C125

The voice of the cyborg echoed across the flight base, cutting through the chaos like a blade.

Amid the billowing air and countless cannonballs whizzing by, the air reeked of gunpowder and war. Yet, even the cacophony of battle could not drown out the chilling, unyielding authority in his words.

The soldiers stood frozen, nerves frayed to their limit.

Through the brief but intense skirmish, they had come to understand one thing clearly: the man before them was beyond anything they could handle. With a single, effortless move, he had neutralized their barrage of shells.

This being, wielding such extraordinary power, had transcended the limits of humanity. To the soldiers, his abilities seemed otherworldly, unattainable. Perhaps only Captain America—legendary hero of the last century and product of the "super-soldier program"—could stand a chance against him.

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances. They knew the truth.

"The last chance?"

General Ross, standing behind the front lines, muttered the phrase under his breath. A faint sneer tugged at his lips. No one could threaten him.

"Bronsky."

Ross turned to Colonel Emil Bronsky, who stood at the ready.

During the mission to capture Bruce Banner, Bronsky had demonstrated his exceptional combat prowess.

Although the mission itself had failed, Bronsky's skill in both command and combat had not gone unnoticed by Ross, who held him in high regard.

Without Bronsky, the mission's losses would have been far greater. Even after Banner was teleported away, it was Bronsky's efforts that had secured Stockman and the others, finally subduing the trained and elusive adversaries they faced.

Bronsky had also traced the escapees' whereabouts, leading to their eventual capture. Should the teleportation technology prove successful, Bronsky's contributions would undoubtedly play a key role.

Of course, the majority of the credit would belong to Ross himself.

"You're not intimidated by that robot, are you?" Ross asked, his tone calm yet laced with challenge.

"Of course not!"

Bronsky grinned, hefting a gun loaded with armor-piercing rounds. With a nod of confidence, he replied, "I can't wait."

"Good."

Ross stepped back, his eyes narrowing as he gazed up at the cyborg hovering in the sky.

"It's your turn now."

His voice was firm as he issued his order. "Don't let me down. Hold that robot at all costs."

Even as Ross spoke, he noticed a soldier at the edge of the flight base signaling to him. It was the team he had dispatched to relocate Stockman and the others.

Everything was proceeding as planned.

Ross's earlier defiance—his refusal to hand over the prisoners—did not mean he was blind to the situation.

It was obvious that the cyborg's combat capabilities far exceeded what the military could handle. With their current weapons and equipment, they stood little chance of taking him down.

If Ross wanted to secure Stockman and the others, his priority had to be evacuating them from the base and fast.

In short, the teleportation technology could not be allowed to fall into someone else's hands.

To ensure a successful transfer of the prisoners, someone had to hold the enemy back, and Emil Bronsky took on the task without hesitation.

How could Ross, with his age and physical limitations, fight the enemy himself?

Bronsky didn't mind. As a battle-hardened soldier with a hint of war-madness, he was exhilarated by the situation unfolding before him. The chaos, the challenge—it was everything he thrived on.

He shifted his gaze back to the cyborg hovering in the sky. The arrogance faded from his face as he raised his weapon, taking aim.

A few seconds passed.

Boom!

An armor-piercing projectile shot out with immense force.

Anton, in his cyborg form, sensed the projectile approaching from his side and shifted quickly, narrowly avoiding it.

Whoosh!

The projectile whizzed past his ear.

Anton refocused, his sensors locking onto the jeep where the three prisoners were being escorted. His gaze shifted to Ross, Bronsky, and the soldiers standing between him and his target.

"Trying to leave?" Anton sneered. "You didn't ask for my permission!"

Without hesitation, he charged into the soldiers, effortlessly knocking them down with a single punch each, disabling them one by one.

An armored vehicle rolled up, its long barrel aimed directly at him.

Anton moved swiftly, gripping the barrel and twisting it. The shell detonated inside, sending the vehicle into the air. It exploded in a fiery blaze before crashing back to the ground in pieces.

Bronsky, observing Anton's raw power and incredible mobility, realized the soldiers didn't stand a chance. If left unchecked, the cyborg would wipe them out entirely.

Determined, Bronsky took the offensive. He climbed into another armored vehicle, aimed its artillery, and began firing.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

His combat experience and tactical instincts allowed him to predict Anton's movements. The artillery shells hurtled toward the silver figure, each one appearing perfectly calculated.

Anton, however, had no interest in dragging out the fight. With precise timing, he extended his mechanical hand, catching one of the shells mid-flight.

Boom!

The large-caliber shell detonated in his grip, leaving him completely unharmed.

"What about sonic weapons?" Bronsky barked over the combat channel. "Deploy sonic weapons at maximum output! Attack helicopters, surround that damn robot!"

"Understood!"

The soldiers, though frightened, followed orders.

But the vast disparity in power between Anton and the military was insurmountable.

The sonic weapons released an ear-splitting shockwave, creating an oppressive, vibrating force field that surrounded Anton.

Anton, unfazed, calmly muted his mechanical body's audio receptors. His sensory world became silent, leaving only the sight of fire and exploding projectiles before him. The sonic weapon's "maximum lethality" had no effect on him.

The shockwaves themselves posed even less of a threat.

From a distance, an attack helicopter rose into the air, its weapons aimed at Anton.

Before it could fire, Anton raised his hand and launched an energy cannon. The glowing projectile struck the helicopter, sending it spiraling down in flames.

Anton smashed the roof of the armored car with a single punch, ripped off the large-caliber artillery, and lifted Bronsky, the main driver, out of the vehicle. With Bronsky dangling in one hand, he began to walk slowly toward Ross, who stood not far away.

In the process, Anton casually flung a bomb toward the edge of the flight base with his free hand.

Boom!

The shell exploded just in front of a jeep attempting to flee.

The jeep shook violently, as though caught in an earthquake. The passengers, secured by their seat belts, were thrown about and struggled to maintain their posture.

The driver slammed on the brakes, staring wide-eyed at the massive crater now blocking their path. Swallowing hard, his forehead drenched in sweat, he turned his gaze back toward the smoking battlefield. 

Through the haze, the robot's figure stood out—the glowing red light of its eyes cutting through the chaos.

The driver understood the warning clearly.

If they dared to move again, the next bomb would not land in the open space ahead. It would strike the jeep directly.

Anton rose into the air, his posture exuding dominance and inevitability, as though the battle was already won.

He hovered closer to Ross and unceremoniously dropped Bronsky at the general's feet.

Ross's expression twisted in a mix of anger and humiliation as he glared at Anton, who loomed above him.

The cyborg's calm, leisurely voice broke the tense silence:

"Is this all you're capable of, General Ross?"

Anton's gaze burned into Ross's, unrelenting.

"If this is the extent of your strength, I suggest you give up hunting Banner altogether. If he loses control, there are few people in this world who can stop him. And you, General, are definitely not one of them."

…

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