The summit had concluded behind sealed mahogany doors and layers of diplomatic silence.
But within an hour, a press statement had been issued by the UN Secretariat. A carefully worded summary of the closed session was circulated globally, confirming Eden's recognition as a sovereign corporate entity, the licensing framework for its new defense platforms, and the denied sales to four nations on the basis of "unresolved trust and compliance breaches."
The press, having smelled blood, was already waiting on the marble steps by the time Markus emerged.
Flanked by Onyx, he descended slowly, unrushed, unbothered.
The crowd surged but held their line. No shouting this time.
Onyx spoke with her usual grace.
"Mr. Tenebris will answer some questions. Please maintain decorum."
She gestured.
Reuters.
"Mr. Tenebris," a reporter called, "how do you respond to claims that Eden's refusal to sell military drones to four G20 nations amounts to punitive discrimination on a geopolitical scale?"
Markus with a calm, almost weary smile.
"I believe nations must live by the principles they preach."
"I extended Eden's hand in good faith. It was met with duplicity, unlawful interference, and covert attempts to seize what was never theirs to take. I did not retaliate. I simply chose not to empower such behavior."
"Discipline is not discrimination. It is discretion."
Onyx pointed.
Associated Press.
"With Eden's satellite program entering international space, what safeguards are in place to prevent it being weaponized, intentionally or otherwise?"
Markus nodded with deliberate ease.
"A reasonable concern."
"Eden's orbital systems will be fully registered with international agencies. Their core functions are communication relay, atmospheric data, and global signal integrity will be publicly catalogued. Their defense capabilities, if any, are purely reactive."
"And I daresay…" he added, arching a brow, "the only ones likely to fear such a presence… are those who planned to misuse that same sky."
The Guardian.
"Mr. Tenebris, developing nations fear being left behind by Eden's dominance. Are there plans to make your medical and agricultural systems more accessible to regions without infrastructure?"
Markus turned slightly to meet the question with warmth.
"There are indeed."
"A forthcoming initiative will provide Eden Agronomic support and core medical technologies to such territories. Our mission was never conquest, it is contribution. We prosper by lifting others, not by stepping over them."
NHK World Japan.
"Is there a path toward future reconciliation with the nations whose contracts were denied today?"
"In principle, yes."
He glanced over the crowd.
"But reconciliation requires honesty. Trust must be rebuilt on foundations stronger than silence and signatures. Should the leadership of these nations demonstrate genuine change, Eden will review the matter ..fairly."
Onyx gestured again.
Bloomberg.
"Mr. Tenebris, Eden now spans defense, agriculture, logistics, medical, and software infrastructure. Do you intend to replace national governments altogether?"
Markus chuckled lightly. There was no arrogance in his tone, only patience.
"No."
"Governments exist to serve their people. When they fail in that task, others must fill the void, not to rule, but to repair."
"Eden will never be a replacement. It is a reminder."
Final question.
Le Figaro.
"Do you believe history will view you as a reformer… or a disruptor?"
Markus let the silence stretch before answering.
"I believe history… is written by those who endure."
"Time will judge. I need only do the work."
With that, he thanked the reporters and moved to his car.
The press release issued by the UN Secretariat only moments after the summit confirmed what the cameras couldn't show: Markus had not only refused to share Eden's proprietary systems, but had denied military access to major powers on grounds of anti democratic conduct. His stance was clear, confrontations will not be welcomed.
The phrasing was cold. Final. It didn't leave room for speculation.
Within minutes, headlines spun across every corner of the internet.
"Tenebris Declines Defense Contracts to China, France, Korea, and Japan.""UN Summit Acknowledges Eden's Sovereignty, Grants Satellite Rights.""Tenebris: 'I protect futures, not regimes.'"
In Washington, SHIELD's inner sanctum dimmed as a new level of clearance initiated.
Nick Fury stood at the center of the operations floor. Maria Hill leaned in over the briefing monitor, scrolling through real time transcriptions.
"He just outmaneuvered global powers and walked out a hero," she muttered.
"He didn't walk out," Fury replied. "He floated."
He turned to his comms team. "Initiate a low visibility observation directive. Eden's not a company anymore. It's a state. We don't poke it, we study it."
