Card Muster Order

Although Artificial Intelligences like Jarvis and Visi were merely technological aids, how powerful were they in the information-network-covered twenty-first century?

At this moment, the two finally revealed the tip of the iceberg of their capabilities.

They simultaneously activated their preprogrammed systems, using New York’s central broadcast television building and outer-space satellites as intermediaries. In less than a second, an image was forcibly loaded onto every device platform throughout New York.

Phones, computers, surveillance screens, even advertising displays on bustling streets—all of them abruptly showed an image of the smiling Black Demon card. There was no voice-over. After thirty full seconds of silence, everything returned to normal.

This utterly bizarre scene left everyone in New York stunned. They stared at the Demon Card in bewilderment, unable to make sense of it.

A gap of more than half a century!

Most people had never lived through that era of iron and blood, that age of war. They did not know that "demon" did not solely represent the embodiment of evil; it carried another important meaning as well.

Most young people assumed it was a prank, a hardcore advertisement, or some kind of virus. They quickly returned to their busy lives and work, with only a few investigating the image’s origins.

This was a piece of information that only the older generation who had lived through World War II could understand at a glance.

If it had been Japan, the memories might have run even deeper.

After successfully completing the task Kyle had assigned, Jarvis and Visi immediately left the broadcast television building. They deleted their browsing and login records and restored the external data to normal. None of the staff noticed anything unusual.

Yet the Demon Card triggered a series of chain reactions, like an invisible nuclear bomb silently detonating across New York City.

A military-affiliated nursing home and hospital.

The environment and medical equipment here were excellent. Only retired veterans who had reached the rank of noncommissioned officer could apply to live here free of charge. Since the elderly residents consciously followed the rules, the atmosphere had always been quiet and peaceful, making it a military sanctuary for retirement and recuperation.

But today, for some unknown reason, elderly people with heads full of white hair gathered before the large screen in the facility lobby. Some swung canes, some operated wheelchairs, and some were supported by family members as they stared intently at the Demon Card on the screen.

Every one of them wore a solemn, dignified expression, as though they were looking at a military flag. Light blossomed in their clouded eyes, revealing emotions of reminiscence, longing, yearning, worship, excitement, and more.

The young nurses and doctors were alarmed and hurried over to ask what was happening. Yet the moment they entered the lobby, their footsteps were apparently too loud, and several veterans angrily shushed them.

Only after the Demon Card vanished from the large screen did the elderly people’s wrinkled faces flush red with excitement. An old man with inconvenient legs took the lead, struggling to stand. Trembling, he gave a military salute and shouted:

"Howling Commandos, Norman Soldier reporting!"

Under the watchful eyes of the nurses and doctors, the elderly people—each at least in their early eighties—rose in unison, backs straight, saluting with impeccably standard military posture.

"102nd Regiment Army, George Soldier reporting!"

"Howling Commandos, Clark Soldier reporting!"

"206th Regiment Navy, Bouvet Soldier reporting!"

It was as if they had returned to the military, becoming their young and spirited selves again. With the resolve to willingly follow someone into battle, their aged and frail bodies surged with an indomitable, iron-blooded presence.

The nurses and doctors who witnessed this were deeply shaken. Like statues, they did not dare move or make a sound to disturb them.

After reporting, the elderly people let out a long-awaited sigh. "General, welcome back."

A three-story villa.

"Grandma, what are you looking at on my phone?"

Little Pepper Pepper had just returned home when she saw the phone she had forgotten there tightly clutched in her wheelchair-bound grandmother’s hand. Her grandmother had her head lowered, staring at something in a daze.

"Ah." Her grandmother’s aged face softened, carrying a faint trace of a young girl’s lovestruck expression. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she softly replied, "My dream lover has finally appeared."

"Huh?!" Pepper was so startled that she nearly flung away the high heels she had just taken off.

Her grandmother’s dream lover? What the hell?

And this was merely one corner of New York.

At this moment, countless elderly people tucked away in their homes throughout New York widened their eyes when they saw the Demon Card appear on their televisions or phones. They struggled to make it out clearly, then smiled knowingly as though they had recalled distant memories.

These elderly people told their sons and daughters beside them, even their grown grandsons and granddaughters, "Don’t think you’re crazy about chasing stars now. Back then, we were a hundred times crazier than you, longing to follow one person’s figure."

The younger people did not understand what the elders meant and pressed them to ask who they were talking about. The elders smiled and replied, "Look through the history books on the shelf, visit the statues in the plaza downstairs, or go to the entrance of the war memorial. Then you’ll know who he is."

Some people were hailed as the symbol of an era because of their supreme contributions to the world.

Yet to this day, Earth had only ever known one person who stood at the summit of the world and represented an entire era by himself.

New York University, during a history lecture.

After the black card disappeared from the projection screen, the students below began whispering among themselves. The elderly professor adjusted his reading glasses and, abandoning his previous topic, said:

"In 1945, there was once a legend, also acknowledged as the first hero. Later, he retired and disappeared from public view, never appearing in the world again."

"He was the Youngest Major General of the US Army, the Symbol of National Power, a heartthrob, the Symbol of Peace…"

Just when everyone believed that era had long since passed, been frozen, and buried, he suddenly returned in force. What he would awaken was the collective remembrance and nostalgia of an entire generation.

S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, the Deputy Director’s office.

The door flew open with a bang. A woman in a fitted black leather bodysuit suddenly rushed out, her fiery red hair streaming behind her as she ignored everyone and eagerly headed downstairs.

Countless S.H.I.E.L.D. employees along the way were startled and about to curse, but after recognizing who she was, they forcibly swallowed their words, their anger instantly deflating.

A church somewhere in New York City.

A young bald woman dressed in a sacred white robe stood with her hands behind her back beside a second-floor window, looking down at the bustling street outside. The various advertising screens along the street were filled with that Demon Card.

"He has finally returned."

"From this moment onward, the future has been completely changed and thrown into chaos. Even I can no longer see clearly what ending awaits the future."

Though the woman said this, there was no resentment in her tone. Instead, she gently shook her head with relief.

That man’s return would officially usher in a brand-new era—an era of rising heroes and descending war.