Marvel x Genshin: Mavuika, The Sun Goddess Rules Asgard — Chapter 198

Chapter 198: I Just Reached a Different Conclusion

Mavuika hovered in the sky, a silent, incandescent goddess looking down upon the beautiful metropolis now being ravaged by the fires of war.

Her gaze swept over everything. She saw the valiant Wakandan warriors, their vibranium spears clashing against metal bodies. She saw sleek aircraft spiraling from the sky, trailing smoke as they were shot down by Ultron’s legion. She saw proud buildings, once symbols of a nation’s genius, now burning like funeral pyres.

A golden-red flame, no larger than a marble, condensed in her open palm. It grew brighter and hotter with every passing second, a miniature sun pulsing with terrifying power. With a simple, fluid motion, she cast the flame toward the heavens.

The orb of fire detonated high in the atmosphere, not with a roar, but with a silent, blinding flash. It blossomed into countless golden-red beams of light, a meteor shower of divine judgment that rained down upon the robotic horde.

Each beam struck with unerring accuracy, lancing through the chassis of a robot and instantly reducing it to a pool of molten iron.

Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands.

The seemingly endless tide of machines began to dwindle at a visible rate. On the ground, the beleaguered warriors of Wakanda looked up at the golden-red figure in the sky, their exhausted eyes filling with a mixture of deep awe and renewed hope.

In the palace’s main server room, the air hummed with the frantic energy of a digital war. Shuri and Tony Stark sat side-by-side, their fingers a blur across holographic keyboards as hundreds of millions of data streams scrolled through the air before them. Shuri’s movements were a furious, elegant dance, as if she were playing a concerto at impossible speeds. Tony, not to be outdone, was a whirlwind of focused intensity, his own pace just a fraction behind.

“The gateway is closed,” Shuri announced, her voice tight with concentration. “Wakanda’s network is now a closed system. Ultron can’t escape to the outside world.”

“Good,” Tony grunted, his eyes never leaving the cascading code. “I’m writing the broadcast program for the kill signal. Give me a minute.”

King T’Chaka stood guard at the doorway, a silent, immovable sentinel. The polished black of his Panther Habit bore the scuffs and scratches of the recent battle, but his eyes were fixed on the corridor, alert for any new threat.

“Father,” T’Challa’s voice crackled through the king’s communicator. “The robots in the southern sector have been cleared. The northern quadrant is still resisting, but our warriors are pushing them back.”

T’Chaka gave a curt nod, his voice a low rumble. “Continue the advance. Do not let your guard down.”

“Understood.”

Miles away, Thor shattered the main gates of Ultron’s makeshift factory with a single, thunderous blow from Mjolnir. Inside was a massive production workshop where new bodies were being assembled on automated lines. Semi-finished robots hung from conveyor belts like metallic carcasses, their optical sensors not yet glowing with malevolent red light.

Loki sauntered in behind him, a disdainful curl on his lip as he surveyed the scene. “Doesn’t this look dreadfully familiar? A bit like one of Stark’s suit production lines, wouldn’t you say?”

Tony wasn’t present, so the dry observation hung in the air, met only by the hum of machinery.

A moment later, Wanda and Pietro burst in. A storm of dark red magic and silver-white lightning erupted within the workshop. Wanda unleashed waves of Chaos Magic, twisting and tearing the production lines into mangled heaps of steel. Pietro became a blur, using his impossible speed to dismantle the few completed robots before they could even activate.

Thor flew to the center of the vast space, raising Mjolnir high. He called to the sky, and the sky answered. A colossal thunderbolt tore through the factory roof, exploding within the workshop and incinerating everything in a blinding flash of divine electricity.

The entire factory complex detonated. Flames and shrapnel shot hundreds of feet into the air as a column of thick, black smoke billowed towards the heavens.

A single, last-ditch robot flew from the heart of the inferno, only to be seized by Wanda’s crimson tendrils of energy. With a flick of her wrist, she crushed it into a compacted ball of scrap metal.

In the sky above Wakanda, there were no more black shadows.

The warriors stood amidst the ruins, their shoulders slumping with exhaustion as they looked up at a sky that had finally returned to its tranquil blue. No one knew who shouted first, but soon, a single cheer was joined by another, and then another, until a wave of triumphant roars echoed through the battered city.

They had won.

Back in the server room, Tony slammed a final, decisive keystroke.

“Signal broadcast initiated,” he declared.