In Wakanda, the reaction was more contemplative.
Queen Ramonda called an emergency session of the Royal Science Council. Shuri, already pulling raw data from they could not hack Eden's systems. Therefore they contemplate on guesses on Raphael and Metatron models.
"These systems," she said, turning to the council, "aren't just weapons. I think they're networks. Integrated decision makers. Eden has battlefield AI, from the failure on hour hack attempts it is clear that rivals ours."
A General folded his arms. "Are they a threat?"
"I'm not sure," Shuri answered, then paused. "But they could become one. And we wouldn't know until it will be far too late."
The council sat in silence.
Then Queen Ramonda spoke softly. "Approach Eden in a diplomatic way. Let's asses their potential"
In the streets of Seoul, Tokyo, Paris, and Beijing, the public was less composed.
Protesters flooded city centers.
In Shibuya, handwritten banners read:
"My father died waiting for Eden's cure. Japan chose profit."
In Seoul, thousands marched with blank Eden Prayer holograms glowing red, the AI systems had locked them out after the summit.
"Markus gave us safety. Our leaders gave us surveillance."
In Paris, young voices cried out:
"They call him a tyrant. But we remember who turned the lights on during the floods!"
"We trusted our government. Eden never asked for trust, it earned it."
China's streets remained eerily quiet, but satellite heat maps showed masses of bodies gathering silently in central squares, holding up old Eden delivery boxes like icons.
The message was clear: they weren't loyal to their governments.
They were loyal to results.
And Markus had delivered.
Inside the Elijah Sinai, silence reigned as the vehicle glided through the streets like a black whisper.
Onyx reviewed the data cascading across her screen, her voice smooth as she summarized. "Seventy nations have recorded unprecedented approval spikes. France has already lost four cabinet members. Seoul is in full containment mode. The press is calling it the 'Red Shift', loyalty moving from state to system."
Markus stared out the window, unmoved by the chaos now orbiting his existence. Then, with the calm deliberation of a man selecting a chess piece from an already won board, he asked without turning, "Tell me, dear… where shall we build our home?"
Onyx didn't hesitate. "Greenland."
He glanced at her, a flicker of intrigue crossing his face.
"Minimal interference from central governments. Vast untapped landmass. Proximity to the Arctic for future geostrategic leverage. Nominal Danish oversight, but nothing substantial enough to pose a threat. And above all, a symbolic gesture, creating sovereignty in a place long treated as peripheral."
Markus gave a single nod.
The world didn't shift immediately, but thoughts did.
No orders were issued nor any wires tapped. What Markus deployed instead was far more elegant: a cascade of influence, precisely measured, rippling through the subconscious of decision makers, journalists, and bureaucrats alike. In Nuuk, administrators began to speak casually about the advantages of foreign innovation. In Copenhagen, ministers started outlining scenarios where Greenland's autonomy could attract Eden's attention. News anchors floated the idea on air as if it had emerged from domestic think tanks.
Within twenty four hours, the narrative felt inevitable.
Greenland, a forgotten flank of ice and opportunity, would be the stage upon which the future might be built.
And Markus would, of course, graciously accept the invitation when it came.
He had no interest in the coastal towns or aging infrastructure. He would go to the center of the island, where no city had ever existed, where the old world never reached. Among the ancient glaciers, beneath a sky unmarred by pollution or politics, a new city would rise.
Crafted from volcanic stone and carbon alloy, Arx Seraphim would be a city forged by Eden's will, climate controlled, self sustaining, and architected to echo the aesthetic of supremacy veiled in serenity.
Los Angeles. Stark Tower. Legal Conference Room.
Tony Stark stood in front of the panoramic glass wall of his tower, coffee in one hand, holographic blueprint of the Mark II armor projected in front of him. The day had started fine, minor arc reactor complications, another Senate hearing scheduled, but nothing unmanageable. That is, until the door opened and his lead legal advisor, Marcy Klein, walked in with the expression of a woman tasked with telling a lion his claws were dull.
She placed a leather folder on the desk. "We've hit a wall, Tony."
He turned halfway, raising an eyebrow. "Define 'wall,' and make sure it doesn't involve Congress or another subpoena."
