Iron Man Blood Edge Armor Novels & Stories

of "Hardened-Will." Elen, directing the efforts from her "Foundry-Core," ordered the construction of the Great-Armor-Plates. These were not energy shields or conceptual barriers; they were literal "Slabs of Neutron-Iron" and "Pressed-Soot," kilometers thick, designed to "Skin" the Multiverse. The Guilds and the Secessionists worked in a "Desperate-Synchronicity," using "Resonance-Welding" to fuse the plates together. They were building a "Cosmic-Chassis"—a structure that would ensure no "Siphon" could ever latch onto their "Will-Stream" again.

A flash of golden-red flame exploded from my hand, and instantly died. The Void-Iron armor didn't catch fire. It didn't even heat up. The dark metal sucked the flame straight out of my palm like water down a drain, glowing a faint, angry purple for half a second before dulling back to ash-gray. A cold dread settled in my gut; if fire couldn't touch these things, I had no idea what could. The guard didn't even flinch. It drove its heavy iron knee straight up into my ribs. CRACK.

Its edge shimmered under the moonlight. I stared. “You… you fight?” His jaw was clenched. “I was raised human, remember? We don’t get claws. We get steel.” Without waiting, he surged forward. The blade danced in his hands with terrifying precision. One swing, and a Bloodfang dropped, clutching his bleeding side. Another leapt at him—Elric turned, ducked, drove the sword through his stomach. |Steel instead of fangs.| Elara summoned vines from the earth, wrapping around another warrior’s legs, but more poured in.

Not of biology, like me, but of iron and hatred. The man stood nearly seven feet tall, bulked out by a crude, industrial exoskeleton. It wasn't the sleek, polished armor of a superhero movie. It was ugly. It was welded together from scavenged mining equipment, stolen military plating, and exposed hydraulic cables. Thick steel plates covered his chest and legs, painted a dull, matte grey. On his right arm, he wore a massive, piston-driven gauntlet that hummed with magnetic energy. On his left forearm was mounted a sawed-off, drum-fed auto-shotgun. But it was his face that froze the blood in my veins.

Weapon grids online. The parameters are set. The only thing the automated defense system needs to jump-start its dead pre-Pulse circuits is a high-frequency, direct biological catalyst—the pure, radioactive blood of the First Hearth. I look down at my trapped left hand, the iron-and-silver cuffs burning into my skin. There is no key, and there is no time.

Before Vance’s inhuman face, twisted with rage, Catherine’s body was instantly covered by a layer of flowing, silvery-white nanometal. That wasn't one of those bulky prototypes in the S.H.I.E.L.D. labs. This was a sleek, form-fitting suit of liquid armor, like a second skin. It surged from her bracelet, covering her evening gown and transforming her in seconds into a breathtakingly beautiful, gleaming war goddess. The armor's helmet closed over her face piece by piece, until only a pair of ice-blue electronic eyes, flashing with tactical data, were visible. "You think you're a Titan?" Catherine's voice boomed through the armor's speakers, cold, authoritative, and devoid of any human emotion.

I focused on my own pulse, making it steady, making it a biological anchor. "I am here. We are here." She stared at my chest. She saw the fresh, dark blood leaking from the gaps in my armor—blood she had drawn. The rage broke. It was a sudden systemic collapse. Her eyes cleared, the black receding to reveal violet slits. She looked at me, her pupils blowing wide with horror. "I... I hit you," she choked out. "I can take it," I said. My jaw ached as I forced a breath. "I am iron."

From now on, don't call me Dad. Aiden panicked, as if he had only just realized what he had said. He immediately tried to fix it in a flurry. "Dad, that's not what I meant. Mom definitely did wrong. I blame her too--" "You blame her?" I laughed sarcastically. "You're lying. You only think I'm being troublesome. You and your mother are the family. I'll always be the outsider, the slave serving you all." Watching his face grow paler and paler, I said with complete sincerity, "I truly wish I had never had a son like you. You're just as vicious and selfish as your mother, sucking my blood like a leech."

Brand awoke with a startling sense of déjà-vu. He was face down in sand and a large fur boot lay in his field of vision as he blinked. Faen! This time when he tried to push up, however, his arms would not cooperate. Iron manacles were locked around his wrists. Heavy chains rattled behind him as he struggled to turn over. He felt the pinch of the blade and smelled the coppery tang of blood as a rivulet ran down his neck. He froze, panting.

But now he was an armored titan. Mane was clad fully in a sea blue armor that complemented his eyes well. The helmet of the armor covered his entire face, exposing only his deep blue eyes. The armor looked strong and powerful, and was complete with a sword. The sword was no simple blade. For it sparkled with lightning and rang out with thunder. It was large and heavy, and made entirely out of stone, just like the armor was.