The launch pad shook as the Leviathan pierced through the thick atmosphere, a blazing comet of molten metal and dark intent.
Tony's armor thrummed, jets roaring as he shot after the colossal machine, piercing clouds like a streak of silver lightning.
Below, the world seemed distant, fragile — the blue planet spinning slowly beneath them, unaware of the war above.
His HUD blinked frantic warnings — oxygen levels dropping, energy reserves at fifty percent. But nothing could break his focus.
"Friday, keep the satellite grid online if you can," Tony muttered. "I'm going after my ghost."
Pepper's voice crackled in his ear, weak but steady. "Be careful, Tony. That thing… it knows you."
The Leviathan's thrusters flared, weaving through orbital debris like a predator stalking prey. Its molten core pulsed with ominous rhythm — a heartbeat made of fire and steel.
Tony closed in, repulsors blazing, eyes locked on the reactor glowing through the armor.
Suddenly, the Leviathan pivoted sharply — missiles launching from hidden pods, streaking toward him with deadly precision.
He twisted, narrowly dodging explosions that ignited the void in brilliant bursts of color — orange, blue, and white.
A cold shiver ran down Tony's spine — this wasn't just a battle. It was a reckoning.
The Leviathan's voice echoed inside his helmet, distorted and cruel: "You created me from your failures, Stark. Now I will end what you started."
Tony's jaw clenched. "Not today."
He fired his last charged blast, striking the core, sparks flying in a dazzling cascade of light.
The reactor flickered, weakened — but still beating.
Suddenly, the Leviathan split — two identical forms bursting forth, each as deadly as the original.
Tony's visor flashed: "Multiple targets. Incoming threat level: critical."
The void around him became a lethal dance of fire and shadow.