Chaos swallowed the street outside Doom Industries.
Ten men moved through the crowd like precision tools—fast, efficient, unstoppable. Every second, more people dropped. Legs twisted at impossible angles, bodies hitting the pavement in waves.
Some tried to run.
They didn't make it two steps.
Screams filled the air—raw, desperate, continuous.
And it was all happening live.
Up on the seventh floor, Noah stood at the balcony, listening.
For a brief moment, his expression held.
Then it broke.
A grin spread across his face, sharp and unrestrained.
"…That's satisfying."
He let out a short laugh, rolling his shoulder like he'd just shaken off tension.
Turning slightly, he glanced at Kingpin.
"Clean this up properly," Noah said. "No loose ends."
Kingpin nodded. "Of course."
Noah tilted his head, as if remembering something.
"They were carrying signs with my face on them, right? Mocking me?"
"…Yes."
"Good," Noah said lightly. "Have lawyers send each of them a notice. Defamation. I want compensation for emotional distress."
He smiled faintly.
"And make sure their hospital stay isn't too comfortable."
Behind him, Susan and the others felt a chill crawl up their spines.
It wasn't just what he'd done.
It was how casually he layered more punishment on top of it.
Broken legs.
No compensation.
And now lawsuits.
If there was a line, Noah had stepped over it without even noticing.
Down below, the screaming gradually faded—not because the pain lessened, but because there was no one left untouched.
Over three hundred people lay scattered across the ground, writhing.
The attackers didn't run.
They didn't hide.
They simply stood there, waiting.
Then—
The main doors of Doom Industries opened.
Noah walked out.
Cameras immediately swung toward him.
He stepped forward, expression composed, voice steady.
"What exactly do you think you're doing?"
He looked straight at the ten men.
"This is assault. Care to explain?"
One of them spoke up without hesitation.
"We're your fans. We couldn't stand seeing you insulted, so we handled it ourselves."
A beat.
Noah nodded slightly.
"I see."
He gestured vaguely.
"Well, make sure you behave in prison."
Right on cue, police sirens cut through the air.
Squad cars pulled in fast, officers jumping out.
"Everyone stay where you are! Hands up!"
One officer took in the scene—dozens upon dozens of people on the ground, screaming, clutching ruined legs—and froze.
"…What the hell?"
He didn't need to ask twice.
The ten men had already raised their hands, stepping forward to be cuffed.
As for Noah?
He stood calmly off to the side.
Untouched.
Untouchable.
Ambulances began arriving in waves. Protesters were loaded onto stretchers, one after another. Many of them glared at Noah as they were taken away—hatred burning in their eyes.
Everyone knew.
No one could prove it.
Noah turned toward the lead officer, spreading his hands slightly.
"They admitted it themselves. Fans. I've never met them before today."
He gave a small shrug.
"You can't really blame me for what fans do, right?"
The officer's jaw tightened.
"I have every reason to believe you're behind this," he said, pulling out a pair of cuffs. "You're coming with us."
Noah sighed faintly.
"My time's valuable. And let's be honest—you're not going to find anything."
Victor stepped in quickly.
"Officer, I'm Victor Kane, CEO of Doom Industries. Mr. Vale has no connection to this incident."
The officer barely glanced at him.
Under his breath, almost too quiet to hear—
"Mutant freak."
Noah's smile shifted.
Subtle.
Dangerous.
"I didn't quite catch that," he said. "Mind repeating it?"
The officer ignored him, giving the cuffs a small shake.
"Let's go."
Noah didn't move.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly… then stepped aside and crouched down, as if he'd suddenly lost interest in the conversation.
To most people, it looked strange.
To Kingpin—
It was a signal.
I don't want to see him.
The response was immediate.
One of the cuffed men suddenly roared, surging forward.
"You think you can talk to him like that?!"
Before anyone could react, he broke past the officers and drove a kick straight into the lead cop, sending him crashing to the ground.
Then the punches came.
Fast.
Heavy.
Relentless.
"Stop! Stop!"
Officers rushed in, dragging him back—but not before the damage was done.
The captain lay motionless, face bloodied beyond recognition.
Silence fell for a split second.
Then chaos resumed.
Noah stood up slowly, dusting off his hands.
"You really shouldn't resort to violence like that," he said, almost mildly. "It looks bad."
He glanced at the attacker.
"Look at him. His own mother wouldn't recognize him now. You'd better reflect on that in prison."
The man lowered his head.
"…Yes, Mr. Vale."
He didn't resist as he was dragged away.
Noah turned to another officer—young, clearly shaken—and raised his hands slightly.
"If you'd like, you can arrest me too."
The officer instinctively nodded—
Then froze.
Because every single arrested man had turned to look at him.
Calm.
Unblinking.
Waiting.
The implication was obvious.
The officer took a step back.
"No—no, that won't be necessary."
Noah let his hands fall with a small sigh.
"Your call."
Around them, the remaining officers avoided his gaze.
No one stepped forward.
No one said another word.
Because everyone understood the same thing.
Power like this—
Wasn't something they could touch.