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*****
"No, please—don't!"
BOOM!
The deafening explosion of dynamite shattered the air. Thick smoke and flames erupted in tandem. Inside the cabin, chaos reigned—shouts, curses, sobbing, wailing, and piercing screams blended into a nightmarish chorus.
"Unit Three, fall back. Mission complete."
A burly man dressed in black, his face marked by a savage scar, gave the order to another similarly imposing figure beside him.
"Yes, Captain," the man addressed as "Unit Three" replied swiftly.
The two then stood before the gaping hole they had blown in the fuselage, leapt out, and vanished into the endless night—leaving behind hundreds of passengers teetering on the edge of collapse.
"Captain! Captain!"
A flight attendant in uniform screamed at the bleeding pilot slumped before her, desperately trying to rouse him—as though clinging to a final thread of hope.
Her shaking caused the pilot's bleeding to worsen.
In despair, the flight attendant pulled out her phone and shakily typed a short line in English:
"Mom, I love you."
She then clutched the phone tightly to her chest, hoping at least a trace of her would survive the crash.
Ahead lay towering mountains. The looming specter of death spread over the passengers like a dark curtain. The cabin fell suddenly silent—only the desperate calls from the control tower echoed faintly.
Following the attendant's instructions, the passengers clasped their heads and curled into tight balls, hoping it might preserve something of their remains.
Almost every soul on board was praying—for a miracle, no matter how improbable, to spare their lives.
CRACK!
Suddenly, a booming sound reverberated in their hearts. A strange, calming force soothed their restless fear. They looked up—and what they saw left them speechless.
Light.
Radiant as the sun, brilliant light filled the sky, banishing the night and turning darkness into dazzling daylight. The fire and smoke from the engines vanished. A gentle, comforting force stirred a feeling long forgotten—hope.
Through the torn fuselage, everyone witnessed a sight they would never forget.
A massive silver giant, glowing with brilliant light, floated outside the aircraft, holding it gently with one enormous hand.
But this towering form didn't bring dread. Instead, a profound warmth spread through everyone's hearts. Unbidden, a single word came to mind:
"Divine."
"A god has descended. His light shall shine forever upon this world!"
A middle-aged man, dressed like a priest, stood up and declared fanatically.
He then dropped to his knees, mumbling prayers in total reverence.
The plane trembled slightly, snapping the passengers out of their stupor.
The giant silver figure gazed into the cabin. The warm glow from his body brightened, as if in response.
Then, in the blink of an eye, he lifted off.
With a sonic boom, he rocketed into the sky—disappearing into the deep, endless night.
Everyone watched in stunned silence, eyes locked on the direction he vanished—no one noticing the bloodied captain's eyelids twitching, ever so slightly.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters
Nick Fury, his one eye sharp and contemplative, stared at the crisp photograph of the silver giant on his desk. A deep tremor of awe flickered in his gaze. His fingers brushed over an outdated pager tucked in his pocket—but he didn't use it.
"A god? Or an alien?"
The questions swirled in Fury's mind, but no one was around to give him answers.
"Commander Fury, the Security Council is calling!"
The sudden interruption jarred him from his thoughts. Hearing the caller's identity, he frowned, hesitated for a moment, and finally nodded.
"Put it through."
"Commander Fury, regarding the terrorist attack on the plane yesterday—you must bear some responsibility. Furthermore—"
Click.
Fury ended the call before the Council member could finish.
Terrorist attacks were the FBI's problem. The Security Council loved to use S.H.I.E.L.D. as a scapegoat, but Fury had enough on his plate with the silver giant. He had no time for political games.
"Coulson, send a team. I want every scrap of information from survivors about that silver giant. I need details."
"Yes, sir."
Coulson acknowledged and turned to issue the orders.
Not just S.H.I.E.L.D.—the entire world had been thrown into a frenzy trying to uncover the identity of the silver giant.
Some called him the embodiment of light, the savior of mankind.
Others claimed he was a cunning demon, saving lives only to deceive the ignorant.
Some believed he was an alien—sent to colonize Earth.
There were even rumors he was an American superweapon built to dominate the globe.
Speculation ran wild across the internet.
And the very cause of it all? He was completely unbothered—quietly enjoying his morning tea.
Noah Psychological Clinic
This oddly named, sparsely furnished clinic belonged to a tall, handsome Chinese youth, who was meticulously arranging his tea set.
As the rich aroma of tea filled the room, a calm spirit washed over him. He took a symbolic breath, sipped delicately, and exhaled deeply in contentment.
"Nothing beats tea. American-style coffee can shove off."
This was Ji Yuan, owner of the clinic.
Once an ordinary, upstanding young man, an accident had flung him into the world of Marvel.
As for how it happened—well, like many others before him, he was hit by an interdimensional truck and woke up in another world. Still, his experience had its own quirks.
That day, after work, on a whim, he bought a Noah Ultraman figure. He never got to play with it—because he got isekai'd instead.
However, perhaps due to that purchase, Ji Yuan gained his own golden finger: the power to transform into Noah Ultraman—though currently, he could only transform into the juvenile Nexus form.
To say he could "transform" might be misleading. He was Ultraman. He didn't need any device to morph. When he wanted to, he simply changed—his human form was more of a disguise.
His only problem now was this: Ji Yuan had collected a lot of data, but still didn't know which Marvel universe he was in.
If it was the MCU, his current strength gave him a decent edge. But if it was the comics universe, full of reality-warpers and omnipotents—he'd be in real trouble unless his evolution progressed further.
With a thought, a panel appeared before him. Don't misunderstand—this wasn't some system interface. He'd simply cobbled together a makeshift progress board to track his evolution.
[Evolution Stages: Juvenile → Adult → Complete → Ultimate]
[Current Stage: Juvenile (13%)]
[Skills: Splitting Light Wheel, Specium Ray, Ultra Barrier, Vertical Slash Line, Cross Beam Storm, Evolutionary Light Stream…]
"Looks like saving those people yesterday gave me a good boost in positive emotions."
The data was clear. His evolution had four stages. Ji Yuan knew the "Complete Form" was already the Noah form—but some instinct told him there was still something beyond: an Ultimate Form. What it looked like, though, he didn't yet know.
Just like Noah represented hope, any positive emotion—anticipation, gratitude, inspiration—could fuel his evolution.
But why did a juvenile Ultraman like Ji Yuan have access to so many other Ultraman abilities?
Well, as everyone knows—Noah is a willpower-based Ultraman. As long as Ji Yuan imagined the basics, his will did the rest. Sure, his version of the powers might differ from the originals, but something was better than nothing.
Knock, knock.
A sudden knock on the door snapped Ji Yuan back to reality.
A bald woman was already standing at the entrance.
(End of chapter)