The Interdimensional Chatroom had rules.
Simple ones. Clear ones.
Anyone could send a cross-world invitation—but only if they weren't muted. The inviter had to set the time, place, and number of participants. And once someone arrived, they could leave by canceling the invitation… as long as they weren't in combat.
That last rule mattered most.
If the system detected you were still fighting, you couldn't escape. Not until you'd been out of combat long enough for it to reset.
Noah Vale had memorized all of it.
Every line.
Every loophole.
He'd spent days running scenarios in his head, making sure there were no gaps. If he was going to do this, it had to be airtight.
Because killing the administrator wasn't enough.
He needed him alive.
At least long enough to lift the mute.
Otherwise, if the administrator died and no replacement appeared—
Who would remove the restriction?
So Noah didn't just prepare for a fight.
He prepared for control.
On the surface, it looked like a one-on-one battle.
But that wasn't the truth.
Hidden from sight, multiple safeguards were in place. If things went wrong, allies would step in without hesitation—Ancient One, Professor X, and Magneto were all watching.
If Noah failed—
They wouldn't.
Even inside Noah's personal space, Tony Stark had spotted something that made him uneasy.
A nuclear device.
Not subtle. Not theoretical.
A real, high-yield weapon.
Tony hadn't even asked where Noah got it.
At that point, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.
As it turned out—
None of it mattered.
Because the fight wasn't close.
Not even remotely.
The Afghan desert erupted.
Sand rose into the sky in massive waves, like a thousand dragons roaring at once. The sun vanished behind a swirling storm of dust, turning the bright afternoon into something dim and oppressive.
At the center of it—
Noah stood.
His clothes had already been reduced to dust, torn apart by the forces he was unleashing.
Both arms moved in a blur.
Every punch carried enough force to send thousands of tons of sand exploding upward.
Every second—
Hundreds.
Thousands.
A relentless barrage of straight punches, each one faster than the last, each one hitting harder than the one before.
His body held up without strain.
Endless stamina.
Endless output.
He pushed himself without holding back, driving his strength higher with every passing moment.
Inside the storm—
Deep Crimson struggled to comprehend what he was seeing.
The desert had turned into a grinding vortex of destruction. Sand whipped through the air like a storm of blades, dense enough to shred metal into powder.
Each grain slammed into his body like a bullet, clattering against the red-scaled armor covering his skin.
What is this…?
This wasn't a fight.
This was a natural disaster.
No—
Worse.
Because it was focused.
Controlled.
Directed at him.
Before he could fully react—
A hand broke through the storm.
Pale.
Unstoppable.
It seized him by the hair.
"You're done."
The words were quiet.
Almost casual.
But in the same instant—
His heart stopped.
For a split second, everything went silent.
Then Noah moved.
Still gripping his head, he drove a punch toward Deep Crimson's abdomen—
—and stopped just short.
No contact.
Not even an inch.
But it didn't matter.
The air itself became the weapon.
A shockwave detonated at point-blank range, compressing and igniting the sand into a blast of superheated force.
The impact hit like a furnace exploding inside his body.
Deep Crimson choked, blood bursting from his mouth as his thoughts shattered under the pain.
Noah frowned slightly.
Too close.
He adjusted immediately.
"Guess I need to dial it back."
He tightened his grip—
His fingers sank into Deep Crimson's skull, cracking bone under the pressure.
Then he threw him.
Hard.
Deep Crimson's body shot across the desert like a missile, ripping through the air at supersonic speed. Sand tore at his body, stripping away scales and flesh in layers, like a thousand blades carving into him.
Pain flooded his senses.
Unending.
Unavoidable.
Before he could even process it—
A hand appeared in front of him.
Waiting.
Noah.
He caught him mid-flight.
And drove a knee upward—
Stopping just short again.
But the pressure alone was enough.
The air exploded.
Deep Crimson's face was torn apart by the force, his vision going white as agony consumed everything.
This… is worse than dying…
His body tried to heal.
That only made it worse.
The damage came faster than recovery.
Every moment stretched into something unbearable.
And all of it—
Happened in less than five seconds.
Half an hour later—
The storm began to settle.
Noah walked out of the fading dust cloud, dragging Deep Crimson behind him.
The man looked barely conscious.
More like something broken.
His scalp was gone, his body covered in torn, half-healed wounds, his eyes unfocused.
Noah let him drop.
"…I wasted ten days for this?" he muttered.
Disappointment flickered across his face.
He snapped his fingers.
Deep Crimson gasped and pushed himself upright, still shaking.
"That was excessive," he rasped.
"Was it?" Noah said calmly. "I just returned the favor. You have no idea what I've been through these past two months."
Far away, on Utopia—
Professor X sat connected to Cerebro, his body trembling.
"I felt that," he said weakly. "Every bit of it…"
Through their psychic link, the pain had echoed back to him.
And now he understood—
Noah had endured worse.
"Enough," Noah said, looking back at Deep Crimson. "Unlock it."
Deep Crimson hesitated for half a second—
Then nodded.
Under Professor X's control, his mind moved.
Seconds later—
A notification appeared.
You have been unmuted from the Interdimensional Chatroom.
Noah closed his eyes briefly.
Then smiled.
"…Finally."
...
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