Out in the outskirts of New York, a squadron of fighter jets closed in fast, stopping roughly ten kilometers from Noah Vale.
As they approached, the cargo bays opened.
Twenty Sentinel units were dropped from the sky.
They were already active.
The moment they detected a mutant within range, their eyes ignited with a cold, crimson glow. In midair, their bodies twisted—then space itself seemed to ripple as they vanished in bursts of gray distortion.
In the next instant, they reappeared around Noah.
Seven of them formed a tight perimeter, their arms morphing into blade-like weapons that stabbed toward him from every angle. The rest hovered at a distance, eyes blazing as they unleashed a barrage of searing red lasers.
Noah didn't move.
He just smiled.
"Using outdated models against me?" he muttered. "That's almost insulting."
His fist clenched.
Power erupted.
The air cracked as force equivalent to tens of thousands of tons detonated outward from his body. The Sentinels surrounding him were blown back instantly, sent hurtling away like debris in a storm.
The lasers struck him head-on.
Heat surged across his skin, scorching and tearing—but only barely. The beams burned through the surface layer, yet failed to penetrate deeper. Flesh broke, healed, and broke again in rapid succession, locked in a perfect balance between destruction and regeneration.
Compared to a few weeks ago, everything about him—strength, durability, healing—had multiplied several times over.
A faint, deep-violet energy shimmered across his body like a living armor, stabilizing the damage and sparing him the embarrassment of his clothes disintegrating entirely.
Noah flexed his right hand, studying the sensation.
"…Not adamantium," he said, glancing at the Sentinels he had just blasted away. "And none of them broke."
They were already returning—teleporting back into position, fists raised.
"Another upgrade," Noah said with a low chuckle. "S.H.I.E.L.D. really doesn't waste time."
The first Sentinel reached him.
Noah met its punch head-on.
The moment their fists collided, his expression shifted—just slightly.
A violent backlash surged through his arm.
The force he had just delivered… came right back at him.
His body tilted a fraction under the impact.
He looked down at his hand as the damage healed almost instantly, his eyes sharpening.
"Energy absorption… and redirection," he murmured. "Sebastian Shaw's ability, isn't it? That explains why they didn't break."
His gaze grew more focused.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Now you've got my attention."
Then he smiled again.
"In that case… let's see what happens when I stop holding back."
A translucent blue interface flickered into existence before his eyes.
Name: Noah Vale
Strength: 4.4 + 0.4
Available Points: 0.2
Noah exhaled.
"Put it all into strength."
The interface pulsed.
The numbers shifted.
Name: Noah Vale
Strength: 4.4 + 0.6
Available Points: 0
And then—
Everything changed.
His body surged with power at an explosive rate. Muscles, bones, and cells all adapted in an instant, pushing his limits into entirely new territory.
A thunderous boom ripped through the air.
Noah vanished.
The Sentinels hadn't even processed the movement before his fist slammed into one of them.
From his perspective, time stretched thin.
His punch landed—yet left no visible mark. The Sentinel absorbed every ounce of kinetic energy.
But Noah didn't stop.
At eleven times the speed of sound, the world around him might as well have been frozen. The Sentinels, reliant on teleportation to keep up, appeared motionless.
The air itself felt dense, resisting him like solid steel.
Still—
He moved.
One punch.
Ten.
A hundred.
A thousand.
In less than a second, he delivered over two thousand strikes.
Each one carried the force to level a skyscraper.
Each one was absorbed.
But there was a limit.
Even these upgraded Sentinels couldn't contain that much energy all at once.
From Noah's perspective, they barely moved—drifting only a few hundred meters through the air.
He smiled.
Then he let time snap back to normal.
Everything happened at once.
All the stored kinetic energy exceeded the Sentinels' capacity in a single instant.
They became bombs.
Twenty simultaneous detonations merged into one catastrophic explosion. Light and heat engulfed the area as a massive mushroom cloud rose into the sky.
The shockwave flattened everything within kilometers—grass, trees, earth—reduced to dust.
Even miles away, in New York City, windows shattered from the force.
Not far from ground zero, Noah lowered his arms.
They were mangled.
Twisted, torn, barely recognizable.
Pushing his strength beyond the balance of his body had taken its toll.
But his expression didn't change.
Within seconds, his arms regenerated completely, returning to perfect condition.
Inside a S.H.I.E.L.D. command center, the atmosphere was grim.
"They didn't even last a minute," Agent Phil Coulson said, staring at the satellite feed. "Our strongest units… gone just like that."
Nick Fury stood beside him, face unreadable.
"The President just authorized it," Fury said. "We're deploying a thermonuclear weapon. Maximum yield."
Maria Hill frowned. "It's too slow. He can easily outrun it."
Fury didn't blink.
"He won't."
Seven minutes later, Noah looked up.
A missile cut through the sky, trailing a long plume of fire.
Heavy.
Slow.
Deadly.
"…A nuclear strike, huh?" Noah said, squinting slightly. "That thing's not even breaking Mach 1."
He tilted his head.
"You're really betting I won't dodge."
Then he grinned.
"…You're right."
Instead of moving away—
He stepped forward.
The air beneath his feet compressed as he launched himself upward, accelerating straight toward the incoming warhead.
From orbit, satellites captured the moment.
A lone figure racing toward annihilation.
"They're actually… colliding," Coulson whispered, eyes wide.
And then—
Contact.
A blinding light consumed half the sky.