About a month ago, Noah started noticing something was… off.
At first, it was his vision.
Colors sharpened beyond anything normal. He could distinguish wavelengths the human eye wasn't supposed to see—subtle shifts, hidden layers of light, even faint traces of infrared and ultraviolet. Details that would blur for anyone else stood out to him with unsettling clarity.
At one point, he could look at the tip of a needle and see every microscopic imperfection.
It had been unbearable.
For a few days, the world looked broken—too sharp, too flawed. It made eating difficult. Even focusing on ordinary things felt exhausting.
Eventually, he learned to dial it back. By relaxing his focus, letting his vision blur just slightly, he could return to something closer to normal.
Then came the rest.
Touch. Smell. Taste.
And worst of all—hearing.
Every sense had been pushed far beyond human limits.
Even something as simple as standing near another person became dangerous. Breathing too hard, moving too fast, speaking without restraint—any of it could cause harm.
He had to control everything.
Every movement.
Every word.
At this point, if he wasn't careful, even a casual action could turn destructive.
His hearing, though—that was the real problem.
Even the faintest sound carried.
Echoes built entire mental maps of his surroundings. Within a kilometer, nothing escaped him. Conversations, footsteps, distant noise—it all reached him whether he wanted it to or not.
There was no such thing as silence anymore.
Not in the real world.
That was why he'd stopped sleeping normally.
Instead, when he needed rest, he phased himself into a separate state—somewhere quiet, completely cut off. A place where the only sound was his own body.
It was the only way to think.
The only way to breathe.
Fortunately, his control had improved alongside his power. With enough focus, he could regulate even internal functions—heartbeat, muscle tension, reflexes.
If that control extended further… down to the cellular level…
This problem might disappear entirely.
But until then—
He needed to fix his environment.
Starting with the noise.
"I've got a bit of a problem," Noah said calmly into the phone. "I'm sensitive to stress. Online harassment, constant insults… it keeps me up at night."
His tone was mild.
Almost reasonable.
"So if I can't sleep, I figure—no one else should either."
On the other end, Kingpin hesitated.
"…How far are you planning to take this?"
Noah didn't pause.
"As far as it goes. Target high-profile voices first. As for the rest—too many to deal with individually."
He considered it for a second.
"Pick a few hundred. Track them down. Pay them a visit."
Kingpin inhaled slowly.
Even for him, this was extreme.
Compared to Noah, his own past methods suddenly seemed… restrained.
At least he had kept things out of the spotlight.
Noah?
Noah was doing it openly.
Deliberately.
Provoking the entire world.
And sooner or later—
That would come back.
I might've backed the wrong man, Kingpin thought.
But he didn't say it.
"…Understood," he said instead.
Noah ended the call.
To him, this wasn't worth much thought.
Just noise.
And he intended to silence it.
As he walked, he became aware of something else.
The ground beneath his feet.
Even through his shoes, he could feel it—the subtle shifts, the pressure, the deep, constant force of the earth itself.
A thought formed.
Tomorrow… I might hit the current limit.
If surface-level resistance wasn't enough anymore, then maybe it was time to go deeper.
Far deeper.
The pressure beneath the earth's crust reached levels no machine could replicate.
Millions of atmospheres.
That kind of environment—
That could push him further.
A faint smile crossed his face.
That would be worth trying.
Behind him, Susan stepped out of the factory, catching up.
"So… where are we going to eat?"
Noah didn't slow.
"Just follow me. I know a place."
At the top of Stark Tower, Tony Stark sat cross-legged on a couch, eyes closed, focusing.
Ever since discovering the benefits of internal energy training, he'd been… distracted.
Obsessed, even.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," Tony said without opening his eyes.
Pepper stepped inside, arms crossed.
"If this isn't important, I'm going to assume you've officially lost it," she said.
Tony exhaled slowly, opening one eye.
"What is it?"
"You already skipped tonight's event," Pepper said. "Tomorrow's not optional."
Tony frowned slightly. "What's tomorrow?"
Pepper sighed.
"I knew you forgot. You're scheduled to present the new missile system at the Air Force base in Afghanistan. Colonel Rhodes specifically asked you to be there."
Tony waved a hand lazily.
"Right. That thing."
He stretched.
"Fine. Remind me again tomorrow."
Pepper gave him a long look.
"…I will."
Late that night—
In his room, Noah lay back, thinking.
Afghanistan… Stark's about to get captured.
He ran through the timeline in his head.
The origin of Iron Man.
He considered it briefly.
Then dismissed it.
Tony Stark would survive.
He always did.
And there wasn't much in it for him.
No reason to get involved.
"Hey… what are you thinking about?"
Camila's voice pulled him back.
She looked up at him, flushed and slightly out of breath, confused by his momentary distraction.
Noah glanced toward the side.
Someone else was already asleep.
"Keep it down," he said casually. "You'll wake her."
He leaned in, cutting off her reply with a quiet gesture, his attention shifting back to the moment.
Across the room, Susan lay wrapped in a blanket, fast asleep—completely unaware.
The night stretched on.
Long.
Uninterrupted.