MASTER OF MARVEL WORLD

Nate Locke's lungs burned as he panted, suppressing his ragged breathing while his fists clenched in determination. His heart pounded in his chest as if trying to escape the imminent clash. The summons had revealed something incredible: his system had just drawn not one, but two rare rituals—a double blessing in the form of two "ceremonies."

He couldn't help but think back to the days when he'd spent thousands on obscure upgrade materials just to impress a certain "Sister" he'd once admired from a comic series—back when he collected every novel, every comic, and even bought figurines of the legendary "Four Sisters." But now, the stakes were far higher. Calm your mind, Nate, he reminded himself. No matter what period the card draw represents, the chance of refusal is high…unless, perhaps, the state is special.

Deep in thought, Nate's concentration broke as he suddenly felt his arms go limp. Before him appeared a short-haired girl in a pristine white medical suit. Her delicate face was peaceful, her eyes closed in a state of deep sleep. She looked no more than eighteen or nineteen years old, yet there was an aura of tranquility and fragility about her that struck Nate immediately. In that instant, his racing heart began to calm. Just one glance had told him that these two rituals—this double summoning—had come from a time when fate had nearly forsaken her. Rumor had it that she had suffered an accident and fallen into a deep coma for three long years.

Carefully, as if cradling the most precious of treasures, Nate gently picked up the girl and laid her on a nearby bed. Every movement was deliberate and tender—he treated her as if she were a priceless relic rather than a summoned servant. Standing off to the side, Quinn Maxwell observed in silence, his expression serious as he felt the weight of responsibility in Nate's heart. Quinn had always known that Nate carried a burden: not only was he a superpowered force in a chaotic world, but he was also entrusted with the safety and well-being of those summoned to this realm.

Nate's eyes softened as he looked down at the girl. "Okay, the card draw is complete," he murmured to himself, a contented smile spreading across his face. "Truly, the European spirit of card drawing is on my side—I feel like the luckiest master in the world." He allowed himself a brief moment of joy, then turned to the sleeping girl. "First things first," he said, "you need to freshen up. I'll take you for a quick shower." His voice held both a command and a promise of care.

Taking a few steps forward, Nate suddenly halted. His gaze lifted, and his mind flashed with a possibility. In the corner of his eyes, emerging like a vision from his deepest recollections, was an elegant figure: an exquisite young woman with lustrous blond hair and a demeanor as brilliant as a full moon. For an instant, Nate's mind raced with the possibility that this could be the "war girl" mentioned in urban legends—someone who had once been captured and forced into servitude by a notorious crime lord, perhaps even by the brother of a major crime figure like Dieter Follett. The name "Violet Evergarden" reverberated in his thoughts—a name once whispered in hushed tones among those who knew of the lost heroines of war.

At the very moment Nate's inner monologue highlighted that name, the three-dimensional summoning interface before him began to change. The mysterious question mark that had hovered in place gradually transformed into a full name: "Violet Evergarden." A new golden star appeared behind the original three-star rating, and additional information streamed into Nate's mind: real name liberation, potential upgrade—Violet had been summoned as a follower from her childhood, destined to become one of the rarest and most powerful servants in the system.

The wave of consecutive card draws had just flipped the table on Nate's fortunes. "River, river—are you there? I need your help," came a call from Tony Stark, who had burst in with excitement. Tony's presence was always dramatic. He swung open the door and, for a split second, stood dumbfounded as he witnessed the scene before him: Nate, with a gentle smile, was tenderly pressing on the head of a grimy little girl who lay on the bed. The girl was dressed simply, her clothes tattered, and she exuded an air of vulnerability that belied her inherent potential.

"Oh my God! I only stayed in the lab for a few days and now you're actually kidnapping a girl?" Tony shouted, rushing over and shoving Nate back with a force that nearly sent him tumbling. "Do you realize that in this country, crimes against minors are unforgivable?"

Before Tony's finger could reach out to seize Nate, the dirty little girl stirred abruptly. In a flash, she sprang up like a wildcat, her pale, slender fingers darting out with uncanny speed. In one breathtaking moment, her agile strike nearly pierced Tony's head—so precise and instinctive was her attack.

"Stop it!" Tony roared, his voice cracking with a mix of shock and anger. At the same time, Nate's mental command resonated in the air. Quinn Maxwell's own thoughts joined in, reinforcing the command. Tony stepped back, his face drained of color, as he realized that the girl possessed a ferocity and lethal precision that belied her frail appearance.

"She—what kind of monster is she?" Tony managed to stammer, his voice trembling as he stared at the girl suspended in mid-air. The sheer speed of her movements, combined with the cold, emotionless determination in her eyes, struck him as utterly alien. Tony had encountered many foes, but never had he seen someone attack with such calculated aggression without even a hint of emotion.

Nate, however, stepped forward calmly, gently cradling the girl as if to soothe her. "She was sent here by my colleague—a helper from our ranks," he explained quietly. "She's a special asset taken from the battlefield. Right now, she obeys orders without question, but I promise I will work to change her condition." His tone was both apologetic and resolute, as if he fully accepted the responsibility of transforming this raw weapon into a true servant rather than a mindless killer.

Tony's voice cut in sharply, "So you're telling me you're leaving her here in my villa? She nearly killed me just now!" Despite his brash exterior, Tony—who was not afraid of death—could not ignore the gravity of nearly being mortally wounded. "I'm a billionaire, yes, but I won't tolerate anyone coming after me like that!"

