Dusk settled over the ocean just outside New York.
On a luxury cruise ship, a group of young people laughed, drank, and blasted music—completely unaware of what was about to pass them by.
One of them leaned against the railing, squinting toward the horizon.
"Hey… do you guys see that?" he called out. "Something's going on out there. Is that… explosions?"
The others turned.
Out on the water, bursts of spray erupted one after another—columns of seawater shooting into the air like detonating mines.
But what really set them on edge—
Those explosions were moving.
Fast.
And heading straight toward them.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Each step Noah took slammed into the ocean like a cannon strike.
His foot hit the water—
—and the recoil launched him forward like a missile.
In a blink, he covered dozens of meters. Then another step. Another explosion. Another leap.
At that speed, the surface of the ocean might as well have been solid ground beneath him.
This was the first time he'd let himself go all out.
No restraints.
No distractions.
His clothes, phone—everything unnecessary—had been stored away in his pocket dimension. Nothing slowed him down.
Only speed remained.
The cruise ship came into view ahead.
Noah didn't bother slowing down.
At near-sonic velocity, they wouldn't see him clearly anyway—at best, a blur. A ghost tearing across the sea.
In the span of a heartbeat, he passed them.
Gone.
Three seconds later, he was over a kilometer away.
On the ship, chaos erupted.
The thunderous blasts of displaced water hit them all at once—like underwater detonations going off in rapid succession.
Wind howled.
Spray crashed across the deck.
People stumbled, shouting, shielding their eyes.
But none of them ever saw what had caused it.
Three minutes later, Noah reached the outskirts of his factory.
He slowed to a stop, stepping onto solid ground before pulling his clothes back out of storage and throwing them on.
Then he opened the pocket space again.
Rogue dropped out, landing unsteadily after floating in weightless darkness for several minutes.
Noah smiled. "Welcome back to New York."
She blinked, still adjusting. "That was… weird."
"Yeah, you'll get used to it," he said. "Come on—I'll show you around. This is where you'll be training from now on."
She nodded without hesitation.
At this point, she trusted him completely.
Inside the factory, Smith spotted him immediately.
"Boss, you're back."
Noah gestured toward Rogue. "This is Mary. She's a mutant—she'll be staying with us. Starting tomorrow, get a few hundred lab mice for her. She needs practice."
Smith nodded. "Got it."
He didn't seem particularly bothered by the word mutant.
After everything he'd seen, it barely registered anymore.
Still, as he glanced between Noah and Rogue, a thought crossed his mind.
Bringing a girl like this back… wonder how Camila's gonna react.
He wisely kept that to himself.
"Fire up the system," Noah said.
He could already feel another tear forming along his ankle—his ability still unstable.
He needed to push his body further.
Increase his resilience.
Stabilize everything.
A fleeting thought crossed his mind.
If Camila turned me into a vampire… could I override the weaknesses the same way?
Sunlight sensitivity. Garlic. All of it.
If his body could adapt fast enough…
That might open up a lot of options.
He filed the idea away for later.
Right now—
Training came first.
The machines roared to life.
Massive steel mechanisms shifted into place behind him, pressing down with crushing force—tens of tons bearing against his back and legs.
Electric current surged through his body, crackling violently across his skin.
At the same time, Noah gripped a massive steel block—easily weighing dozens of tons—and began lifting.
Again.
And again.
The factory filled with noise.
Metal grinding.
Electricity snapping.
Heavy impacts echoing through the space.
Within minutes, thin streams of smoke began to rise from his body—the result of intense heat from the current searing his flesh.
And yet—
His expression didn't change.
Rogue watched, stunned.
"…Does he always train like this?" she asked quietly.
Smith scratched his head. "Not exactly. This setup's only been here about a week."
He paused, thinking back.
"You know what's crazy? I've only known him for less than a month."
Rogue blinked. "Seriously?"
"Yeah," Smith said, shaking his head. "First day I met him, he could barely move after training. Third day, he was already breaking world records. Less than a week in, he took down a group of armed bank robbers by himself."
He let out a breath.
"A few days later, he even fought that vigilante—the Punisher—and came out on top."
Rogue's eyes widened.
"And after that?" she asked.
"He wiped out thousands of infected people controlled by a mutant," Smith continued. "Then we built all this."
He glanced at Noah, who was still lifting under crushing weight and electricity.
"That was… what, 28 days ago?"
Even saying it out loud felt unreal.
If this was one month—
What would six look like?
A year?
Smith didn't even want to guess.
Rogue stood there, speechless.
If even half of that was true…
Noah wasn't just strong.
He was something else entirely.
Meanwhile, Noah continued training.
Every movement pushed his body further.
His endurance climbed steadily, inching toward the next threshold.
It would take time—hours more—but he could already feel the change coming.
Elsewhere in New York—
Things were far less controlled.
Spider-Man swung frantically between skyscrapers, webs shooting from his wrists as he pushed himself faster and faster.
Behind him—
A massive figure clung to the side of a building.
Over eight feet tall, covered in green scales, muscles bulging beneath reptilian skin.
The Lizard.
It moved with terrifying speed, claws digging into concrete as it climbed.
Chunks of the building tore free under its grip, falling into the streets below.
A guttural roar echoed through the city as it chased its prey.
And Spider-Man—
Was running out of options.
...
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