Late at night in Manhattan, an ancient stone building stood quietly between modern towers. The structure looked out of place among the surrounding glass and steel, its thick walls and narrow windows hinting at a much older purpose.
Inside, a towering man with dark skin and a powerful build was chained tightly to a steel restraint frame.
Blade.
Heavy metal restraints locked his arms and legs in place. Despite that, his eyes burned with quiet fury as he stared at the pale man standing before him.
The man's skin was almost colorless, as if blood had never touched it.
He stood surrounded by followers, smiling faintly.
"Well," he said softly, "how are you holding up, Blade?"
The man took a slow step closer.
"I gave you a chance once. All you had to do was join us and donate a small amount of blood—two liters. With it, the Blood God could rise again, and the vampire race would reclaim its rightful place."
He crouched slightly, looking at Blade's forced kneeling position.
"But you refused."
The smile widened.
"And now look at you."
Blade spat blood to the side and smirked.
"You really think a bunch of vampires are going to take over the world?"
His eyes sharpened.
"Maybe you should worry about mutants first. Humanity hasn't even figured out how to deal with them yet."
The pale man laughed.
"Mutants?"
His voice dripped with amusement.
"You think I'm like those old pureblood dinosaurs who cling to tradition?"
He straightened his coat.
"Humans can become vampires. Why shouldn't mutants?"
He leaned forward slightly.
"Yes, the genetic clash causes… complications. The survival rate is low."
"But experimentation solves problems."
Blade's expression darkened.
"I've already created one," the man continued proudly. "A mutant vampire."
The reaction on Blade's face only made him grin wider.
"When I ascend as the Blood God, my bloodline will dominate everything."
He spread his arms theatrically.
"Mutants will become part of my army."
"And humans…"
His smile sharpened.
"Will simply become food."
He stepped back and waved a hand casually.
"Enjoy the time you have left."
"On the next full moon, we'll use the blood of the Daywalker as the sacrifice that welcomes the Blood God into this world."
Two vampires stepped forward immediately, dragging Blade away toward the dungeon below.
The heavy doors slammed shut behind them.
Morning arrived.
Inside the private training room at Mines Fitness Club, Noah Vale slowly exhaled as the faint violet glow around him faded.
He opened his eyes.
His body felt light.
Strong.
Stretching his arms, he felt the energy moving through his muscles and bones.
His durability had improved again.
Which brought a new problem.
My recovery speed is getting too fast.
The acid training that once worked so well was already losing efficiency.
Destroying the outer layer of his skin now took longer—and his body could fully repair the damage in roughly two hours.
At this rate, he'd need to find new methods soon.
Noah glanced toward the door.
He'd already heard footsteps outside.
A moment later, the door opened.
Coach Smith stepped in, looking unusually energized.
Judging by the dark circles under his eyes, he probably hadn't slept well.
"Morning," Noah said.
Smith grinned.
"You said today's the day."
He had clearly been thinking about this all night.
Noah pointed toward the corner of the room.
"Your manual is over there."
Smith followed his gaze and picked up the thick notebook resting on the bench.
"This is the technique you use?" he asked.
He opened it—and blinked.
Instead of some ancient mystical text, the "manual" was written in a modern notebook.
The pages were packed with neatly organized English explanations, diagrams, and annotations.
It looked less like a mystical scroll and more like the notes of a top student preparing for finals.
Everything was clear and structured enough that any reasonably intelligent person could understand it.
Noah shrugged.
"Don't just stand there. Start practicing."
"If you don't understand something, ask."
"And once you can generate energy on your own, I'll help accelerate your progress."
Smith sat down immediately and began reading.
As he worked through the explanations, his eyebrows kept rising higher.
Internal energy.
Energy centers in the body.
Circulation pathways.
None of it sounded remotely scientific.
Still, he trusted Noah enough to try.
Meanwhile, Noah returned to his training, occasionally answering Smith's questions when they came up.
Hours passed.
By early afternoon—around one o'clock—Smith finally understood the basics.
He closed his eyes and followed the breathing method described in the notebook.
Ten minutes passed.
Twenty.
An hour.
Two hours.
Smith's confidence started to crumble.
Is this actually real?
Just as doubt crept in—
A faint sensation appeared inside his body.
Warm.
Subtle.
Like a thread of heat moving through his core.
Smith's eyes snapped open.
"I felt it!"
He jumped to his feet.
"White—Noah! I felt it!"
His excitement caused the fragile sensation to collapse immediately.
The warmth vanished.
But Smith didn't care.
That brief moment proved it existed.
"If I sit for another couple hours, it should come back again," he said excitedly.
Across the room, Noah looked slightly puzzled.
"…So it actually works."
Smith frowned.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing."
Noah waved it off.
"You lost the energy because you moved too suddenly. Just try again."
"Got it."
Smith sat down again with renewed determination.
Once he closed his eyes, Noah quietly shook his head.
To be honest, he hadn't been completely sure this method would work for Smith.
Different worlds produced very different power systems.
Mutant genetics.
Chakra.
Internal energy.
Cosmic power.
Limiter-breaking abilities.
Reality-bending phenomena.
If someone tried to combine all those systems into a single body, the result would probably explode.
Every universe seemed to follow its own rules.
Which was why Noah had assumed techniques from one world wouldn't necessarily work in another.
If human bodies in this world truly had the energy pathways described in the manual, scientists should have discovered them during dissections long ago.
So why could Smith do it?
Noah suspected his own success came from the strange system tied to the Interdimensional Chatroom.
But Smith didn't have that advantage.
The question lingered in his mind.
Still, it wasn't something he could solve right now.
His current strength wasn't anywhere near high enough to investigate the deeper mechanics of reality.
Noah pushed the thought aside and focused on training.
Later that afternoon, the door opened again.
Peter Parker stepped into the room, still wearing his school backpack.
He immediately noticed Smith sitting cross-legged in the corner.
"…Uh."
Peter looked confused.
"Who's that?"
"My coach," Noah said. "He's learning a martial arts technique."
Peter blinked.
"Like… movie martial arts?"
"Something like that."
Noah shrugged.
"If you're interested, you can try it too during your breaks. It won't hurt."
Peter scratched his head.
"Yeah, maybe."
Noah set down the iron block he'd been lifting.
Then he turned his head toward the door.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Someone was outside.
The person had been standing there quietly for nearly a minute.
Trying very hard not to be noticed.