"Version 3.0?"
The notification drew everyone's attention in the Interdimensional Chatroom.
Yue Buqun didn't hesitate. He opened the file immediately, scanning through it with barely contained anticipation.
At first glance, the opening section felt familiar—almost identical to the foundation he already knew. But as he read on, the differences became impossible to ignore.
The structure expanded. The logic deepened.
By the later sections, it had evolved into something entirely new.
The method wasn't just a refinement—it was a complete overhaul.
Instead of locking a user into a single path, it allowed for adaptive control. By adjusting how energy circulated through the body, it could replicate the effects of vastly different techniques—enhancing strength, accelerating recovery, extending lifespan, or stabilizing the body under extreme conditions.
It was flexible.
Scalable.
And terrifyingly efficient.
Yue Buqun's hands trembled slightly as he read.
More importantly—
There was a section focused on restoration.
Not vague promises, but a clear pathway.
A way to rebuild what had been lost.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then, quietly—
"I can fix this…"
Back in the chatroom, messages began to appear.
[The Noble Blade]:
Thank you, Senior. I won't forget this.
[The Exorcist]:
Appreciate it.
[Master Ronin]:
Same here.
[Deep Blue]:
No big deal. Try it out first. I'll improve it later when I have time.
Kana Kimishima stared at the screen, her expression somewhere between awe and disbelief.
"Try it out"? "Improve it later"?
She exhaled slowly.
If someone at his level still called that "not good enough," then what did that make everyone else?
She had only just reached a basic level after months of effort.
Meanwhile, Noah had gone from nothing to… this.
In weeks.
Still—
She found herself smiling faintly.
At least he wasn't like the last administrator.
He didn't posture. Didn't hoard everything. Didn't pretend to be something he wasn't.
If anything—
He was surprisingly straightforward.
A news broadcast played softly in the background.
Kana's attention drifted toward it as the anchor spoke.
"A 41-year-old man was found dead inside a parked car in Kawasaki. Authorities report unusual damage to the body, including signs of tissue consumption…"
Kana froze.
Her grip tightened slightly.
"…Parasytes."
The word came back to her instantly.
She'd heard about them before—from the former administrator's so-called "predictions."
Creatures that infiltrated human bodies.
Replaced them.
Hunted them.
And most of them operated at a level far beyond normal humans.
Kana swallowed, pulling her jacket tighter around herself.
For a moment, fear crept in.
Then she exhaled slowly.
No… it's different now.
With the new method—
With time—
She could reach that level too.
She didn't have to stay helpless.
Meanwhile, Noah leaned back in his chair, scrolling through the chat with a calm expression.
He didn't bother putting on an act.
No fake mystique.
No grandstanding.
What you saw was what you got.
These people weren't temporary.
They were long-term variables.
So there was no point pretending.
If they were useful—or at least not annoying—he didn't mind giving them something to work with.
And if someone crossed a line…
Well.
That could be handled.
By midday, Noah stepped outside.
The sunlight felt warm against his skin as he stretched slightly, loosening his shoulders.
For the first time in a while, he wasn't thinking about growth or threats.
Just moving.
Just existing.
Across the city, inside the Doom Corporation headquarters—
Victor paced in his office, staring at the stock market display with a tight expression.
Numbers were falling.
Fast.
Since the controversy broke out, investor confidence had taken a hit. The moment people started questioning Noah's system, the market reacted immediately.
Compared to Fisk, Victor had taken less damage.
But it still hurt.
A lot.
And the worst part?
There wasn't anything he could do about it.
Because the people behind it didn't play by normal rules.
Victor exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stay calm.
Elsewhere in the building—
Susan Storm blinked in surprise.
"What are you doing here?"
Noah sat casually on the edge of a desk, a lollipop between his teeth.
"Thought I'd drop by," he said. "You did say you'd teach me about aerospace systems."
Susan gave him a look.
You're here to study? Seriously?
Before she could respond, Johnny Storm stepped forward with an overly enthusiastic grin.
"Hey—uh—good to see you," he said quickly. "About last time… I might've misjudged you. Let's just say we're cool now, yeah?"
Susan shot him a sharp glare.
"Johnny."
"What?" he said, hands up defensively.
Noah didn't react much—just gave a small nod.
That was enough.
Johnny visibly relaxed.
"Anyway," Noah continued, glancing around, "when's the launch?"
"About a week," Susan replied. "We're timing it with a predicted cosmic storm. That's when we'll get the best data."
Noah nodded.
The cosmic storm.
Before, it might've been worth something.
Now?
Not really.
Still—
He'd never been to space.
Might as well see it firsthand.
"Reed still not back?" Noah asked casually.
Susan frowned slightly.
"You keep asking about him. Why?"
"Just curious," Noah said. "He's interesting."
He didn't elaborate.
Susan studied him for a moment, then sighed.
"Whatever. The materials are over there."
A stack of documents was placed in front of him soon after—technical manuals, safety protocols, mission outlines.
Noah picked one up, flipping it open.
For once—
He actually looked like he meant it.