Marcy didn't smile. "We tried registering the Mark II's core design architecture. The servo layout. The HUD interface. Even the targeting grid."
"And?" he asked, more annoyed than alarmed.
"Denied," she replied. "Every patent already exists."
Tony blinked. "What?"
She activated a projection. The Eden Industries logo filled the air, cold and metallic, followed by a string of patent IDs. "These filings are airtight. Eden holds exclusive global rights to all current iterations of bipedal exo frames, neural actuated control systems, and decentralized power routing in high density suits."
"That's impossible. I built this in a cave with a box of scraps!"
"Eden built theirs in silence, and filed everything before you even hit the prototype stage," she said. "It's not just about the armor. It's the entire operational ecosystem."
Tony's eyes narrowed. "You're saying my suit… legally belongs to Markus Tenebris?"
"Functionally, yes. We can't sell, license, or even officially name the suit without breaching at least six Eden held patents. And there's more: your own Stark weapons legacy patents are being slowly rendered obsolete. They've pre filed on AI armament logistics, reactive munitions, even next gen drone command trees."
Tony's face darkened. "Get Eden on the phone. I don't care if it's Markus himself or one of his choirboys. Start negotiating."
Nuuk, Greenland, Office of the Prime Minister
The letter was short. Formal. Written in Kalaallisut, Danish, and English.
"On behalf of the Self Government of Greenland, we extend a formal invitation to Eden Industries and its principal, Mr. Tenebris, to establish operations within the sovereign bounds of our nation. We welcome Eden's presence and contributions to sustainable development, innovation, and technological advancement. Our administrative offices stand ready to offer any support needed in any of our cities or identifying uninhabited regions suitable for long term settlement, research, and expansion."
It bore the signature of the Prime Minister and the seal of Greenland's Self Government Authority.
The letter was transmitted via encrypted channels to Eden's Central Tower in Geneva and issued a press release.
Copenhagen, Danish Ministry of Foreign Affairs
The response followed quickly.
"In accordance with the 2009 Act on Greenland Self Government, the Kingdom of Denmark recognizes Greenland's full authority to enter agreements concerning industrial, territorial, and technological development within its jurisdiction. The Danish Government confirms that it shall not interfere in any agreements entered into between Eden Industries and the Government of Greenland. Denmark asserts no regulatory, political, or logistical oversight over Eden's activities in Greenland."
It was crisp. Clean. And final.
Geneva, Eden Industries, Central Tower
Markus stood before a display showing the map of Greenland, the terrain rotating slowly in pale blue light. Onyx stood beside him, already coordinating satellite imaging.
He turned slightly as the transmission concluded.
"Prepare the statement," he said.
Within the hour, Eden released its official response:
"Eden Industries formally accepts the invitation from the Government of Greenland. In recognition of Greenland's sovereignty and in alignment with Eden's development protocols, a new, independent city will be constructed in the central uninhabited regions of the island. Eden will not disturb the existing settlements. Rather, we will build from the foundation upward, a city born from principle, precision, and purpose."
The name had already been chosen.
Arx Seraphim.
The Citadel of Seraphs.
New York, Eden Press Liaison Station
As Markus exited the Eden Industries HQ, questions swarmed from the press gallery. Onyx raised her hand to signal for calm, and within seconds, order returned.
"Mr. Tenebris," came the first voice, "how do you intend to construct an entire city in the middle of the Greenlandic interior?"
Markus offered the slightest nod, eyes half lidded in thought before he answered.
"With the same tools we've always used: design, discipline, and silence."
He paused, then added:
"We will be deploying Eden's new modular construction program, Nehemiah."
Cameras flashed. Reporters leaned in.
"Named after the architect of restoration, Nehemiah is a fully autonomous construction framework. A fleet of AI managed terrestrial units, excavators, haulers, scaffold riggers, and structural printers. All coordinated through encrypted swarm logic."
"Each unit operates under real time environmental adaptation protocols. They survey, excavate, assemble, and verify. All without the need for human labor on site. One city core, twelve weeks. Fully functional infrastructure in under four months."
