Marvel: Rise of the Ultimate AI

The mighty Avengers had once again thwarted a threat from the depths of the ocean.

Tony Stark found it a bit surreal—they had somehow stumbled into victory. That man in the yellow-scaled armor, who called himself the King of Atlantis, had vanished without a trace. Now, the waters near New York were littered with the corpses of Atlantean warriors.

…And a whole lot of cooked seafood.

The colossal frozen tsunami that appeared near Manhattan had become a true spectacle. What kind of terrifying power could freeze an entire tidal wave mid-surge?

To ordinary folks, it was a sight to gawk at. But to insiders, it was a chilling revelation.

Stark's nerves tightened. Those so-called "superheroes" who'd emerged during the battle... there were more of them now than he'd ever seen before. And the massive aircraft that had streaked across the sky? That left a particularly deep impression.

"So we're just small fry? All the credit for the final blow goes to those mystery capes?" Reed Richards sounded frustrated. The idea gnawed at him.

Ever since their clash with the silver-skinned being who called himself the Herald of Galactus, Reed had begun comparing himself to these mysterious new heroes.

The results weren't flattering.

It was clear: he couldn't match them.

And after witnessing the full-scale invasion of Atlantis, this feeling of inadequacy only deepened. They—the supposed Avengers—felt like mere background players.

"Yeah, well, you're not entirely wrong," Stark shrugged. "But Reed, you know what we're doing here. What we're building—it could end all global conflicts in one fell swoop. We're protecting our home. That has to count for something."

"I hope you're right…" Reed murmured, his gaze distant.

Right now, Reed, Stark, and Dr. Banner were neck-deep in advanced research—plans that were already yielding early breakthroughs. If their project succeeded, it could change the world, freeing superheroes from the endless cycle of battle.

"Hey, come on, guys! Don't be so glum. Let's move!" Stark clapped his hands, rallying his teammates as he dove back into his work.

__

"Mission report: Atlantis!"

Not far from New York, at a S.W.O.R.D. transport station, Doom and his team boarded the legendary shuttle bound for headquarters.

Spider-Man didn't join them. He'd gone home to visit Aunt May.

"Mission report: We repelled the invading Atlanteans with zero casualties on our side. Only loss was a modified Falcon Jet and the equipment onboard."

"Recommend immediate dispatch of a S.W.O.R.D. recovery team to prevent classified tech from falling into the wrong hands," Rogers reported calmly.

"Mission acknowledged. Welcome back, Captain!" came the voice of Skynet from within the shuttle.

"The Commander is very pleased with your success. You are ordered to return to HQ and enjoy your well-earned leave."

"Oh hell yes! Finally some vacation!" Pietro cheered. "Mandarin, we're definitely trying that old liquor you were talking about."

"Haha! We're not stopping until one of us hits the floor!" Mandarin roared in laughter, delighted to finally have a proper drinking partner.

"Hey Steve, what's your plan for the break? I got that new video game you were eyeing," Bucky said, grinning.

"Heh…" Rogers patted Bucky on the shoulder, then smirked. "You couldn't beat me last time. You're not winning this time either."

The shuttle was filled with light-hearted laughter.

"Daisy, what about you?" Wanda turned to her.

"Me?" Daisy pointed at herself, a bit shy. After confirming Wanda really was asking, she replied, "I'm thinking of training. You know how unstable my powers are... sometimes they go off when I don't want them to, and vanish when I need them most."

Her vibration-based powers were like a stubborn child—always misbehaving at the worst times.

"I'll train with you," Wanda offered, smiling warmly.

Daisy's eyes lit up. After witnessing the sheer strength of the Sharp Blade Squad, she was desperate to grow stronger.

__

"Doom, you coming? Mandarin's busting out his prized liquor stash!" Pietro turned to the silent Doom.

"Me? Hmph! I'm not going," Doom replied with haughty disdain.

In truth, Doom had a complicated relationship with liquor—one part fear, one part fascination.

There was that one time when he'd seen Pietro and Mandarin drinking the stuff, clearly enjoying themselves. Something in him snapped, and he'd taken a sip.

And instantly, it was like entering another dimension.

His face turned red, his head spun, and his brilliant mind turned to mush. He vaguely remembered doing something... deeply embarrassing.

The memory still haunted him.

Yet, he couldn't help craving that buzz again.

"Mm-hmm!" Pietro looked at Doom with a knowing smirk. "Just like I thought."

Every time they invited Doom for a drink, he'd say no... and yet show up on time, right on schedule.

The problem? Doom had terrible alcohol tolerance. He got drunk fast—and loud.

"What are you looking at?" Doom growled, noticing Pietro's smug face.

"Nothing, nothing at all," Pietro teased. "But this time, we're not telling you when we start drinking!"

The others burst out laughing.

They'd completed another impossible mission.

And now, it was time to breathe.

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