Marvel x Genshin: Mavuika, The Sun Goddess Rules Asgard — Chapter 119

Chapter 119: A New Toy

Obadiah’s face was a mask of strained cordiality, the smile he offered the cameras failing to conceal the fury simmering in his eyes. He stepped forward, a hand clapping onto Tony’s shoulder in a gesture that was meant to look supportive but felt more like an attempt to restrain him. He leaned into the microphone.

“Everyone, please, be quiet!” he boomed, his voice echoing through the press hall. “Tony has just experienced a significant trauma, and his emotions are still… unstable. This decision requires detailed discussion by the board of directors. It is not something one person can decide on a whim.”

“But I have already decided,” Tony cut him off, the words sharp and clean. He turned his head, his gaze locking onto Obadiah’s with an intensity that made the older man flinch. “I am the largest shareholder and the CEO of Stark Industries. I have that power.”

Obadiah’s smile froze, cracking at the edges. The two men stared each other down on the podium, the air crackling with a tension so thick it was almost visible, a silent declaration of war broadcast live across the globe. Every camera in the room zoomed in, capturing the raw, unfiltered moment: Tony’s unyielding resolve against Obadiah’s barely contained shock and rage. A chasm had just opened between them, wide and obvious.

“Tony,” Obadiah hissed, his voice low and dangerous, but the sensitive microphones picked up every syllable. “We need to talk. In private!”

“We already talked, Obie,” Tony’s voice remained level, but each word was a precisely aimed dart. “We talked before my car was blown to pieces. We talked before those missiles—the ones I designed—were almost used to kill me. What did you say back then? ‘Weapons are our foundation’? ‘You can’t let emotions get in the way of business’?”

He turned back to the sea of reporters, his expression resolute. “This press conference is over. What I have said today is the future direction of Stark Industries. Thank you, everyone.”

Without another glance at Obadiah, he turned and walked off the stage, leaving a maelstrom of shouting journalists and a business partner whose eyes were practically spitting fire. A wall of bodyguards instantly materialized around him, shielding him from the chaos as they ushered him through a side door and out of the media hall.

The moment the door swung shut behind him, Tony could hear Obadiah’s desperate attempt to salvage the situation. “Everyone, please try to understand Tony’s current state… This decision still requires further study… Stark Industries will, of course, continue to contribute to our country’s national defense…”

A cold, humorless sneer touched Tony’s lips. He kept walking, never looking back.

In her New York apartment, Mavuika sat curled on the sofa, a delicate porcelain cup of tea cradled in her hands. The cool blue light of the television flickered across her serene features as she watched the live broadcast.

When Tony made his stunning announcement, a single, elegant eyebrow arched in amusement. A knowing smile played at the corners of her lips. She had to admit, the man had nerve.

On the screen, a financial commentator was already dissecting the fallout. “…Stark Industries’ stock has already plummeted twenty-three percent in pre-market trading, and analysts predict a catastrophic drop once the market opens. If Tony Stark persists with this course of action, the company stands to lose over twelve billion dollars in annual revenue, and at least fifteen thousand jobs will be at risk…”

Mavuika changed the channel. Another pundit was speaking with theatrical passion. “…This is nothing short of commercial suicide! Tony Stark has clearly suffered a severe psychological break during his kidnapping. What he needs is a psychiatrist, not to be running a multi-billion-dollar corporation! Obadiah Stane should convene an emergency board meeting and have him suspended immediately…”

She flicked the channel again, this time to a news program displaying a live social media feed. The hashtag TonyIsCrazy was already trending, a chaotic mix of fervent support and biting mockery scrolling by in a blur.

“Finally! Someone with the guts to say no to the arms dealers! I support Tony!”

“Heh, let’s see how he feels when Stark Industries goes bankrupt. He’ll learn.”

“So he gets kidnapped once and suddenly he’s a saint? How ridiculous.”

“What do you people know? He watched people die from the weapons he created. Can you even imagine the impact that would have on someone?”

Mavuika switched the television off, plunging the room into quiet twilight. She didn’t need to read the endless stream of opinions to understand the hurricane Tony had just unleashed.

