"I—I'm sorry."
Jessica lowered her head, her face turning crimson. "I… I zoned out."
"It's fine."
Antony patted her shoulder magnanimously. "I know—sometimes my charm can be… distracting."
"Again."
Antony stepped in close once more.
"This time, we'll practice push hands."
They stood face to face.
Palms touching.
"Feel my force… here it comes."
Antony's palm rotated against hers, spiraling, coiling, guiding.
It was an intimately ambiguous movement.
The distance between them—less than 10 centimeters.
Their breaths tangled.
Jessica could even count the long lashes framing Antony's eyes.
As she looked at him, the solid defensive wall she'd built inside herself began to crumble—bit by bit.
So this is what it feels like…
To be enveloped by the presence of a true powerhouse?
Is this… what people call a sense of safety?
She stopped resisting.
Instinctively—she began to follow his rhythm.
In that moment, the training room turned into a dance floor.
…
"Beep—!"
The training hall's electronic door slid open at the worst possible time.
"Sir! The lab has—"
Ashley came rushing in on high heels, brisk and purposeful.
Then she froze.
She looked at Jessica—flushed, sweating, breathing hard—
Then at Antony, gripping Jessica's wrist, his face barely 10 centimeters from hers.
Her expression became… spectacularly complicated.
"Uh…" Ashley adjusted her glasses awkwardly. "Did I… come at a bad time? I can come back in ten minutes."
"No," Antony said calmly, releasing Jessica. He picked up a towel and wiped his forehead—despite not a single drop of sweat.
"You came at the perfect time. Training's over. Jessica, go take a shower. You smell like a drifter."
"Fuck you, Starr!"
Jessica grabbed her towel and shot him a fierce glare—though her tone lacked its usual bite.
"Same time tomorrow!" she called out at the door, not daring to look back.
"Ding! Special Popularity Value +3000!"
Listening to the pleasant system chime, Antony smiled in satisfaction.
Once Jessica disappeared into the locker room, he turned to Ashley.
"So," he said. "What is it?"
Ashley immediately snapped back into professional mode, lowering her voice, her expression grave.
"Sir. It's Dr. Connor. The lab… has results."
Antony's towel froze mid-motion.
The Compound V—No. Five—he'd drawn from the blind box.
He'd sent it directly to Starr Group's laboratories.
Antony tossed the towel aside.
"Take me to the lab."
…
Starr Group — Life Sciences Division, Underground Core Facility
This was Starr Group's most classified location.
Security clearance here surpassed even Vought's headquarters.
Without fingerprint, iris scan, gait recognition, and DNA verification, not even a fly could get in.
Antony changed into a white lab coat and entered the temperature-controlled laboratory.
An elderly man with graying hair and thick glasses sat amid a forest of complex instruments, his expression equal parts fanaticism and exhaustion.
Dr. John Connor.
A founding member of Starr Group.
A college classmate of Antony's father.
A world-class expert in bioengineering and genetics—and someone who had watched Antony grow up.
"Antony. You're here."
"Doctor."
Antony stepped forward, rare respect in his tone. "Looks like you pulled an all-nighter."
"It was worth it, my boy. Absolutely worth it."
Dr. Connor pointed at the blue liquid beneath the microscope—the raw serum Antony had delivered.
"This thing… it's divine craftsmanship."
His voice trembled. "This molecular structure. This energy density. It violates everything we know about biology. It can rewrite DNA—grant cells nearly limitless energy."
"Can you replicate it?" Antony cut straight to the point.
Dr. Connor's gaze dimmed.
"No."
He shook his head, sighing.
"It's too perfect. The synthesis process exceeds our current technological understanding. Several catalytic elements don't even exist on Earth… I suspect it wasn't created under the physical laws of this universe."
As expected.
System-created items were never meant to be cracked by Earth's science.
Antony showed no disappointment.
"So this is bad news?"
"No."
Dr. Connor's tone suddenly shifted, a spark lighting his eyes.
"It's simply reality. While we can't recreate the perfect original… we did reverse-engineer part of its activation mechanism."
He pressed a button.
A robotic arm slid over with a metal tray.
Neatly arranged atop it were rows of glass vials.
The liquid inside wasn't pure blue—but a faintly glowing emerald green.
"What's this?" Antony picked one up.
"We call it… T-Vex," Dr. Connor explained.
"We can't stabilize permanent genetic rewriting. The original's energy is too strong—force replication causes subjects to explode within three seconds."
"So we diluted it. Added an inhibitor. Turned it into a temporary state."
Antony studied the green vial, eyes narrowing.
"Effects?"
"Extraordinary."
Dr. Connor pulled up data.
"Within ten seconds of injection, an ordinary human gains superhuman physicality. Strength increases twenty to fifty times. Skin hardness resists 9mm rounds. Pain response is dampened. Adrenaline skyrockets."
"Some individuals may even trigger minor abilities—sparks from the hands, or brief high-voltage discharges."
"Duration?"
"Twenty minutes total."
Dr. Connor spread his hands.
"After ten minutes, the effects rapidly decline. Extreme exhaustion and hunger follow."
"Side effects?" Antony asked—the real question.
Dr. Connor's expression turned solemn.
"That's the biggest issue, Antony."
"This energy is toxic to the human body. The inhibitor only delays the damage—it can't remove it. The rest depends on natural metabolism."
"One vial within 24 hours causes no lasting harm. Two in succession halves the enhancement and heavily burdens internal organs."
"And three?"
Dr. Connor adjusted his glasses.
"The immune system develops permanent resistance. Meaning… future injections are as effective as drinking water. In severe cases, genetic chain collapse may occur."
"And production?" Antony pressed.
"Extremely difficult. Requires purification of specific isotopes. Even at full classified production capacity, daily output is only… 100 vials."
"100…"
Antony rolled the green vial between his fingers.
A 20-minute Hulk experience card.
Low yield. Drug resistance. Side effects.
On the surface, a defective product.
But in Antony's eyes—there was no such thing as useless inventory.
Viewed from another angle—
This was a perfect product.
--------------
T/N:
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