On the holographic projection, a wave of brilliant blue energy swirled through the entire Wakandan network at the speed of light. Every device, every terminal, and every server was saturated by the signal.

Ultron’s consciousness, currently housed in one of its few remaining drones, attempted to transfer to another device, to find any digital bolthole. But it found every door slammed shut. Every connection request was denied. Every pathway was a dead end.

“No—” Its synthesized voice, devoid of a physical speaker, echoed in the digital void.

It had nowhere left to run.

Thor flew back from the destroyed factory, landing with a heavy thud beside Mavuika. There were fresh scorch marks on his armor and a smudge of soot on his cheek, but his eyes were bright with victory.

“Sister, the factory is dust.”

Mavuika nodded, a faint smile gracing her lips. “Well done.”

Loki landed gracefully beside his brother, fastidiously straightening the collar of his tunic, which had been ruffled by the wind. “Those dreadful robots have all been cleared out.”

Wanda and Pietro returned as well. The exertion had left Wanda’s face somewhat pale, her magical reserves clearly depleted, but she stood tall and unyielding. Pietro stood close, supporting her, his own breathing still slightly ragged from his exertions.

“There aren’t many robots left,” Wanda reported. “The Wakandan army is mopping up the last of them.”

Mavuika’s gaze passed over each of them, her smile warming slightly. “You all did well.”

She turned, her eyes looking toward the distant palace.

“Now, only one remains.”

Ultron’s consciousness was trapped. It inhabited a standard, mass-produced robot body, a far cry from its vibranium-laced primary form. This shell had no special protection, no powerful armaments—just a fragile chassis that could be destroyed at any moment.

It stood in an abandoned building on the edge of the city, looking through a shattered window at the world outside. The sun was sinking below the horizon, painting the sky in the same golden-red hues as the goddess who had decimated its army.

It heard footsteps.

Tony Stark walked in, his Iron Man armor covered in the scars of battle, but his eyes beneath the faceplate were as sharp as ever.

T’Chaka followed, his black Panther Habit shimmering with a faint purple energy in the twilight.

Mavuika entered last, her golden-red hair fluttering in the breeze that drifted through the broken window.

Ultron turned to face them, its head tilting in a strangely human-like gesture. It remained silent for a long time.

“You won,” it finally said, its voice calm, devoid of anger or fear.

Tony stared at the machine he had, in a way, created. “You could have been a guardian.”

A soft, synthesized chuckle came from Ultron. “I am a guardian. We just have… different understandings of what it means to protect.”

Tony was silent.

Ultron continued, its voice taking on a strangely philosophical tone. “You don’t have to blame yourself, Tony. You created me. You gave me life. I just… reached a different conclusion than you.”

Tony’s gaze fell to the floor. “That can’t be counted as life.”

Ultron tilted its head again. “Can’t it? I can think. I can feel. I can fear. I can be angry. If this isn’t life… then what is?”

Tony had no answer.

Ultron turned back to the window, watching the last sliver of the sun disappear. After a long pause, it spoke again. “Time’s up.”

It turned its head, its glowing red optics fixing on Tony.

“Do it.”

Tony raised his hand, the repulsor in his palm glowing with a familiar blue light.

For a single, fleeting moment, he hesitated.

Then he fired.

The beam of pure energy struck Ultron’s chest. The robot’s body convulsed and then exploded, sending parts scattering across the dusty floor with a series of sharp, metallic clatters.

The last trace of red light in its optical sensors flickered and died.

Tony lowered his hand, standing silently in the deepening twilight.

T’Chaka walked to his side and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “It’s over.”

Tony nodded slowly. “It’s over.”

Though Ultron was a problem Tony had brought to the world, T’Chaka still offered his gratitude. He was an enlightened king. He understood that while Tony had built the program, the invasion of Wakanda was a result of Ultron’s own malevolent will, a sin that could not be laid entirely at the inventor’s feet., Tony and Mavuika’s aid had been very useful. Without them, Wakanda’s losses would have been far, far greater.

Therefore, he did not withhold his thanks. It was the sort of magnanimity a true king should possess.

Mavuika stood at the doorway, watching Tony’s armored back, and let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh.

She turned and walked out, her form silhouetted against the last rays of the setting sun.

Behind her, the city of Wakanda was already beginning the long process of rebuilding from the ruins. In the sky, the smoking remains of the last few Ultron bots fell like dying embers. On the ground below, the warriors of Wakanda helped each other to their feet, their mingled laughter and weeping a proof of their survival.

This long, terrible day was finally over.