Inside Sasuke's house, the sound of pens scratching across paper filled the room nonstop.
Dozens of them moved at once.
Noah Vale stood in the center, surrounded by sheets of paper, controlling multiple pens with strands of violet energy. Each one wrote at incredible speed, line after line flowing without pause.
Finished pages were tossed aside.
Sasuke picked them up as fast as he could, skimming through them—but even his reading speed couldn't keep up.
Hours passed.
Then—
Noah flicked the final stack of pages together, satisfied.
"And that's the whole thing."
He stretched slightly, looking pleased. In just a few hours, he'd recreated an entire story from beginning to end.
Across the room, Sasuke stood frozen.
He wasn't reading everything—just the parts that mattered.
The parts about himself.
And his brother.
His hands trembled as he stared at one particular page.
"Itachi… he really…"
His voice trailed off.
Noah didn't soften it.
"Yeah," he said casually. "He wiped out your entire clan to protect the village. Then he ran off and took the blame."
Sasuke's grip tightened on the paper.
Noah continued, his tone almost indifferent.
"He chose the village over his family. But he made sure you survived."
A pause.
"So what do you think?"
Sasuke's body shook.
"Forgive him?" he snapped. "How could I?!"
His voice cracked with anger.
"My parents are dead because of him. My entire clan is gone. And now I'm supposed to just accept that because he had a reason?"
He lowered his head, teeth clenched.
"That doesn't make it right."
Noah watched him quietly.
"You're already wavering," he said. "You just don't want to admit it."
Sasuke didn't respond.
"You've got time," Noah added. "Think it through before you decide anything. Regret's a pain you don't get rid of easily."
Silence filled the room.
From the outside, it looked simple—right and wrong, betrayal and loyalty.
But from the inside…
It was a mess.
Family.
Duty.
Revenge.
There was no clean answer.
After a while, Sasuke finally spoke.
"…No matter what," he said slowly, "the village still has to pay."
Noah raised an eyebrow.
"Really?"
He tilted his head slightly.
"And what about the people you know? The ones who've been fighting beside you?"
Sasuke froze.
Noah didn't press further.
He didn't need to.
That was the problem.
Connections.
The kind that tangled around you whether you wanted them or not.
They made things complicated.
They made decisions harder.
Noah gathered the manuscript and gave it a light shake.
"Think about it," he said. "I've got something to take care of."
Sasuke looked up. "Where are you going?"
"To stir things up."
Noah stepped forward—and phased straight through the wall, disappearing from sight.
There was still about a month before the main event.
Not a lot of time.
But enough.
Over the next several hours, Noah moved through different regions, keeping a low profile while getting what he needed.
Printing.
Distribution.
He didn't need to show his face.
A little pressure here.
A little persuasion there.
By the end of it, copies of the manuscript were already being produced and quietly circulated.
With that done, Noah returned to New York.
He wanted to let things build on their own.
Let both the locals and the outsiders react.
The White House.
As soon as Noah appeared, several people stood up immediately.
Wilson Fisk stepped forward, holding out a box.
"Mr. Vale. Your phone."
Inside was a perfect replica—same model, same data, same everything.
Noah took it without comment.
Then his gaze shifted to Rodriguez.
"I heard you've been planning something."
Rodriguez straightened, clearly tense.
"Yes… I thought—"
He explained his idea carefully.
Step by step.
When he finished, the room felt noticeably heavier.
Noah tapped the table lightly, expression unreadable.
"…You made that decision on your own."
Rodriguez's face paled.
"I meant well," he said quickly. "It was for your benefit—"
"And you overstepped."
Noah's voice wasn't loud.
But it cut clean.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Intentions don't matter if the execution crosses the line."
Rodriguez bowed his head immediately.
"It won't happen again."
"Good."
Noah didn't linger.
The next moment—
He was gone.
Tony Stark glanced at the empty space and let out a breath.
"You can stop acting now," he said dryly. "He's not even here anymore."
Outside, Noah activated his new phone.
He dialed a number.
After a few rings, someone picked up.
"It's me," he said. "Noah."
A slight smile formed.
"Things have been busy. Finally got a moment to call. You're not mad, are you?"
There was a pause on the other end.
Then a soft voice.
"…No. Things have been a little chaotic here too."
Gwen.
She sounded tired.
"Perfect timing, then," Noah said. "It's the weekend. Let's get out for a bit."
A brief hesitation.
"…Alright."
The call ended.
Noah lowered the phone, a satisfied expression settling on his face.
Rodriguez's idea might have crossed a line—
But it had its uses.
And right now…
Everything was moving exactly the way he wanted.