A teaser appeared across Eden's official channels: a convoy of matte grey machines rolling silently across frozen tundra. Automated cranes unfolding. Roads traced by tireless diggers. Frames rising like bone and sinew guided by rhythm, not brute force.
NEHEMIAH: Sovereign Construction Protocol."Built for permanence."
By morning, global speculation exploded. Was this Eden's capital? Was Markus founding a nation?
Eden gave no further comment.
The swift relocation of Eden Industries to Greenland has sent shockwaves through the United States government. By the time U.S. legal departments had assessed the potential tax revenue implications, estimated to be in the hundreds of billions across Eden's diverse branches. Markus had already concluded his press conference.
In response, the White House issued a statement:
"Eden Industries will not be subjected to oversight by any U.S. organizations beyond those responsible for patents, income, and taxation."
Markus courteously declined this arrangement, providing substantial evidence of unauthorized surveillance and infiltration attempts by U.S. agencies:
S.H.I.E.L.D.: Documented attempts to monitor Eden's communications and personnel.
FBI: Apprehension of infiltrators identified as FBI agents within Eden's facilities.
These revelations ignited widespread ridicule across online platforms, with forums and social media users mocking the government's covert actions and subsequent exposure.
Eden's relocation has set a precedent, prompting major corporations, including Stark Industries, to consider similar moves. Facing governmental pressures and political interference, these companies are leveraging Eden's example to negotiate more favorable conditions, threatening to relocate their operations to jurisdictions with more stable and predictable business environments.
The potential exodus of such corporations poses a significant threat to the U.S. economy, with the prospect of substantial tax revenue losses and economic destabilization. This situation underscores the delicate balance governments must maintain in regulating influential multinational entities while fostering an environment conducive to innovation and economic growth.
Construction began within the week.
Four Nehemiah platforms were deployed to the heart of the frozen interior. Unlike their biblical namesake, these machines did not rebuild walls of stone, but entire city districts. Guardian Angels oversaw the safety of the site. Not a single unauthorized drone breached the perimeter. Not even the wind crossed without clearance.
Arx Seraphim's vision was unmistakable.
It would rise in the image of Heaven's fortress, staggered Gothic towers etched with seraphic sculptures, glowing stained glass domes, sweeping cathedral avenues, and fortified sanctuaries. Every corridor, every spire, every arch would whisper dominion, not over men, but over history. It would be the seat of a sovereign.
While the foundations of a city were laid into permafrost, events continued elsewhere.
Iron Man 2's plot had erupted quietly beneath the thunder of global shifts. Tony Stark, already under pressure from the U.S. Senate to surrender his armored suit designs, decided it was already time to meet with his savior and holder of the patents of his armor.
It didn't take long.
Markus agreed, calmly, with no pomp. The meeting would take place at his Gothic estate outside New York City. A towering manor carved in blackened stone, perched like a cathedral fortress above a silent stretch of woodland. The spires pierced the skyline like obsidian needles. Inside, soft golden chandeliers lit vaulted ceilings. Guardian Angels flanked every archway, every corridor, every gate, stoic and absolute.
Just as Markus reviewed final adjustments to the Arx Seraphim logistics stream, a message flickered across Onyx's display.
"An envoy from Wakanda seeks audience."
Markus nodded once.
"After Stark."
Outside, the rumble of rotors grew louder as Tony's private helicopter descended toward the landing terrace, its shadow briefly overtaking the great rose window of the central tower.
And the iron and marble doors of the estate… opened.
Markus' Estate, New York City
Tony adjusted the cuffs of his blazer, though it felt more like fidgeting than grooming. The Guardian Angels guiding them weren't just guards, they were zealots. Unflinching. Perfect. He caught a glimpse of one of them eyeing him.
Pepper leaned closer, whispering, "You alright?"
Tony gave a dry chuckle. "I feel like I'm about to meet the Pope... if the Pope could bench press a bull."
The comment drew a sharp scoff from one of the Angels. Just one. But it was enough to freeze the air. These men didn't speak. They didn't laugh. And above all, they didn't joke about Markus.
To them, he wasn't just a man.
He was their savior.