Nate's eyes softened as he squeezed the girl's hand a little tighter. "I'm sorry, Tony. We will move her out of here immediately and ensure no further trouble comes your way." His words were laced with both empathy and determination. Tony, still reeling from the near-fatal encounter, scanned the room for another summoned follower. "What about this one?" he asked, nodding toward another figure lying quietly on the bed. "Is she also a helper sent by your team? Do you Chaldeans pick up people from everywhere and then just send them to your realm?"

Nate nodded, his expression serious. "Yes, but she's in a different condition. She was involved in a terrible accident and is now unconscious, almost in a vegetative state." His voice carried a tinge of regret—this was not the ideal state for a follower, yet it was a reality he had to accept. "I'm still figuring out the exact nature of the relationship between master and follower, but one thing is certain: I have a responsibility to protect these individuals, regardless of how they arrive in our world."

Tony shook his head, spreading his hands in a gesture of exasperation. "So you're telling me you have a girl who might go berserk at any moment and another who's basically comatose—and you're planning to run them around outside?" His tone was incredulous yet tinged with amusement. "Okay, I'm lucky you, Nate. I'll arrange for some top-notch doctors and nurses to keep an eye on them. But mark my words: if either of them shows any aggressive behavior, I'll kick you out, understand?"

Despite having only known each other for a short while, Tony and Nate had developed a rapport built on mutual respect and the shared chaos of their lives. Nate gave a small, reassuring smile. "Of course. Violet, as I've decided to call her, is truly exceptional. And thanks to you pushing me out of my comfort zone earlier, I discovered something incredible. By the way, did you say you found something new—the element your father left behind?"

Tony's eyes widened in surprise. "You know about that? But you never told me—I've been waiting for a video explanation for days!" He laughed, the tension easing from his features. "It seems you always have a reason for everything. Now, come on and help me out—I need to build a particle pair collision device to synthesize new elements."

Over the past six days, Tony had begun to feel a subtle thaw in the emotions he had long suppressed. The constant pressure, the endless experiments in his lab, and the isolation from the world had taken their toll. Yet tonight, the bizarre summoning incidents and the unexpected appearance of these "helpers" seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders.

"Let Quinn handle some of the tech, and I'll get Violet ready for a bath," Nate said as he waved a hand in the direction of the summoned girl. Tony, still smarting from the earlier encounter, grumbled but eventually agreed. "Fine, but if she even flinches, I'm calling in my security team. I'm not about to let you risk my life with some unpredictable kid."

As more followers were summoned and the messy plot thickened, Tony began to realize he needed a stable base—a headquarters of his own where he could manage these unpredictable assets. Even as he continued to juggle his research on his father's relic and the looming mystery of palladium poisoning, he knew that every summoned follower, every wild card in the card-drawing system, was part of a greater narrative that only grew more convoluted with each passing day.

Nate paused for a moment, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. In this strange convergence of superpowers, relics, and unpredictable summoning events, he was not just an observer. He was a master responsible for guiding his followers—no matter how chaotic or dangerous they might be—toward a future that was as uncertain as it was full of potential. The battlefield of life was messy and unpredictable, yet every piece, every card drawn from the system, could tip the balance in favor of hope or despair.

Looking down at Violet—the beautiful, bruised, and enigmatic girl with dazzling sky-blue eyes—Nate felt both awe and determination. "Violet," he whispered softly, "I promise I'll change you. You're not just a weapon that follows orders—you deserve a chance at a life beyond this battlefield." Her eyes, though still and unreadable, seemed to hold the promise of a future beyond pain and violence.

Tony, standing not far behind with a mix of indignation and reluctant admiration, finally exhaled, "I may be a genius, a billionaire, and even Iron Man, but I'm starting to realize that I need more than just tech to hold this world together. I need people who can transform chaos into order." His voice, rough with emotion, echoed in the lab as he scanned the room for more clues about the mysterious relics and the new elements of destiny his father had left behind.

As the night deepened, the clamor of the outside world faded into a distant murmur. In the safe haven of Tony's villa and under the watchful eyes of high-tech surveillance systems, Nate Locke, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, and even a few of their newly summoned followers gathered in quiet conference. They discussed plans to secure medical care for the volatile Violet and to analyze the strange relics that had been handed down from Howard Stark—a legacy that promised both answers and further mysteries.

Nate's inner voice, usually calm and detached, now buzzed with a fierce resolve. "The battlefield is messy," he mused silently. "But it is here, in the midst of chaos, that we must forge our destiny. Every follower, every summoned card, every relic—each is a part of the grand tapestry of our future. And though the path may be fraught with peril and unpredictability, we are here to change it for the better."

Quinn Maxwell nodded in agreement through their telepathic link. "We'll handle whatever comes our way, Nate. Our strength lies not only in our powers but in our commitment to protect and improve this world."

Tony, whose temper had finally cooled, added with a wry smile, "And if any of you misbehave, remember: I'm not just Iron Man—I'm also the CEO of Stark Industries now. So behave yourselves, or you'll be hearing from me!"

Laughter broke out among them, a momentary reprieve from the heavy responsibilities of leadership and legacy. In that fleeting moment, as the soft glow of computer screens and the hum of high-tech equipment filled the room, they understood that even amidst the chaos of battle, camaraderie and hope could still shine through.

And so, as the night gave way to the first light of dawn, Nate Locke prepared to step forward into a new day—a day where the messy battlefield of life, with all its unpredictable twists and explosive conflicts, would serve as both a proving ground and a canvas upon which he and his allies could paint a future defined by courage, compassion, and the relentless pursuit of justice.