There were many treasures scattered across the Marvel universe, and Alex had long known that. So, to him, getting this pair of hollow vibranium-alloy gloves—personally shaped by him no less—was like stumbling upon gold in a river. A pleasant surprise, sure, but more than that, a solid leap forward in power.
Still, the word vibranium inevitably brought one name to mind: Black Panther, and the hidden nation of Wakanda.
That mysterious land held Earth's only supply of vibranium—or so most believed. Black Panther's luxurious combat suit, entirely woven from the rare metal, made Alex glance down at his own modest gloves. His were just a pair of hollow shells. Useful, yes. Potent, definitely. But still, compared to a whole suit? He couldn't help but feel a tinge of envy.
But envy wasn't his style. Motivation was.
So, Alex remained on the spacecraft for a few more days. One reason was simple—he needed time to get comfortable with the feel and feedback of the gloves. Vibranium wasn't like steel or gold. It had a will of its own. Lightweight, but thunderous in power. Just channeling a thread of his metal manipulation through them created shocking ripples.
The second reason? He was pushing hard in his cultivation of the Sacred Heart Technique.
See, Armament Haki—the so-called "domineering aura"—wasn't something one needed to train directly. It came as a by-product, a fusion of spiritual power and internal strength. The stronger your core energy, the deeper your haki flowed. Simple cause and effect.
That's why the crystal measuring device monitored internal supernatural energy. And with Alex throwing himself heart and soul into the Sacred Heart Technique these past few days, his cultivation had rocketed forward. Like fire fed with dry twigs, his crystal points—the number indicating his supernatural energy—climbed fast and high.
Interestingly, he wasn't alone in this path.
Captain America—Steve Rogers himself—was also diving deep into haki cultivation. For a guy built in a lab, Steve had surprising talent. With his innate super-soldier physique and relentless will, he had reached 200 crystal points, and even more impressively, he was already knocking on the door of Armament Haki.
Two days. That's all it took. A testament to the potential of a true Avenger.
Alex was honestly looking forward to it. A Captain America with the physical mastery of One Piece's haki system? That combo sounded absolutely wicked. In the future, if Steve fully grasped Armament Haki and maybe even Observation, he'd become a walking storm on the battlefield.
Today, Alex remained aboard the floating behemoth of a spacecraft. As usual, he split his focus between meditation and refining his techniques.
His left hand wore that moon-white vibranium alloy glove, while his right gripped the Wushuang Sword—a blade that pulsed with unmatched sharpness. The swordsmanship of Dugu Jiujian, with its unpredictable, precise counters and devastating attacks, was no child's play.
But for Alex, every slash felt natural.
His insights into swordplay had grown by leaps and bounds. Ever since he absorbed that legendary 28GB trove of kendo techniques copied from Wuming, it was as if a river of knowledge had flooded his mind. Each memory byte refined his moves.
Whoosh!
He moved on instinct alone. The patterns of Dugu Jiujian danced through him like flowing water. A heavy swing of his Wushuang Sword cleaved the air—and an arc of sword energy shot forward.
Crack!
It sliced through a steel column as thick as an adult's arm—clean, perfect. The cross-section shimmered like a polished mirror.
Alex lowered the blade, eyes calm, lips curling into a satisfied nod. Yes, that's more like it.
Just then, a voice came from behind him, breaking his focused silence.
"Mr. Alex, Director Fury would like to see you."
The SHIELD agent stood at attention, polite but urgent.
Alex let out a breath of warm, turbid air. His brow raised. "Again?" he muttered.
Didn't Fury already meet with me a few days ago? Transferred me straight into the Avengers... so what's going on now?
A dozen guesses spun in his head—maybe higher-ups were applying pressure? Or perhaps Fury had another "top-secret" mission? Whatever it was, Alex nodded coolly and followed the agent without a word.
The spacecraft loomed above them like an airborne fortress. Alex stepped into the elevator with the agent, watching the numbers flicker as they descended to the deepest floor of the vessel.
Unlike the buzzing chaos of the command center above, the lower levels felt like a restricted zone—eerily quiet, insulated, and unnaturally still.
"Huh?" Alex blinked. "Fury called me here? In this deserted corner of the ship? What is this—an underground confession booth?"