The gothic corridor opened into a vaulted chamber, like a cathedral carved from obsidian. High ceilings disappeared into darkness. Stone arches stretched above like ribs of a sleeping titan. The light was minimal, flickering from candle shaped wall sconces, casting soft glows across the floor of polished basalt.
Twelve statues stood evenly along the walls, nothing was wrong with them except they weren't statues. They were living Guardian Angels, motionless, armored, armed. Each held a weapon crafted by Eden Armaments, monstrous in form. A silent choir of sentinels.
At the center of the room stood the table.
And at the head of it, Markus.
He did not rise. He did not need to.
Tony approached with a polite smile, hand outstretched. "I don't know what they're feeding you, Tenebris, but I'd love to get the recipe. You're built like the final boss."
Markus stood with fluid grace. His height dwarfed Stark easily, and his build was nothing short of carved elegance, shoulders wide, chest broad, arms solid and coiled beneath a black three piece suit so perfectly tailored it made Italian fashion look off the rack. His blood red tie was the only splash of color, and his hair was tied back into a precise, regal ponytail. A short, aristocratic beard framed his jawline like an accent mark carved by lineage.
Markus did not shake Tony's hand.
Instead, he turned to Pepper and gently took her hand, placing a soft kiss against her knuckles.
"Miss Potts. Your grace humbles even the stones of this place."
Pepper blushed lightly. "Thank you... Mr. Tenebris."
"Markus will do," he replied smoothly.
Tony coughed. "So... do all your offices come with angel statues and a boss fight waiting at the end, or is that just the VIP suite?"
Markus smiled faintly. "You mock the aesthetic, yet step willingly into the temple. Bold."
Tony shrugged. "Better bold than boring."
He sat down, gesturing broadly. "So, tell me... these names of your products: Elijah, Gabriel, Azazel... Are you running a tech empire or a cathedral?"
Markus's eyes gleamed. "And you're the one who built an AI and named it J.A.R.V.I.S."
Touché.
Pepper chuckled softly. "He's always had a flair for the dramatic."
"I prefer divine precision," Markus replied. "Besides… what are corporations but modern pantheons? Only now, the angels carry drones instead of harps."
Tony leaned back, eyes scanning the ceiling. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to become a god."
Markus sipped from a crystal tumbler, the liquid inside deep crimson.
Tony grinned. "And the red wine completes the look."
Onyx interjected without humor. "This is not wine."
That killed the joke instantly.
Tony cleared his throat. "Right. Okay then."
He tried to pivot.
"So... the armor."
Markus steepled his fingers. "Yes. I own the design. The registration was filed six months before your cave escapades. Quite the coincidence."
Tony's brow twitched. "You mean to tell me I've been fighting Senate hearings and military panels over tech that you patented while I was building it from scraps?"
"Yes," Markus said simply.
Pepper, keeping the peace, leaned forward. "We're not here to fight over designs. We're hoping for a partnership, or at least a license to keep Tony operating. Privately. Safely."
Markus's gaze didn't move from Tony. "You may use it. You. And no one else."
Tony blinked. "So I can fly around, do my Iron Man thing.."
"You can wear what is yours in spirit, but not in letter. The suit will remain proprietary. You will not share it. You will not sell it. And you will not allow any government or entity to duplicate it."
His tone darkened, just slightly.
"Should you violate this... I will end the legacy of Iron Man before it begins."
Tony raised his hands. "Understood. No sharing. Just me."
Markus nodded once. "Good. That would be... wise."
Tony looked to Onyx, trying to break the tension. "You ever smile?"
She didn't even look at him. "I will smile when I attend your funeral."
Tony blinked, then laughed. "That was dark."
Markus raised an eyebrow. "Would you like to die by fire, blade, or memory erasure?"
The tone was calm. Measured. Almost bored.
But Tony heard the unspoken truth in it.
Pepper coughed, "And... on that note, thank you again, Mr. Tenebris, for rescuing Tony. We... owe you."
Markus inclined his head.
"You owe me nothing. I do not rescue men for favors. Only to prevent the world from losing something… amusing."
Tony grinned. "I'll take that as flattery."
"You may," Markus said.
And somehow, that made it worse.
Pepper glanced at the ceiling again, then at Tony.
"He really is the Pope."