Novelas y relatos de Iron Man Bleeding Edge Armor

“Alaric, you’re bleeding.” She pushes on my chest, asking me to sit up. I do, giving her space to go up onto her knees. She crawls toward me, her soft fingers gently touching my arm. My suit is torn. That knife tore straight through the fabric and cut into the flesh beneath. I can feel it now, a slight sting. It’s bleeding a lot but it’s not deep. Though that it hasn’t healed yet, thanks to my quick healing factor as an Alpha, means that the blade must have been silver.

He throws me a glare before disappearing out the window that Lyza slides open. She glanced at me with an amused smile. "I only heard half of that conversation," she chuckles. "He's just being a baby because I won't let him have his armor back," I sigh. "Armor?" "Yeah, it's a special metal that goes over his talons, he can cause a lot more damage with them, so I've kept them hidden. He used to kill people when he was upset," I explain. "Wow I'm kinda starting to miss when my life wasn't so crazy," she murmurs with a sigh.

The other was deep obsidian with streaks of violet color that pulsed with an energy that crackled like lightning. Two swords lay beside them—twin blades, pulsing with raw power. One for Xander. One for me. The forge had gifted us. Xander stepped forward first, his usual composed expression was filled with awe. He reached out, fingers grazing the silver armor. The moment he touched it, the entire armor responded, shifting slightly like it had recognized him I swallowed hard and looked at my own. The obsidian armor was calling out to me like an extension of myself that I didn't understand yet.

"I hoped I would never have to open it. But I built it for you." He turned to his son. "Alex," Jackson pointed to a suit. "You are the leader now." Alex walked up to a mannequin. The suit was sleek, black, woven with optic fibers. It had a built-in neural link for hacking on the fly. "This is..." Alex touched the fabric. "Polymer mesh. Bulletproof. And it syncs with your glasses," Jackson said. Next, Jackson turned to Mia. "My fighter." He handed her a pair of collapsed batons made of dark metal. "Vibranium alloy. Shock absorption. And the boots have magnetic soles for climbing."

The hybrid ember in my blood didn't flash; it exploded out of my skin in a concentrated, directional hiss of pale violet heat. The imperial silver mesh coating his armor caught the discharge instantly. The thermal shock didn't melt the metal; it caused the pressurized cooling tubes lining the interior of his vanguard plate to violently rupture. A sharp, pressurized shriek echoed through the helm as superheated freon gas flooded the interior of his suit, cook-melting his flesh from the inside out in a matter of seconds. The soldier collapsed into a heavy, twitching heap of gold and iron, his shortsword clattering away into the dark.

Rain lashed against the armored viewports of the flagship’s deployment bay, but inside the pressurized staging deck, the air was hot, dry, and thick with the electric static of impending violence. Dominic stood on the hydraulic launch ramp, fully clad in his heavy void-plate armor. The dark meteor-steel pauldrons gleamed under the red staging lights, and his dark runic tattoos burned with crackling black solar plasma. In his right hand, he held his runic obsidian blade, its black edge humming with anti-magic lightning.

Authority dripped from every syllable he spoke. I took a slow, steadying breath, burying the tremor in my hands before turning to face him. Jarrah had stripped off his heavy armor, wearing only a loose linen shirt open at the throat and dark leather trousers. The faint amber light of the hearth caught the harsh angles of his face—the jagged scar running from his cheekbone down to his jawline, the thick shadow of stubble, and those dark, unreadable eyes that seemed to strip away every lie I had ever told. He looked terrifyingly human without his plate mail, larger and far more dangerous.

Eriyumilai stood proudly between Blake’s legs. Eriyumilai’s sleek, muscular frame was now clad in matching black armor, intricately designed to complement Blake’s suit. The armor was both elegant and functional, with sharp, angular lines that mirrored the pup’s natural strength and agility. Spikes adorned his shoulders, and the chest plate gleamed with a polished finish, offering protection while enhancing his intimidating presence. The pup’s eyes, still bright with youthful energy, now held a fierce determination, his sharp teeth barely visible beneath the armor that covered his strong, battle-ready jaw.

[The Mirror’s Edge] The silver coating our skin didn't feel like a cage; it felt like a cold, second heartbeat, an obsidian exoskeleton that hummed with the intent to kill. As we stood in the shallow pool of mercury, the liquid metal solidified into a jagged, shimmering armor that responded to every twitch of my muscles. I looked at the figure in the doorway—the "me" that had never known Dante—and felt a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the "Sync" and everything to do with the void.

On the day of departure, the entire clan gathered near the main gate of the valley, standing in solemn silence. They did not cheer, they simply watched quietly as Rayden walked past them. He no longer wore his ascetic robes. He now wore the Shadow Ice Armor, a lightweight yet incredibly sturdy bluish-black leather armor capable of absorbing light and blending into shadows. At his waist hung the Frozen Moon Blade, a long, slender sword forged from eternal ice, radiating a biting cold.