Darkhold Iron Man Novels & Stories

Its locks couldn't be broken even by the best thieves here. Only the mysterious owner could unlock it without the key. The screen by the door lit and the man asked, “Did you take the trash out?” “24 Carat Gold.” Svetlana frowned, even after hearing it a couple of times it was obnoxious. It didn’t really make sense at all or maybe this stuck. "Who are you?" "Dark Swan and Black Panther." Ivana replied in her deadbeat tone. Svetlana name here was 'Siren' but she was undercover at the moment. Black Panther was on an assassination mission overseas so Svetlana was imposing as her.

"My name is Ivan. My team and I come highly recommended by some of our mutual friends in Europe. We specialize in providing comprehensive security solutions for high-value assets. It is an honor to be entrusted with the safety of this estate." Jack’s eyes met Ivan’s. To a normal person, the man projected an aura of supreme competence and detached professionalism. But to Jack’s Predator’s Sight, Ivan’s spiritual aura was a shocking, flat gray. It was devoid of the flickering colors of human emotion—no fear, no ambition, no pride. It was the color of wet concrete, a silent, unmoving void. He wasn't just a highly trained soldier; he was something else entirely. A machine in human skin.

“My Lucas is now a glass doll, and they’re draining my son’s power. What can I do alone?” Kal Bhairav smiled and handed me a small diamond shard. “Take this—your new weapon. It is not a sword, but a Sky Stone. It will only ignite when you abandon all worldly attachments and awaken a new warrior within you. And for your aid, I have summoned someone.” At that moment, a young man rode toward us through the desert dust. He wore black leather armor, with a massive bow on his back emitting silver light. His eyes were sharp like an eagle’s, and his stance carried unbreakable determination.

Arthit sighed deeply and then nodded his head while holding her swaying figure in place. Darika tilted her head as she looked at him and said, "I've seen Bat-Man, Iron Man, Spider-Man, Super Man, and even I know Aqua Man but who is this "YOUR MAN" and "MY MAN". I've never heard of him. Mr. YOUR MAN MY MAN! Are you new to the trend?". 'Silly Darika is dangerous but Drunken Darika is as fragile as a ticking bomb', Arthit thought and massaged his head. "But you don't have a suit like Iron Man, Spider-Man. No Cap, no mask, and no red tight underwear like Superman. Even Aqua Man has antiseptic", Darika giggled loudly.

​Standing beneath the pulsating beam of dark energy was Grand Archon Malakor-Prime. ​He was a terrifying sight: eight feet tall, clad in jagged armor forged from abyss-steel and void-crystal. His eyes were twin pools of endless black void, and in his right hand he held a massive, double-headed halberd that dripped with corrupted anti-mana. ​"So," Malakor-Prime rasped, his voice sounding like grinding stone. "The High Sovereign of Drakenhold and his calculating Empress have come to witness the end of their realm."

Through the spray of oil, steam, and dark blood, the heavy iron doors of the central command tower ground open. A massive figure stepped onto the deck. He wasn't wearing a diving suit; he wore the heavy, dark-blue military coat of a Western Admiral, his chest covered in medals made of unrefined moon-gems. His face was pale, his eyes entirely black—a sign of deep, generational Abyssal corruption. In his right hand, he held a massive, mechanical broadsword powered by a glowing, violet core that hissed with unstable energy.

Evren wrinkled his nose and spoke before thinking. "You reek of blood." The man nodded as he grinned. "Sorry, I did wash my hands but I do admit sixty seven kills at once would leave a bad smell." Impressive, Evren almost said but he nodded instead. The man extended his hand towards Evren. "I'm Holden, your future commander. Nice to meet you." Evren eyed him, looking him over before his gaze dropped to the crevices of his fingernails. They were stained with blood.

A deep, calm and terrifying voice came from the shadows, sounding like the voice echoed from a demon in the hell A figure stepped into the light. He was tall, built like a fighter, wearing a black leather jacket with a patch I didn't recognize. A skull bandana covered the lower half of his face, hiding everything but his eyes. Olive-green eyes. Cold, predatory, and burning with a specific kind of hate I didn't understand. "Iron Vultures," the man said, answering my unasked question. "I'm Ryan." I pissed myself. I couldn't help it. Warmth spread down my expensive designer jeans as terror seized my bladder.

“Beau Watson. Figured nobody would remember it after five years, but what are you gonna do? I also go by a fan favorite – ‘Arson Watson.’ I bet you recall that.” The Leadquist heir stared silently at him for a moment, the cogs in his brain slow in work to give him the answer. When it did, his jaw dropped, leaning toward the shorter boy. “Holy shit! You’re that Watson!? The crazy kid who they said set the Irons manor fires!?” “How the fuck are you here!?” Toby was getting impatient. He didn’t care that his fellow heir was present. He wanted, needed, answers right this second.

53) BASE POWER LEVEL: 5,500,000,000 PEAK POWER LEVEL: 15,500,700,555 WIELDER TYPE: Energy Wielder SPECIALTY: Strength; Intelligence; Vitality GLOWS: Godly Rod; Beast Sovereign Mode; War Cry NB: Elder hanuman is currently sealed. All stats will triple upon resolution of the seal. “What?” While Mane had been surprised that all the elders possessed Legendary Bloodlines - and that from ancient beasts as well - Elder Hanuman’s stats surprised him the most. This elder had an improbable bloodline, and there weer some things that even Spirit Scan could not see through. Mane immediately concluded that this old man was hiding something. However, it seemed that whatever it was that he was hiding, he wa