Outside the bank, Police Commissioner George Hale stood in the middle of a growing storm.
Sirens wailed across the block. Patrol cars, SWAT vans, and news vehicles crowded the street. Reporters pressed against the barricades while helicopters circled overhead.
Inside the building were hostages.
And armed robbers.
George faced two choices.
He could agree to the criminals' demands and allow them to leave, ensuring the hostages survived. Or he could order a full assault and risk casualties in the process.
Neither option was good.
If he negotiated, it would look like the NYPD had caved to criminals.
If he stormed the building and people died, the backlash would be even worse.
Personally, George preferred negotiation. Saving the hostages mattered more than saving face.
Besides, he knew exactly whose money was stored in that bank.
Even if the robbers escaped today, their lives wouldn't last long once the bank's real owners started asking questions.
Unfortunately, George's superiors didn't see it that way.
The voice on the phone had been very clear.
No concessions.
No deals.
Take a hard line.
George spent several tense minutes weighing the decision.
Before he could make the call—
Gunfire erupted from inside the bank.
George's heart nearly stopped.
The robbers had already destroyed the interior cameras earlier, so the police had no way of seeing what was happening inside. To George, it sounded like the criminals had finally lost patience.
The negotiation specialist who had just arrived quickly grabbed a loudspeaker.
"Everyone inside the bank, listen carefully," he called out. "We're preparing your demands. Do not harm the hostages. We can talk this through."
Inside the lobby, Noah Vale sat quietly on a chair.
His clothes were soaked with blood.
He listened to the echo of the loudspeaker while the bank clerk finished counting the cash from his suitcase. Once the money was officially deposited, it would become part of the bank's system.
After that, whatever had happened inside the bank would have nothing to do with him.
The clerk finished entering the amount.
Noah exhaled in relief.
He wiped a streak of blood from his cheek, then walked to the restroom sink and rinsed the blood off his hands.
A moment later, he pushed open the bank's front doors and stepped outside.
Dozens of police officers immediately turned toward him.
The crowd had been waiting anxiously for someone—anyone—to come out.
But the person who stepped through the door was the same Asian young man they had seen earlier.
Except now, his once clean black-and-white plaid shirt was drenched in blood.
From head to toe, he looked like someone who had just walked out of a battlefield.
George felt his stomach drop.
His first thought was that the robbers had executed the hostages.
Before he could react, Noah calmly raised the phone he had been holding.
"Officer," Noah said into it, his voice steady. "You can relax. The robbers are all dead."
George blinked.
"…What?"
"You guys were taking too long," Noah continued casually. "So I handled it. You can come inside and clean things up."
The officers around George stared at the radio in stunned silence.
"You… handled it?" someone repeated.
"Most of them," Noah clarified. "One of them got shot earlier and couldn't fight anymore, so I left him alone."
He tossed the phone aside and began walking toward the police line.
As he approached, the smell hit them.
Blood.
Several officers instinctively frowned.
George stepped forward to meet him.
A pair of officers rushed over to help support Noah, but he waved them off.
"No need," he said calmly. "I'm not injured."
Which was true.
Earlier, Noah had worried that his body might not withstand the force of his own strength. But just before the fight began, he had quietly adjusted his system attributes, shifting more resilience into his physical condition.
Now his strength and durability were balanced.
Inside his mind, the system quietly displayed his current status.
Name: Noah ValeAge: 18Estimated Lifespan: 400 years
Strength: 1.7Condition: 1.7Mental Processing: 1.5Charisma: 1.4
Unassigned Attribute Points: 0.1
Inside the bank, officers who had rushed in to secure the scene suddenly shouted.
"Holy—!"
"What the hell?!"
"Oh my God…"
George frowned at the outbursts.
They were acting like rookies.
He stepped inside the building to see for himself.
Then he stopped cold.
Bodies lay scattered across the marble floor.
One man's chest had been torn open.
Three others had collapsed with crushed skulls. Another corpse lay split nearly in half.
Blood covered the walls, the floor, and parts of the ceiling.
Fragments of bone and tissue were scattered everywhere.
In the far corner, the surviving hostages huddled together in shock.
George slowly backed out of the bank.
His face had gone pale.
"Seal the building," he ordered immediately. "No reporters inside. Not one."
After issuing the order, he turned back toward Noah.
His expression was serious.
"Those men in there… you're saying you killed them?"
George hesitated before asking the next question.
"…Are you a mutant?"
"No," Noah replied without hesitation. "I'm just someone who likes working out."
George stared at him.
"You're joking. What kind of 'fitness enthusiast' can tear a man in half?"
Noah raised an eyebrow.
"Commissioner, I'm the victim here," he said evenly. "Don't you think that tone is a little aggressive?"
He shrugged slightly.
"If someone's life is in danger, self-defense laws are pretty clear. Even if I'd turned them into ground meat, it would still be justified."
George opened his mouth—
Then closed it again.
Technically, Noah was right.
From what they could tell so far, he had no connection to the robbery. And everything pointed to a case of extreme self-defense.
At most, the police could question him and run a medical check.
They couldn't detain him indefinitely.
Noah sat on a nearby chair, resting his elbows on his knees while he contemplated how absurdly unlucky his day had become.
Meanwhile, the reporters outside had completely lost their patience.
The moment Noah appeared, they surged forward like a tidal wave.
Microphones and cameras filled the air around him.
Noah looked at the crowd and offered a polite smile.
"Could we do this one at a time?" he said. "I don't think I can answer everyone at once."
A reporter pushed forward.
"I'm from the Daily Bugle. Can you explain what happened inside the bank? Why did you come out covered in blood?"
Noah sighed.
"All the blood belongs to the robbers," he explained. "Things got pretty dangerous inside. They were threatening people, and I didn't really have a choice but to fight back."
He paused, adopting a modest expression.
"It was… a close call."
The reporter blinked.
"You're saying you killed all of them?"
"Yes."
"And walked out unharmed?"
"Yes."
The crowd fell silent.
"It was very risky," Noah added quickly. "If I'd made one mistake, I probably would've been turned into Swiss cheese."
Another reporter raised a hand.
"Are you a mutant?"
"No," Noah said again.
"I'm human. I just work out a lot."
The reporter stared at him.
"You're telling us an ordinary human being can defeat several armed robbers alone… with fitness?"
"Of course," Noah replied seriously. "With the right training methods, anyone can reach this level."
George groaned internally.
He stepped forward and blocked the reporters with practiced political calm.
"That's enough questions for now," he announced. "The witness will be giving an official statement and undergoing a medical evaluation."
Several officers quickly escorted Noah away before the reporters could ask anything else.
Across the city, inside a hospital in Midtown Manhattan, Matthew lay lazily in a hospital bed.
The room was quiet.
But his enhanced hearing picked up footsteps approaching down the hallway.
Amy.
He frowned slightly.
Why is she coming back?
The door swung open.
Amy stepped inside, looking excited.
"Hey, Matt!" she said. "We found the guy from yesterday!"
Matthew blinked.
"Yesterday?"
"The one from that sketch your friend drew—the ridiculously handsome guy."
She grinned.
"I'm telling you, he looks even better in real life."
Matthew froze.
That description triggered an immediate memory.
The same man who had calmly shot both his arms and legs.
"…Where did you see him?" Matthew asked carefully.
"On TV!"
Matthew stared at her.
"…On TV?"
"Yeah!" Amy said enthusiastically. "Apparently he just single-handedly wiped out a whole gang of bank robbers."
Matthew lay there in silence.
For a long time.