Lightning Thomson and Nerd Parker (Signed, please collect!)

One thousand days.

Two years, nine months, and five days.

Having finished today's task, Hawk was showering in the gym locker room when he once again called up the cheat interface visible only to himself. Staring at the progress bar that needed just one more day to reach completion and activate Cosmo Cultivation, he still felt like he was dreaming.

After all...

Throwing ten thousand punches a day, nonstop for a thousand days—easy to say, but hell to do.

Sometimes Hawk himself didn't know how he'd managed to stick with it.

Maybe it was because he was naturally the type who refused to lose?

Or maybe it had something to do with this being the Marvel Universe.

Hawk didn't know.

But...

One thing was certain.

"One day."

"Just one more day."

Once today was over, tomorrow he could activate the cheat.

"Cosmo Cultivation..."

"I wonder if it's the one I'm thinking of."

Hawk mused.

In his memory, there was only one thing that could be linked to Cosmo Cultivation.

If it really was what he thought it was.

Then...

The future was bright!

According to the ancient Greek philosopher Democritus, everything is made of atoms, and within the human body exists a miniature universe.

A Cosmo!

And cultivating the Cosmo meant constantly tapping into one's own life-source energy, successfully awakening the hidden Cosmo within, then refining and elevating it through relentless training, and finally burning that Cosmo to gain combat power that defied the laws of physics.

Hawk recalled a certain anime from his past life that depicted exactly that.

The name of that anime was—

Saint Seiya!

Bronze Saints who controlled the five senses and touched the Sixth Sense.

Silver Saints who had comprehended the Sixth Sense and touched the Seventh Sense.

And Gold Saints who had comprehended and fully mastered the Seventh Sense.

But beyond the Seventh Sense lay the Eighth Sense, and even the Ninth Sense...

Fragmented images of that Saint Seiya anime flickered through Hawk's mind.

The next second.

Hawk snapped back to reality, as if something had occurred to him, and couldn't help but shake his head with a wry smile.

He wasn't even sure if this Cosmo from his cheat was the one he remembered—why overthink it?

Besides...

He had no grand ambitions like punching Odin or kicking Zeus.

Most importantly.

He had already been transmigrated into this world for seventeen years. Even before his cheat came online at age fifteen, he had mentally prepared himself to face this bloody world without any external help.

So...

"Mindset is everything."

"The more I expect now, the harder I'll fall if it turns out not to be what I think."

With that thought, Hawk brushed aside the clutter in his mind, wrung out the washed T-shirt in his hands, and placed it in a plastic bag alongside his freshly washed pants. Then, wrapping a towel around himself and drying his hair with another, he pushed open the stall door.

Thud!

The locker room door was shoved open, and a thin, wiry figure was pushed in from outside.

The figure stumbled a few steps before landing on his ass on the tiled floor.

"That's..."

"Peter?"

Hawk raised an eyebrow at the original Spider-Man, who had just been shoved in and was now sitting on the ground.

Peter looked up and saw Hawk emerging from the shower.

His expression was a little awkward.

Just as he was about to greet Hawk—someone in the same grade but someone he'd never really interacted with—laughter rang out from outside the door.

Then, Flash Thompson, known by the nickname "Flash" and also the epithet "Midtown Bully," a big, tall guy and captain of the school's football team, walked in with a football tucked under his arm, his three lackeys laughing behind him.

The next second.

The laughter cut off.

Hawk, who had just stepped out of the shower stall, one hand drying his wet hair with a towel, the other holding a plastic bag of washed clothes, and a towel wrapped around his lower half, also fixed his gaze on Flash Thompson as he entered.

Flash Thompson was big and tall.

Hawk was no slouch either.

Having kept up a routine of ten thousand punches a day for nine hundred and ninety-nine consecutive days, Hawk was packed with lean, hard muscle.

And this wasn't like the muscle pumped up at the gym with tech and chemicals.

The lines of his arms were full of power—not exaggeratedly bulging, but refined, bursting with explosive strength.

The towel was tied around his waist, pressing a shallow indent just above his hip bone, making his waist look even narrower. The outline of his abs was clearly visible, eight neat rows like carefully carved armor.

Their eyes met.

The air seemed to freeze in that moment.

Everyone knew.

In American schools, there was a clear chain of contempt—or bullying.

Logically speaking, Hawk, starting from scratch as an orphan with no parents, should have been in the bullied camp just based on his background.

But that wasn't the case.

It wasn't that he'd tangled with the school bullies before and they knew he wasn't easy to mess with.

The reason the school bullies didn't bother him was simple.

After all...

Whether in terms of looks or physique, Hawk, no matter how you looked at it, didn't fit the description of "easy to push around."

Of course.

In the three years since, the school bullies had never come after him, and he hadn't felt the need to stand up for anyone else either.

No one was anyone's savior.

This time was no different.

Hawk looked away, pulled a clean T-shirt and pants from his backpack on the rest bench, put them on, then stuffed the plastic bag into his backpack, slung it over one shoulder, and walked toward Flash Thompson, who was standing at the entrance of the locker room.

Flash Thompson frowned, watching Hawk approach him.

He knew who Hawk was.

After all, it was hard not to notice someone who showed up every day in the corner of the gym, throwing ten thousand punches on his own, and had been doing it for over two years.

But as for being familiar? Not at all.

Because Hawk never joined any gatherings or parties. Though he was seen at school every day, he seemed to live in his own parallel world.

Flash Thompson watched Hawk stop in front of him.

"Hawk—"

"Excuse me."

"..."

Flash Thompson instinctively stepped aside. His three lackeys wanted to say something, but the moment they met Hawk's blue eyes—eyes that seemed indifferent to everything—they too obeyed their gut and shuffled aside.

"Thanks."

Hawk looked at Flash Thompson, who had made way, said a calm "thanks," and then walked out of the locker room on his own.

Flash Thompson stared at Hawk's retreating figure, frowning, lost in thought.

Just then.

One of the lackeys let out a shout.

"Holy shit."

"Boss, Peter's gone."

"What?"

Flash Thompson snapped back to reality, saw Peter Parker slipping out behind Hawk while he wasn't paying attention, and immediately roared.

"After him."

"Nerd Parker, stop right there."

"..."