Half an hour later, inside Fisk Tower—
Magneto sat in Wilson Fisk's chair like he owned the building.
Nearby, Mystique lounged on a sofa, flipping through a copied manual with intense focus, committing every line to memory.
Fisk stood off to the side, posture stiff, explaining things as carefully as possible.
"You're saying this technique," Magneto said slowly, "allows someone to receive decades—centuries—of accumulated energy overnight, as long as someone transfers it to them?"
"Exactly," Fisk replied. "We've tested it. Different people can hold different amounts depending on their physical limits. Some manage a few decades' worth… others, several hundred."
They had gone as far as conducting internal examinations.
What they found had shaken even seasoned professionals.
There were actual energy pathways inside the human body—visible, structured, undeniable.
The kind of discovery that should have rewritten medical science.
And yet, somehow, no one had ever documented it before.
The elevator doors opened.
Tombstone stepped out, bringing someone with him.
A young man.
Ordinary at a glance—but there was something different about him.
His posture was steady. His breathing controlled. His entire presence radiated contained energy.
"Boss," Tombstone said, gesturing. "He's ready."
Fisk nodded.
"This is the donor," he explained. "He's carrying roughly three hundred years' worth of accumulated energy."
He glanced at Magneto.
"Once she's ready, we can begin. I was planning to split it—"
"All of it," Magneto interrupted calmly.
Fisk blinked.
"I'll take all three hundred."
He tapped the table lightly.
"I'll wire you thirty million dollars."
Fisk's expression tightened.
Thirty million…
Under normal circumstances, what he had here could be flipped for ten times that—or more.
But this wasn't a negotiation.
"…Of course," Fisk said, forcing a smile.
Hours passed.
Mystique finally closed the manual, her expression sharpening.
"I'm ready."
They moved quickly.
The young man sat cross-legged behind her, placing his hands against her back.
Then—
It began.
Energy flowed.
A steady, invisible transfer—yet unmistakable.
A faint violet glow spread across both of them, growing brighter as the process continued.
Minutes passed.
The young man's condition deteriorated rapidly.
His eyes dulled.
His skin lost its vitality.
Like someone who hadn't slept in days… weeks.
Meanwhile—
Mystique's presence grew stronger.
Sharper.
More alive.
When it ended, the donor collapsed forward, barely conscious.
Mystique stood.
"How does it feel?" Magneto asked.
She flexed her hand slowly, a faint smile forming.
"Like I've been holding back my entire life."
She stepped forward—
And struck.
The air cracked.
Without even touching it directly, the wall ahead dented inward, leaving a deep impression.
She blinked, slightly surprised.
"…I didn't mean to hit that hard."
She picked up a bronze statue from the table, channeling that same energy—
Then pressed her palm into it.
Metal deformed instantly.
A clean imprint left behind.
"Strength, speed—everything's amplified," she said. "But without that energy, I'm still just… me."
Magneto's eyes gleamed.
"So this is what Noah meant."
This wasn't just power.
It was a solution.
A way to eliminate his greatest weakness.
He turned to Fisk.
"I'll transfer one hundred million to you shortly," Magneto said. "In one week, I want another seven hundred years' worth prepared."
Fisk's face twitched slightly.
Seven hundred.
But he didn't argue.
"…Understood."
Magneto didn't wait for anything else.
With a flick of his hand, metal responded.
The two of them rose into the air and left the building without another word.
Silence fell.
Tombstone stepped closer.
"…Boss?"
Fisk exhaled slowly, irritation finally showing.
"What choice do we have?" he said. "Take the money, reinvest it. Expand supply."
He grabbed his phone.
Time to call the one person responsible for this.
The line connected.
Noah picked up.
"What is it?"
Fisk's tone instantly shifted.
Smooth. Polite.
"Just wanted to say—you could've warned me you knew Magneto," he said with a light laugh. "He showed up, mentioned your name… I made sure to give him the best we had."
He continued quickly.
"Three hundred years' worth transferred. I even arranged another seven hundred for next week. At cost."
Noah didn't react.
"Fine," he said. "That works."
Then—
"What about the equipment I asked for?"
Fisk straightened slightly.
"We're working on it," he said. "I'll push the team to speed things up."
"And the book promotion?" he added carefully. "We're ready to launch, but it would help if you—"
"No," Noah cut him off. "Too much hassle."
A pause.
"Release day, maybe. That's it."
"…Understood," Fisk said immediately.
The call ended.
Fisk lowered the phone slowly.
For a moment, the room was quiet.
Tombstone stared at him.
The difference in tone hadn't gone unnoticed.
Fisk turned his head slightly.
"What are you looking at?"
"…Nothing," Tombstone said quickly.
Fisk's expression darkened.
"Then stop standing there and get back to work."