Morning sunlight filtered through the window and landed across Noah Vale's bedside.
His alarm rang.
Noah's eyes snapped open instantly. He reached over and silenced it with one hand.
The exhaustion from the night before was gone.
After several more hours of intense training, his constitution had finally reached 1.5.
That number meant something significant—every one of his core attributes had now surpassed the natural limits of the human body.
The system interface appeared in his mind.
Name: Noah ValeLifespan: 18 / 200Strength: 1.5 + 0.2Constitution: 1.5Mental Focus: 1.5Charisma: 1.4Unassigned Attribute Points: 0.3
Crossing the threshold had triggered another unexpected benefit.
His estimated lifespan had jumped dramatically.
Two hundred years.
Give or take a little, that was long enough to outlive entire generations.
Noah flexed his fingers thoughtfully.
Another change had appeared in the system feedback as well.
Previously, his training reports always mentioned the risk of long-term damage caused by extreme physical strain.
Now those warnings were gone.
His body could apparently endure the stress without accumulating permanent injuries.
In other words—
As long as he kept pushing his limits, improvement was only a matter of time.
Noah got out of bed and stretched before heading to the bathroom to wash up.
Afterward, he opened the refrigerator and grabbed something to eat.
Today he had more important things to deal with than school.
Specifically, the small issue of laundering a large pile of stolen money.
As for the school field trip to Oscorp that had been scheduled?
He didn't even hesitate.
Skipping class was the obvious choice.
School could wait.
Right now, strength—and money—mattered more.
As Noah ate, he suddenly frowned.
"Huh."
He placed a hand against his stomach.
A strange sense of fullness had already set in.
"That's weird."
Normally, the heavy training routine left him constantly hungry. Over the past few days, his appetite had grown larger and larger.
But today—
He felt full after eating barely half his usual portion.
Noah studied the unfinished food in his hand.
"Maybe my metabolism changed again."
His best guess was that his improved constitution had made his body more efficient at processing nutrients.
If that was true, he'd probably need less food overall.
After finishing the remaining bites, Noah returned the leftovers to the refrigerator and grabbed his coat.
Time to leave.
At the same time, students at Midtown High School were boarding buses in the parking lot.
"Where's Noah?" Mr. James asked, scanning the seats.
As expected, the familiar face was missing.
He looked toward one of the students sitting near the window.
"Peter, do you know where Noah is?"
Peter Parker shook his head helplessly.
"No idea, sir."
Mr. James sighed.
After confirming Noah wasn't there, he gave up.
"Alright, everyone sit down. We're leaving for Oscorp."
The bus engine rumbled to life, and moments later the vehicles pulled away from the school.
Meanwhile, Noah had already reached the rocky clearing outside the city where he had hidden the stolen money.
He crouched beside the pile of stones and casually lifted aside a boulder weighing nearly half a ton.
Underneath was the small cavity where he had stashed the loot.
Cash.
Gold.
Various valuables.
Opening the briefcase he had brought with him, Noah began sorting through the contents.
Since he wasn't in a rush, he took his time choosing what to take.
In the end, he removed part of the cash and several gold bars.
The rest remained hidden.
Once he finished, he replaced the stone cover exactly as it had been before.
Then he examined the gold bars in his hands.
Each bar still carried the bank's identification stamp.
That wouldn't do.
Noah tightened his grip.
With a sudden burst of strength, the metal began to deform.
Gold bent like clay in his hands.
One bar warped.
Then another.
Within seconds, the originally stamped bars had been crushed together into a single irregular lump of gold.
No serial numbers.
No markings.
Just a heavy golden sphere.
Noah tossed the lump into the briefcase beside the cash.
Then he closed the lid and headed back toward the city.
His destination—
Lansher Bank.
Anyone with experience in New York's underworld knew about this place.
The bank had a powerful organization behind it: the Mutant Brotherhood.
In practice, the institution functioned almost like a neutral ground for criminals.
Deposit your money here, pay a fifteen percent processing fee, and within a few days the remaining eighty-five percent would return to you through legitimate channels—lottery winnings, gambling payouts, investment returns, and other "legal" explanations.
As for the original dirty money?
It quietly vanished.
Because of the Brotherhood's influence, government authorities generally avoided interfering with the bank unless something truly outrageous happened.
Noah walked inside, carrying the briefcase calmly.
Three service counters were open, each occupied by customers.
He chose the line with the fewest people and waited.
A few minutes later, his turn arrived.
Noah stepped up to the counter and placed the briefcase on the desk.
In a low voice, he said, "I need an anonymous account. Cleaning service."
The young bank employee looked up.
For a moment she seemed distracted by Noah's striking appearance.
Then understanding flashed across her face.
"Of course," she said with a professional smile.
"Please provide any bank card number you'd like the processed funds transferred to. The remaining balance will be deposited within one to three business days."
Noah nodded and reached into his pocket.
Before he could pull out his card—
His enhanced hearing caught something.
Fast footsteps.
A group of people entering the building.
Then—
"Bank robbery! Everyone on the floor right now!" a voice shouted. "Move and I start shooting!"
The command echoed through the lobby.
People screamed.
Customers dropped to the ground.
Employees froze.
Noah blinked.
For several seconds, he just stood there.
Seriously?
Another bank robbery?
And this time—
Of all places—
They chose this bank?
Did these guys have any idea where they were?
Were they suicidal?
He looked at the terrified clerk in front of him.
"…Is this a training drill?" Noah asked.
Her pale expression gave him the answer.
No.
These were just idiots.
"Hey! What are you standing there for?" a robber barked behind him.
A submachine gun pressed into Noah's back.
"Hands on your head! Open the suitcase!"
Noah glanced at the security cameras mounted around the lobby.
Every step he'd taken since entering the bank had already been recorded.
Starting a fight now would only cause trouble later.
With a silent sigh, Noah raised his hands and stepped aside.
The robber yanked open the briefcase.
Inside—
Stacks of cash.
And the massive gold sphere.
The man's eyes widened.
"Boss! Come look at this!" he shouted. "This guy's loaded!"
Noah rolled his eyes.
Completely unfazed.
Then he calmly walked over to join the other hostages sitting on the floor.
For now—
Keeping a low profile seemed like the best option.