"BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!"
In New York City, the deafening sound of explosions echoed across the streets, but it wasn't artillery shells—it was the sheer force of Noah's punches.
Vampires roared, their snarls filling the air as they swarmed toward him in an endless wave. But to Noah, they moved like slow-motion targets in a shooting gallery.
With a flick of his arm, Noah launched a devastating punch.
CRACK!
The lead vampire's skull exploded into a bloody mist, scattering shards of bone and brain matter. The sheer pressure from the blow sent nearby attackers flying backward like rag dolls.
Noah didn't hesitate. He grabbed the wrist of a vampire sneaking up behind him and twisted with a bone-snapping crunch. Swinging the body like a club, he slammed it into the advancing horde, tearing through them like a wrecking ball.
The chaotic crowd surged again, but Noah leaped into the air, muscles coiling with explosive power. When he landed, his steel-like body crushed more than a dozen vampires into mangled piles of flesh and bone. Blood spattered in all directions, but none of it touched him.
Even the vampires' vaunted regenerative abilities were useless. Heads were obliterated, hearts pulverized into pulp—injuries too severe for their healing to overcome. Noah's fists, harder than steel, did more damage than any weapon.
"Honestly, this feels easier than my training sessions," Noah muttered to himself, casually decapitating another vampire.
He scanned the battlefield, observing the frenzied expressions of his enemies. There was no fear, no hesitation—only blind aggression.
"Seriously, why are you guys so obsessed with killing me?" Noah asked, splitting another vampire down the middle with a single strike. "If you've got a grudge, we can talk it out."
Unsurprisingly, no one answered. Another group lunged at him, and with a flick of his wrist, Noah sent them flying.
"Fine, be that way," he sighed, crushing another skull. "But don't complain when there's no one left."
Around him, the battlefield grew eerily silent. Bodies—headless, heartless, and mangled beyond recognition—lay in heaps. Noah stood at the center, untouched and unbothered, like a god of war.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters
At the same time, Nick Fury watched the chaos unfold on a surveillance feed. Even with cutting-edge cameras, Noah's movements were almost impossible to track.
"Director," Coulson said hesitantly, "should we contact Professor X to handle the aftermath?"
Fury shook his head. "Not yet. This is... something else entirely."
Fury leaned closer, analyzing Noah's performance. His strength, speed, and durability weren't individually remarkable, but combined, they created an unparalleled fighter.
"A perfect hexagonal warrior," Fury murmured. Such balance was rare, even among mutants. Level 5 mutants often had glaring weaknesses—but Noah seemed to have none.
"Do we have any information on him?" Fury asked.
"Yes, sir," Coulson replied, pulling up a file. "His name is Noah, a Chinese-American high school student at Midtown High. His history includes several suspected crimes—gang activity, robberies—but nothing officially confirmed."
Fury's expression darkened. "Seal his file. Level 9 access only."
Coulson blinked. "Sir?"
"No one else needs to know about him for now," Fury said, his gaze fixed on the screen. "This kid is trouble."
Back on the Battlefield
Five minutes later, Noah stood alone amidst a sea of corpses. Blood stained every inch of the street, but none of it touched him.
His seventy-year-old Zixia Divine Art radiated from within, forming an invisible barrier that repelled even the finest droplets of blood. Noah's clothes were spotless, his appearance as composed as when the battle began.
Casually crushing the last vampire's skull in his grip, Noah turned to leave. Yet, he could feel the eyes of countless onlookers—hidden figures watching him from the shadows.
Before he could take another step, a military jeep screeched to a halt in front of him. The door opened, and an old man in uniform stepped out.
"Need something?" Noah asked, noting the man's nameplate: Thaddeus E. Ross.
Ross regarded him with a sharp, appraising gaze. "Kid, you just saved me a world of trouble. If those vampires had escaped into the city, I'd have been fired by morning."
He handed Noah a business card. "If you ever need a favor, call me."
Noah hesitated but accepted the card. "Thanks... I think?"
Ross smirked. "By the way, the press is on their way. Try to look good for the cameras. Dinner's on me this weekend."
"Wait, what?" Noah asked, bewildered.
Before Ross could respond, the distant roar of engines grew louder. Cars screeched to a halt, and reporters swarmed the scene, microphones thrusting toward Noah like weapons.
The night wasn't over. For Noah, this was just the beginning—a bloody storm of public opinion, political intrigue, and power plays loomed on the horizon.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Bring me the Power Stones! ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)
Suppose I were to start a Patreon. What should be the price for 30 extra chapters? I am thinking of 5 dollars. I mean, would people even buy it? (probably not now or ever)
It will mainly help to finance my life. So, I can continue writing besides studying. I am writing fanfics now to gain experience, and then after I feel confident, I will work on an original novel.