Iron Man Blood Edge Armor Novels & Stories

Mark felt like a car hit him, but the robotic suit absorbed most of the inertia from the impact. Now on his back, Mark had to put the armored suit to work, and he used it to block the reinforced, flexible titanium that covered 2Pac’s four knuckles. Mark tried to block every punch that 2Pac attempted to bring down on his half-exposed face. One punch from 2Pac slipped through. The metal man’s fist contacted the top part of the robotic suit’s hyper-alloy helmet. Mark had to get 2Pac off of him and he knew if the robot punched him in the face, he would break every bone in his jaw.

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.

But they were no longer just wolves. Each warrior was clad in a suit of "Qi-Fiber" armor, a combination of the ship's advanced carbon-nanotubes and Scarlett’s protective talismans. Their claws were tipped with spirit-conductive silver, and their eyes were fitted with tactical HUDs that allowed them to "see" the Qi-flow of their enemies.

[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.

I’d always thought of him as the Captain America of these Avengers, but he obviously saw himself more as Iron Man. On his head he had a helmet. Not like a hat or down to his ears and neck, I mean covering everything. Other than a slit across his eyes, nothing was exposed. He drew his sword out of its scabbard. An arrow hit him on the chest and bounced off. Another hit him on the side of the head, and splintered into pieces. The helmet didn’t even have a scratch on it. “He can keep trying, but it won’t make a difference. First I’m going to kill you, then him.”

Their armor isn't cheap after all. But a man in the hood wearing a uniform of The Blood Demon sect stands up and takes off his soft armor within the robe and gives it to Zhu Wushang. "You can use my armor." The hooded man speaks to Zhu Wushang and stands back by two paces to see what Zhu Wushang is going to show them. Zhu Wushange is checking the hooded man armor and found that his armor is made by the Blood spirits ore which is a high-grade material in the upper realm but its property is not appropriate for making armor. It should make the support treasure that helps to circulate spirit qi instead.

Damn it, Alpha Garson infected his own soldiers with parasite mutations, too! One elite commander leaps down and lands directly in front of me. His armor is drenched in black blood, his face pale with swollen veins bulging along his neck. Thick black spider veins spread across his face.

Still, he firmly believed that I had to be alive, and he was going to find me no matter what. Suddenly, a stray bullet whizzed right past him, grazing his arm. Vernon felt a sudden sharp pain in his arm as blood began seeping out of his skin and into his clothes. Yet, he never stopped. He just gritted his teeth and continued moving forward. After what felt like an eternity, he suddenly thought he heard someone calling my name. He immediately looked up and saw that I was safe and sound and still in one piece while giving out orders to the medical personnel there.

The iridescent blue aura of the sub-ether wrapped around my hand, humming with the raw, chaotic energy of the Origin-Code. The Avatar's crimson visor snapped toward us. One of its massive arms raised a plasma-broadsword to cut us out of the sky. Too late. We collided with the chest plate. Dax kicked the bike sideways, using the heavy iron chassis to absorb the kinetic impact against the golden armor. At the exact moment of impact, I drove my phased, glowing blue hand directly into the center of the Founder’s chest cavity. The Phase-Shield ignored the golden durasteel completely. My hand passed through the physical armor like it was mist, plunging deep into the dark, cybernetic heart of the m

"Six rogues, silver ammunition, coordinated assault pattern. This is just the opening move." I was already reaching for the tactical gear he'd brought earlier—lightweight body armor, silver-resistant mesh, weapons that could level the playing field against an enemy that had come prepared for war. But when I tried to lift the armor over my head, my back screamed in protest and my arms refused to cooperate properly. *Fuck.* The silver extraction site was still tender, the muscles around it stiff and uncooperative. Dr. Martinez had warned me about limited mobility for at least another week, but I'd assumed adrenaline would compensate for whatever physical limitations remained.