Stark Industries was the largest weapons manufacturer on the planet. This abrupt, radical pivot would send shockwaves through the entire military-industrial complex, destabilize geopolitical landscapes, and could even alter the balance of power in active war zones.

But she believed Tony could handle it.

The man was arrogant, headstrong, and insufferable at times, but he was no fool. If he was willing to make such a monumental decision, he had to have a plan. At the very least, he was prepared to face the consequences head-on.

A few days later, the storm broke just as she’d anticipated.

While the media was a whirlwind of condemnation and Stark Industries’ stock had indeed taken a brutal hit, the company was far from crippled. Tony moved quickly, calling an emergency board meeting. Rumor had it the confrontation was intensely hostile, but he had used his authority as the majority shareholder to force the resolution through.

Almost immediately after, Stark Industries issued a press release. It announced a massive new investment into developing clean energy and advanced medical technologies, and unveiled several non-military projects that were already in their middle-to-late stages of development. It was clear Tony had been laying the groundwork for this for a long time.

Just as the world was still furiously debating his sanity, Mavuika’s phone rang.

“Mavuika!” Tony’s voice burst through the receiver, crackling with the unadulterated excitement of a child who’d just unwrapped the greatest toy in the world. “Get over here! My house! Now! You have to see this!”

Mavuika raised an eyebrow, glancing at the clock. “Tony, it’s ten o’clock at night in New York.”

“Who cares!” he shot back, completely unconcerned. “I have something to show you! I did it! You are going to absolutely love it!”

“What is it?” Mavuika’s curiosity was piqued. It was rare to hear Tony this giddy; even when he’d unveiled the Jericho missile, he’d only offered a proud, self-satisfied whistle.

“You’ll know when you get here! No, I can’t explain it over the phone! It won’t do it justice! You have to see it with your own eyes! Now! Immediately! Right away!”

A small smile graced her lips. “Alright. Give me a few minutes.”

“Okay! Hurry!”

After hanging up, Mavuika set her teacup down, rose from the sofa, and walked out onto the balcony. Golden-red flames coiled around her form before she erupted into the night, a living comet of fire streaking silently across the glittering expanse of New York’s sky. She blazed a path west, leaving the city a distant constellation behind her.

Fifteen minutes later, she landed softly on the cliffs beside Tony’s Malibu villa.

He was already waiting for her at the entrance to his workshop, practically vibrating with impatience. He looked significantly better than he had a few days ago. The gaunt pallor was still there, but his eyes shone with a brilliant, creative fire, and his posture was steady and confident. The Arc Reactor in his chest was still visible, but it had been smoothly integrated into a sleek, black compression shirt, looking less like a life-support device and more like a deliberate centerpiece.

“You’re thirty seconds late,” Tony announced the moment he saw her.

Mavuika glanced at her wrist, where a watch of shimmering light briefly materialized. “Actually, I arrived two minutes early. You were the one who was late opening the door.”

“Details, details,” he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her into the lab. “Come on, I’ve been holding this in for days. If I don’t show it off to someone soon, I think I might actually explode.”

The workshop was Tony’s sanctuary. It occupied an entire subterranean floor of the villa, a space larger than the R&D centers of most corporations. It was a technomancer’s paradise, filled with every conceivable piece of advanced equipment: arrays of 3D printers, humming CNC machines, sophisticated material analyzers, a massive holographic projection table, and dozens of computer terminals, each dedicated to a different task.

The air was thick with a unique scent—a mixture of machine oil, ozone from active electronics, and the lingering aroma of stale coffee. It was the signature fragrance of a Tony Stark creative binge.

But today, something new dominated the center of the room. A circular platform, roughly three meters in diameter, stood half a meter off the floor. It was surrounded by six precision robotic arms, each tipped with a different tool: wrenches, welding torches, screwdrivers, and laser-cutting heads. Suspended from the ceiling above the platform was a complex array of additional mechanical devices, poised like the components of some grand, automated assembly system.

“Where’s Dr. Yinsen?” Mavuika asked, scanning the workshop but finding no sign of the kind doctor.

“He went home,” Tony replied, and the manic energy in his voice softened, replaced by a more serious, respectful tone. “Back to his family.”