It was the fifth day of his enrollment.

Malrick stood on the stage at Columbia University, where graduation ceremonies were typically held. The morning sun streamed gently into the otherwise empty auditorium.

The university's principal, dressed in formal academic regalia, stood proudly beside him. With a warm smile, he moved the tassel on Malrick's cap to the other side, then extended his hand.

"Congratulations on your graduation, Malrick. Don't forget to visit your alma mater often. I believe that $20 million scholarship fund you donated yesterday will inspire and support many brilliant minds."

Malrick returned the smile and shook his hand firmly. "Thank you, Principal. I'll be back next year—maybe I'll donate a building next time."

A ripple of laughter and applause broke out from the professors seated nearby. Just yesterday morning, they had been awed by Malrick's insight across multiple fields. By that evening, they'd received substantial research grants from his foundation.

With all mandatory courses miraculously completed and credits earned overnight, Malrick's fast-track journey to graduation had launched and landed like a hypersonic aircraft.

Their applause was sincere, and more than one professor had the urge to throw their arms around Malrick's leg to keep him from leaving.

As a classical symphony swelled in the background, the sense of ceremony filled the small stage.

In the sea of burgundy velvet seats below, only three familiar faces sat in the front row—Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, and Shirley.

Pepper clapped politely, caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement. She had sent Malrick to college to experience life—friendship, heartbreak, maybe even a dorm party or two.

But Malrick, while nodding in agreement, had quietly rewritten the rules. He enrolled, raced through the curriculum, and published a graduation thesis within days. That very morning, it appeared in a leading academic journal.

It was impressive. Too impressive.

The only thing missing was... the experience.

Tony, sitting beside her, shook his head as he clapped. He thought about all the missed opportunities—parties, romantic chaos, flirtations in the library.

"So many pretty girls," he thought with a sigh, "and not a single chance taken."

Sherry, however, applauded with glowing pride. To her, Malrick was becoming more extraordinary by the day.

Back on stage, Malrick posed with the Principal for a ceremonial photo, holding his diploma. Then came a round of hugs from the faculty. Despite only knowing him for 24 hours, the professors behaved as if they were parting with a treasured protégé of four years.

They nodded with misty eyes and tight-lipped smiles, like parents at a bittersweet farewell.

Malrick humored their sentimental display, posed for a few more pictures, then exited the auditorium in his gown with his family at his side.

For most graduates, such a moment would bring reflection and uncertainty.

But Malrick felt none of that. He hadn't even seen half the campus. There was no nostalgia to be had.

Still, Pepper couldn't help but ask, "Now that you're done with school and Natasha's running the company, what's next?"

"You're not planning to just hang around the house doing nothing, are you?"

Malrick shrugged. "I've still got Earth to protect. Can't exactly clock out."

"Protect Earth from what? From Tony? Or from yourself?" Pepper gave him a pointed look.

To her, most of the so-called "world-threatening events" usually started with these two—Malrick and Tony—doing something reckless.

"Hey, it's not like we're trying to cause trouble," Malrick said, defensive.

Tony backed him up. "Exactly. We're protecting the planet—just… unconventionally."

Malrick grinned and added, "Though, Tony does seem to be the root cause most of the time."

Pepper snorted. "That sounds about right."

"Traitor," Tony muttered under his breath.

Malrick stopped walking, pointing toward the campus entrance. "Well, the trouble you caused is here again. And guess what? I get to clean it up—again."

Ahead of them, standing just beyond the gates, were two young figures emerging from the morning haze—Wanda and Pietro Maximoff.

They'd clearly been waiting.

As they stepped out from beneath the archway, their silhouettes sharpened in the sunlight. The shadows behind them stretched like twin blades.

Tony instantly sensed tension in the air. He narrowed his eyes, studying the pair.

The young man and woman wore casual jeans and short-sleeved shirts—his in sky blue, hers in deep crimson. Their expressions were cold, their gazes locked straight on Tony.

Malrick leaned over slightly. "Brother and sister. From Sokovia. When they were ten, their home was hit by a missile—one stamped with the Stark Industries logo. Their parents didn't survive. Later, they were recruited by HYDRA."

Tony's jaw clenched.

Even though Obadiah had secretly trafficked Stark weapons, Tony still felt a deep, personal responsibility. He had built those weapons. And people had died because of them.

Hands now out of his pockets, Tony stopped walking and waited, ready for whatever came next—whether a punch, a scream, or a bitter confrontation.

Malrick, Pepper, and Sherry stood at his side.

The twins drew closer.

Wanda's pale skin shimmered like glass under the sun, her beauty edged with danger. Pietro, tall and sharp, looked like a dormant storm.

Their eyes never left Tony.

There was pain in their expressions, but it wasn't blind rage—it was a quiet, long-harbored resentment, worn like armor.

Three meters away, they came to a stop.

Under the watchful gaze of Malrick and the others, Wanda reached into the side pocket of her jeans.

Tony instinctively tensed.

He expected a blade, or a pistol.

But instead, she pulled out a sleek black card with gold trim—a Citibank Ultima Black Card.

Tony blinked. "...What?"

---

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