger’s response was to pour all remaining energy into its right arm, charging the Repulsor Ray to its maximum value; the mechanical arm trembled from the overload.
Luke sighed.
“Sigh, not saying a single word of nonsense, you really don’t know how to chat.” The muzzle glowed.
The light was blinding.
The moment Iron Monger fired— A flash of golden light.
There wasn’t even a sound.
It wasn’t the golden light of an explosion, nor the golden light of energy.
It was sunlight.
Luke moved.
No one saw how he moved.
Iron Monger’s sensors didn’t see it.
The Spider-Sense of Spider-Man on the rooftop didn’t perceive it.
Sharon Carter, three streets away, didn’t capture it with her binoculars either.
When everyone saw the image again.
The right arm that Iron Monger had used to fire the shell—was severed.
It was broken off at the shoulder.
The cut surface was as smooth as a mirror; the metal molecules had been perfectly severed, and the edges were even reflecting light.
The severed arm, still carrying the charging Repulsor Ray, fell to the ground; the blue light flickered twice, then extinguished.
Luke stood two meters in front of Iron Monger, his right hand still held in a hand-blade stance, before slowly withdrawing it into his pocket.
He looked up, his gaze behind his sunglasses sweeping over Iron Monger’s severed shoulder.
“Look at this~” Luke said in a tone of distress.
“Causing so much destruction, several buildings are gone, the ground is destroyed too, how much will it cost to repair all this~” He tsked.
“Your uncle here, I hate people who waste money the most.” Iron Monger’s system was already flashing all red.
The right arm’s functions were completely lost, weapon systems were sixty percent damaged, and energy reserves were below fifteen percent.
But the more fatal thing wasn’t the hardware damage.
It was fear.
Pure, unadulterated fear.
That move just now from this person—he didn’t even know what the other party had used.
A hand-blade?
A kick?
An energy attack?
His system had no record of it; there wasn’t even a log for the event of “being attacked.” It was as if his arm hadn’t been cut off, but rather judged by the rules of the World as “should not exist.” Luke took off his sunglasses, revealing his full face.
Clean, young, with regular features, a faint curve hanging at the corners of his mouth.
But there was no smile in his eyes.
“So then—” His tone was airy.
“My turn.” Luke raised his leg.
The movement was very slow.
So slow that Iron Monger could clearly see the entire process of his toe lifting from the ground, his knee bending, and his thigh exerting force.
And then— Fast.
Fast to the point of having no transition.
A kick.
It struck dead center on Iron Monger’s chest reactor.
Iron Monger’s mecha body, a 1.5-ton alloy frame, was like a baseball being struck under that kick, lifting off the ground.
Not flying out.
Flying up.
Vertically upward.
Iron Monger’s figure turned into a black dot within half a second, carrying a visible white mist of a sonic boom, rushing toward the high sky at a speed far exceeding the speed of sound.
The Impact spread out from beneath Luke’s feet; the ground cracked, rubble splashed, and his white cape was lifted by the airflow, snapping loudly.
Luke withdrew his leg.
Stood still.
He looked up, watching the black dot that Iron Monger had become get smaller and smaller, until it disappeared into the clouds.
He pulled the phone from his pocket to check the time, and smacked his lips.
“Sigh, I’m going to be late for dinner again.” Three streets away.
Tony Stark and Spider-Man were together, maintaining the same posture.
Heads tilted back.
Mouths agape.
Pupils dilated.
Spider-Man’s mask was crooked, and he even forgot to straighten it.
“That guy…” Peter Parker’s voice trembled, “He…
he just now…
one kick…” Tony didn’t speak.
His brain was performing calculations at the highest load in history.
That man in the yellow suit.
No, the man in the white military uniform.
Teleportation, physical immunity, hyper-speed cutting, power output exceeding the upper limit.
All stacked on one person.
He didn’t know how to classify this kind of existence.
Spider-Man swallowed hard.
“Mr.
Stark, is that guy…
a good guy?” Tony was silent for a long time.
“…He has ‘Justice’ written on his back.” “Oh!
Then he’s a good guy!” “You know Chinese?” “I don’t, but those two characters just look very righteous.” Tony glanced at him.
Clear, unadulterated stupidity.
On the rooftop.
Sharon Carter put down her binoculars.
She picked up the walkie-talkie, her fingers trembling.
“Natasha.” “I’m listening.” “That greasy superpower guy…” “Hmm?” “He kicked Iron Monger into the sky with one kick.” The other end of the walkie-talkie was silent for five seconds.
“…Literally?” “Literally.
Kicked, into the sky, he might have already left the atmosphere.” Another five seconds of silence.
“…I’m speeding up.” In the center of the battlefield.
Luke patted the dust that didn’t exist off his body.
He looked up at the sky.
Iron Monger could no longer be seen at all.
“At this height…
he shouldn’t die from the fall, right?” He thought for a moment.
“Whatever, he’s made of iron, he should be pretty durable.” His white cape fluttered in the wind; the two characters for “Justice” on the back were exceptionally eye-catching in the sunset.
Luke turned around, put his hands back into his pockets, and walked in the direction away from the battlefield.
He muttered as he walked.
“I just want to live a peaceful life…
why do these people always keep fighting near my home…” He walked leisurely, his white figure appearing out of place amidst the ruins.
Clean, composed, relaxed.
As if this mess had nothing to do with him.
As if he were just an ordinary citizen passing by.
If ordinary citizens could kick people out of the atmosphere with one kick, that is.
Maybe it’s not a big deal now… maybe it will be later.
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”