Hawk had no idea how the Saints in the original stories trained.
After all, his memories of them came from anime.
But this wasn't a cartoon.
This was real life.
And as everyone knows
Stories need logic. Reality doesn't.
So...
After throwing ten thousand punches a day for a thousand consecutive days, Hawk had long since mastered this basic form to its absolute peak.
There's a saying:
"If someone draws their sword a hundred thousand times, they'll master the Sky-Cleaving Blade."
Well, Hawk didn't just draw his sword he threw punches. Hundreds of thousands of them.
And once he completed the activation task for the Microcosm Cultivation System, something inside him changed. His punch had evolved qualitatively.
Sonic Punch.
A technique that let him accelerate his strike to the speed of sound. And with the Microcosm burning inside him, it might even push past that limit.
What does it mean to throw a sonic punch?
It means you feel the pain first... then hear the sound of the blow.
That's a sonic punch.
Boom!
A Chitauri aircraft exploded overhead, debris raining down. At the last second, one of their squad captains leaped clear of the blast, landing hard on the war-torn street.
He gripped a weapon that pulsed with eerie green light less a gun, more a spear-like staff and glared at the shirtless young man before him.
That man was Hawk.
His well-worn T-shirt had finally met its end, shredded by flying rubble from the explosion. But Hawk didn't care.
Wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants and scuffed sneakers, he actually felt stronger than before.
And it wasn't just in his head.
Everyone knows the rule:
Ripped shirt = Power boost.
"Human," growled the Chitauri captain, gripping his green-glowing spear.
His wide-set insectoid eyes glinted behind a visor as he locked onto Hawk.
Onboard the Chitauri mothership, deep in space beyond the wormhole, a tactical feed flickered to life.
Hawk's image was now being broadcast across the alien fleet.
Hawk glanced at the alien warrior, then smiled and tilted his head.
He raised his right hand toward the Chitauri captain, fingers open...
Then slowly curled them into a fist
And beckoned.
No words. Just a challenge.
"Come."
"You'll die!" the captain snarled.
Humiliated by the gesture, he launched forward with a burst of speed, his boots shattering the concrete beneath him.
As he closed in, the tip of his spear began to flare, unleashing wave after wave of green energy bolts.
But Hawk didn't flinch.
He pushed off with both feet, cracking the street as he surged forward, a golden blur tearing across the battlefield.
In the lore, once a Saint awakens their Microcosm, receives the blessing of their constellation, and dons the sacred Cloth of their Zodiac, their body transcends human limits.
Their defense becomes near-impenetrable.
Their speed reaches and even surpasses the speed of sound.
Even their lifespan grows longer than any ordinary human.
Hawk hadn't yet received his constellation's mark.
He hadn't glimpsed the Cloth.
But awakening the Microcosm alone... had already changed him.
He was no longer just a man.
Suddenly
The Chitauri captain's expression twisted.
Mid-charge, he jerked, eyes wide, and vomited a mouthful of glowing green blood.
The force of it knocked his metal mask clean off, revealing a grotesque insectoid face beneath.
The sound of a fist crashing through the air finally reached him.
Too late.
BOOM.
The captain looked down.
A golden fist had pierced his armor and buried itself in his chest.
He let out a gurgled cry, a half-choked roar that was neither rage nor meaning just noise.
He tried to raise his head...
To see the human who had just killed him in a single strike.
But he didn't make it.
The moment Hawk pulled his arm free, the world turned black.
With a final twitch, the Chitauri captain crumpled like a dead beetle, crashing into the debris-strewn street.
As the body fell, Hawk casually reached out and caught the alien spear before it hit the ground.
It was a strange weapon.
Filled with flowing green liquid energy, it glowed faintly in his hand.
He gave it a little spin, weighing it.
Then a thought struck him.
How much could this go for on the black market?
An alien energy weapon… that's gotta be worth something, right?
He glanced toward the ruins of the apartment building.
Earlier, while moving bodies, he'd tossed four alien rifles into a deep crater nearby.
Just then
Out of the corner of his eye, Hawk saw a sudden burst of brilliant blue light in the Manhattan sky.
He turned.
The towering pillar of eerie blue that had pierced the heavens just moments ago was gone.
The massive rift above Earth the wormhole was now closing... fast.
"That's it?"
"It's over?"
"The whole Chitauri invasion… already done?"
Hawk blinked.
He almost wanted to say, If I'd known they were this weak, I wouldn't have stressed so much...
But then his gaze swept across the wreckage
The shattered buildings.
The scorched pavement.
The scattered limbs.
And the words caught in his throat.
It wasn't that the Chitauri were weak.
He had grown stronger.
"If I hadn't awakened my Microcosm at just the right moment..."
"...some of those body parts might've been mine."
His eyes settled on a severed arm lying not far from where he stood.
The thought hit hard.
That's when Hawk knew, beyond all doubt
He had to get stronger.
Stronger still.
Not for glory.
Not for revenge.
But for one simple reason:
So he could one day look fate in the eye and say
"My fate is mine. Not Heaven's."
But first things first...
He needed to stash the five alien weapons he'd collected and figure out how to sell them.
Cash from that could really change his life.