The female vampire's gaze lingered on Noah in a way that made him uneasy—like she was sizing him up as a full-course meal.
Am I really that appetizing?
Curious, Noah glanced at his own arm. Pale skin, firm muscle… nothing special, at least to him. After a moment's hesitation, he leaned down and bit into it.
The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
He smacked his lips lightly, frowning.
"I don't get it," he muttered. "What's so exciting about this?"
Still, something strange happened.
A sense of fullness crept in—not the kind that made him sick, but the kind that told his body it had enough energy. More than enough.
Noah pressed a hand against his stomach, puzzled. He wasn't forced to stop eating… but his body didn't need anything else.
His eyes drifted to the bite mark on his arm.
So I can just… sustain myself like this?
That sounded ridiculous.
He glanced at the stunned vampire beside him and shook his head. If anything, he seemed more like the vampire now.
"Well," he said, nudging her with his foot, "if you're done staring, get back to work. We've got an all-nighter ahead."
She blinked, snapping out of it. "Right. And… my name's Carrie Camilla."
That night passed in a strange rhythm—steel rods striking flesh, the dull thud of impact, and the occasional pause as Camilla fed from Noah's blood.
The next morning, Smith arrived.
The second-floor gym was completely sealed off, curtains blocking out every trace of sunlight. Inside, a cold, composed woman stood over Noah, repeatedly striking him with a metal rod.
Smith raised an eyebrow. "Noah… who's this?"
"Hired help," Noah said casually. "Enhanced stamina. Name's Camilla. She'll be taking over your role."
Smith nodded slowly, still eyeing her, before lifting the case in his hand. "Then you'll like this. Custom job—small generator, adjustable magnetic output. You can fine-tune voltage and current."
He opened the case and pulled out several electrode pads.
"Stick these on your skin. Flip the switch, and it'll start feeding current. Max output goes up to 5000 volts."
Noah crouched, attaching the pads across his upper body.
"Let's start at 110."
Smith turned the dial.
A faint crackle filled the air as electricity surged through Noah's body. His muscles twitched involuntarily, rippling under the current.
For a moment, his body resisted.
Then it adapted.
"Push it higher," Noah said. "Try 220."
They kept increasing it, step by step, until they reached 500 volts.
"No higher for now," Noah decided.
A faint smile tugged at his lips as he assessed the results. The electrical stimulation wasn't just painful—it was forcing his cells to break down and rebuild faster, pushing his limits from the inside out.
Now, he had everything working at once.
Heavy steel weights to build raw strength.
Electric current tearing through his body to accelerate cellular adaptation.
Camilla and Spider-Man delivering relentless physical punishment to toughen his skin and endurance.
If this didn't bring him up to Peter Parker's level within a month, nothing would.
"Wrap the tip in rubber," Noah told Camilla, gesturing to the rod.
Then he clenched his fist, feeling the power coiled inside it.
This place… this is everything I need right now.
Until every aspect of his body reached the next threshold, he wasn't leaving.
The routine became brutal.
No sleep. No breaks. No distractions.
During the day, Camilla hammered him with the rod, her strikes precise and relentless.
At night, she rested—and Peter took over.
On weekends, both of them attacked him at once.
Through Camilla, Noah had discovered something else about himself: his flesh was… valuable. Potent.
So he adapted.
Thirsty? He drank blood—with her.
Hungry? He tore into his own flesh.
Tired?
He sat down and focused, drawing on the strange internal energy he'd been cultivating, letting it circulate through his body until the fatigue faded.
The changes came fast.
By the end of the first day, the weight he lifted had doubled—three tons, held steady in his hands.
By the fifth day, even Smith couldn't hide his envy. Noah's energy output had become dense, almost visible, like a storm gathering above him. What would take an ordinary person a year to build, he could now achieve in hours.
By the eighth day—
A sharp crack echoed through the gym.
Peter froze, staring at the broken halves of the steel rod in his hands.
It had snapped on impact against Noah's back.
"…Okay," Peter muttered. "That's new."
Time blurred together.
Days bled into nights. Pain became routine.
Ten days passed.
Noah sat cross-legged on the floor, breathing slowly, guiding the energy within him through controlled cycles. The air around him felt heavy, charged, as if something invisible was pooling above his head.
Most of his time had gone into physical training, but even the fragments he devoted to internal development had paid off. The energy inside him had grown immense—dense, refined, and stable.
He exhaled slowly and stood.
The difference between now and ten days ago was undeniable.
Nearby, the generator hummed at full capacity. Five thousand volts surged into his body, scorching his flesh—only for it to regenerate moments later.
Camilla approached, watching him with a mix of awe and exhaustion. His hair had grown longer, brushing his shoulders, giving him an almost unreal presence.
"Training again?" she asked.
Noah shook his head.
"I'm tired."
She snorted. "You've been tired every day."
"Not physically," he said. "Mentally. I need a break."
He looked at her, completely unbothered.
"Want to sleep with me?"
"…Wait, what?"