Up on the top floor, while Fisk continued his impassioned speech, Tony Stark had already lost interest.
Instead, he flipped open the booklet in his hand.
Let's see what the big deal is, he thought, skimming the first page.
The introduction was straightforward.
It described a training method that, with enough effort, would always yield results. Even an average person could begin generating a trace of energy within half a day, while someone exceptionally gifted might manage it in minutes. With consistent practice, it claimed, a person could gradually strengthen their body, extend their lifespan, and remain free of illness.
Tony frowned slightly.
Decades? Seriously?
If it took forty or fifty years to see meaningful results, then what was the point?
But then—
"Holy—"
Someone nearby blurted out in shock.
Tony ignored it at first.
Then another voice.
And another.
Within seconds, the entire room was buzzing. People were reacting like they'd just stumbled onto something unbelievable.
Tony's irritation grew.
What is wrong with these people?
He flipped to the final page.
And then he saw it.
Energy of the same type could be transferred from one person to another.
There would be loss in the process—around twenty percent—but the transfer itself was possible.
Tony froze.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
His heartbeat spiked.
Now it made sense.
Everything made sense.
That offhand comment Noah had made earlier—
Overnight.
If one person could accumulate enough energy… and pass it on…
Then power wasn't limited by time anymore.
It could be bought.
Shared.
Stacked.
Manufactured.
Tony exhaled slowly, his grip tightening on the booklet.
Around him, others were having the same realization.
The room shifted.
Presidents, billionaires, world leaders—none of that mattered right now.
They all understood what this meant.
This wasn't just a method.
This was a system.
A way to create superhumans.
And for the wealthy?
A way to skip the line entirely.
Near the back, Nick Fury had already finished reading.
His expression darkened.
This is bad.
This wasn't just a technological breakthrough or a new weapon.
This was something that could ripple through every layer of society.
If this information spread—and it already was—then control would be nearly impossible.
Fury glanced around.
People weren't just interested.
They were hungry.
And worse—
This was being broadcast live.
Millions were watching.
The booklet had already been uploaded online. It was spreading faster than anyone could contain it.
Fury let out a quiet breath.
Too late.
His gaze shifted toward Noah, who was seated calmly near the stage, eyes closed as if none of this concerned him.
And stopping him?
Fury didn't even finish the thought.
Five minutes passed.
Noah opened his eyes and stood, walking up to the stage.
"I assume everyone's read the preface," he said, his voice calm but carrying effortlessly across the room. "Everything in it is accurate."
A ripple of tension moved through the audience.
"But," he continued, "I understand that words alone aren't enough."
He paused.
"So let's make it simple."
A faint smile crossed his face.
"I'll choose one person from the audience… and give them a century's worth of energy. Right here. Right now."
For a split second—
Silence.
Then the room exploded.
Voices rose instantly, overlapping in disbelief and excitement. Even the most composed individuals couldn't stay calm anymore.
This wasn't theory anymore.
This was proof.
If someone walked out of here transformed—
Then everything would change.
On the livestream, viewers were losing their minds.
Why only people there?!
Let me in on this!
This has to be staged—no way it's real!
Back in the hall, every single person sat forward slightly, tension coiling in the air.
No one spoke.
But everyone wanted the same thing.
Pick me.
The lights dimmed slightly as the large screen behind Noah flickered to life.
A digital wheel appeared.
Numbers filled the circle.
1 through 495.
Every guest in attendance.
The pointer began to spin.
Slowly at first—
Then faster.
Faster.
Eyes locked onto the screen.
As the numbers blurred together, people held their breath.
Every time the pointer passed their number, their pulse jumped—only to drop again as it moved on.
It didn't matter who they were.
In that moment, they were all the same.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Gambling.
The wheel slowed.
34…
62…
71…
The tension became unbearable.
And then—
It stopped.
A wave of disappointment swept through the room.
Muted groans. Quiet sighs.
So close.
Then—
Heads turned.
Row four. Far right.
There was no chair there.
Only a wheelchair.
An elderly man sat in it, thin, frail, his body visibly weakened by illness. His posture was stiff, his limbs atrophied.
But his eyes—
Sharp. Focused. Alive with curiosity.
Recognition spread like wildfire.
"…No way."
"It's him—"
"How is it him?"
Even Noah paused for half a second, clearly surprised.
Then he smiled faintly.
"Well," he said, stepping forward, "I didn't expect this either."
He looked directly at the man.
"Stephen Hawking," Noah said. "Congratulations. You're today's lucky guest."
A hush fell over the room.
"Would you be willing to participate?"
All eyes turned to Hawking.
Using the device mounted near his glasses, he selected words one at a time. The process was slow—painfully so—but no one looked away.
Seconds stretched.
Then, finally—
A synthesized voice spoke from his chair.
"I am honored," Hawking said. "And yes… I am willing."