The quiet of the lower floor wrapped around him like fog. Something was definitely off.
Before he could voice the unease rising in his chest, it happened.
Clack—clack—clack.
A dozen soldiers in black tactical gear stormed out from hidden compartments, rifles raised. No introductions. No warnings.
Da-da-da-da!
A rain of bullets screamed through the air toward Alex.
His reflexes kicked in like lightning. His left hand shot up, fingers twitching slightly—and just like that, the bullets froze mid-air, suspended like flies caught in syrup.
A metallic hum filled the space as the vibranium glove channeled his metal manipulation ability. The rifles twisted violently in the hands of the soldiers, then flew from their grips and hovered, aimed back at their original owners.
Hunter and prey—instantly swapped.
But the soldiers didn't hesitate. Not even for a heartbeat. They charged forward like programmed machines, eyes dead, lips sealed. Clearly, they had long made peace with death.
Alex frowned. "So it's like that, huh?"
He raised one of the floating rifles and pulled the trigger—BANG!
A single bullet struck one of the men in the chest. He crumpled, convulsed, and hit the ground, blood pooling fast. His breathing was faint... nearly gone.
"Cut off one head, and two more will grow... Long live Hydra..."
The dying soldier's final words slithered into the air like poison.
Alex's heart sank. Hydra? The cursed name echoed in his mind like a shadow he'd hoped to avoid.
He knew Hydra had infiltrated SHIELD. Fury had hinted at it before. But why now? And why him?
There was no time to figure that out. The others lunged at him like cornered beasts.
With a tired sigh, Alex clenched his right fist. No more fancy techniques. No blade. No blood.
Just fists.
He darted forward, hitting with precision—each punch enough to knock a man out cold, but without killing. One by one, the soldiers dropped, unconscious before they even hit the floor.
Up in the command center of the flying base, everything remained business as usual. The buzz of monitors, the chatter of agents—no sign of the chaos brewing below.
Captain America was off in a corner of the training bay, moving at near-invisible speeds. He was mastering shaving—the high-speed movement technique from the One Piece world.
Thanks to the super soldier serum, his physical abilities had already surpassed normal limits. With some effort, he had begun touching the threshold of Armament Haki. His movements were sharp, concise, and getting faster by the second.
Meanwhile, Tony Stark was deep in his workshop. Arc reactors pulsed and sparks flew as he tweaked the internal structure of his Iron Man suit, modifying the interface and framework to better accommodate the vibranium alloy gloves Alex had shaped for him.
Everyone was immersed in their own missions.
Beep—beep—BEEP!
The piercing alarm blared across the entire spacecraft, slicing through the silence like a dagger.
Instantly, the atmosphere shifted. Everyone froze mid-task.
In the command center, Director Fury narrowed his one good eye and said coolly, "What's that alarm?"
Agent Hill was already on it, fingers flying across the console. A second later, her face stiffened. "Director—it's coming from the warehouse on the ground floor."
Fury's expression darkened. "The warehouse!?"
That area was no ordinary storage unit. Down there, S.H.I.E.L.D. had been secretly developing weapon prototypes, reverse-engineered using energy from the Cosmic Cube. Most of them were unfinished, but even in that state, if exposed or misused, they could cause international outrage—or worse, a planetary incident.
Without wasting a second, Fury grabbed a squad of elite agents and stormed toward the warehouse. Behind them, Captain America and a few Avengers followed, alerted by the sirens and sensing the urgency.
The group descended in a rush. When the metal blast doors of the lower level hissed open, a grim sight greeted them.
Soldiers—scattered across the cold floor. Some merely unconscious. Others… not so lucky.
But one man stood tall amid the chaos.
Alex.
The air around him shimmered faintly from residual energy. His posture was calm but ready. The Wushuang Sword hung casually from his side, untouched since the skirmish.
Then came the voice. Weak, strained, but loud enough.
"Director! H-he… Alex tried to break into the warehouse and steal the prototypes! We tried to stop him, but—he turned on us!"
One of the surviving soldiers raised a trembling hand, blood dripping from his sleeve. His voice cracked, clearly desperate.
Crash!
In an instant, nearly every agent in the room turned, guns raised and trained directly on Alex.
The temperature seemed to drop.