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"Don't give in! The Chaste has never feared death!"
Stone roared defiantly his voice muffled from having his face shoved into the concrete.
But Nolan only kept his gaze on Stick.
He knew these Chaste warriors were fanatics. He couldn't guarantee they'd cave over the life of a teammate.
Besides, after what happened to Matt Murdock, there was no reconciling with the Chaste. He was already their sworn enemy.
Trying to negotiate was pointless.
Maybe it was best to capture all of them and deal with the rest later.
Unlike his past experiences with biotech and physical augmentation, Nolan had never worked directly with mystical forces before. With the Super Soldier Serum program, he'd been on solid ground he understood biology and physics. But mysticism? That was a whole different frontier.
He already had Elektra and was about to secure Iron Fist.
Whether he needed the others was still up for debate. Even Stone with his hardened skin, Flame, and his pyrokinetic, or Feather with flight all of that seemed secondary.
What truly intrigued him was the meditation technique they practiced.
It seemed to be the foundation of their powers.
He suspected their superhuman abilities stemmed from this method of unlocking the body's latent potential.
If he could acquire that system—it would be a major leap forward in his research into the mystic arts.
Stick, ever perceptive, could tell Nolan wasn't bluffing.
He watched Stone's head gradually sink deeper into the ground beneath Nolan's foot.
"Stick! Let's fight him now!" Flame snarled, conjuring flames into his hands.
"Fight?" Nolan laughed coldly. "With what, exactly?"
He raised his foot higher, pressure building.
"I'll count to three. If I don't get an answer… no one walks away."
"One."
"You let him go first, and I'll give you what you want," Stick finally said.
"You think you can negotiate from a position like this?"
Nolan's voice turned icy as his foot pressed harder.
"Two."
As he lifted his leg for the final stomp, Stick called out, "Fine!"
"But what if… you can't even learn it?" Stick added.
"I don't fail," Nolan said without hesitation. "There's nothing I can't master."
The others in the Chaste stared at him, stunned by his arrogance.
Stick let out a short, bitter laugh. "Even Matt… took nearly six months to grasp it."
"Then let me be the exception."
"Can you at least remove your foot first?"
"Sure."
Nolan eased off the pressure, allowing Stone to yank his head out from the pavement and retreat behind Stick, his bloodshot eyes fixed hatefully on Nolan.
Stick exhaled, then began explaining.
"The meditation method we use—it's not just breathing. It's a discipline that unlocks the body's hidden reserves. The root of all our abilities."
He knelt amid the ruins of the battlefield and began to demonstrate.
Nolan listened intently.
Stick explained how this method was derived from ancient Hand teachings adapted, purified, and improved by the Chaste over centuries. Every member of the Chaste trained in it. It was the foundation behind their extraordinary senses, hardened bodies, elemental powers even flight.
Stick began guiding Nolan through the rhythm of the breath.
Slow. Controlled. Deep. Then shallower. Then empty.
It wasn't just breathing it was alignment. The breath controlled the mind. The mind, the body.
And emptying the mind was the true hurdle.
Stick warned him it took months, sometimes years, to master. That's why members of the Chaste gave up their emotions. Emotional attachments got in the way of true detachment.
But Nolan?
He followed Stick's cadence effortlessly.
His learning ability was monstrous.
He adjusted his breathing rhythm within moments.
As for emptying the mind?
That was the easiest part of all.
Stick had barely finished the first stage when he stopped mid-sentence.
Because Nolan's breathing had already slowed to perfect rhythm.
He had entered a meditative state.
His body relaxed, and a strange stillness fell over him—like he had vanished into himself.
Stick removed his sunglasses, stunned.
The others stared wide-eyed.
"He… he mastered it? Just from a single demonstration?" Starblade murmured.
He'd spent a full year just learning the basics.
But Nolan had entered the state in less than two minutes.
Then Nolan opened his eyes.
"You can all leave. I'm in a good mood today," he said casually. "Your technique's not bad."
"And for the record, Bullseye killed Daredevil, not me. I just handed Matt over to Bullseye and Fisk."
"If you're looking for vengeance, try them first."
As he spoke, Nolan's voice remained calm, detached.
He'd already memorized the breathing patterns. Every interval, every phase.
His ability to focus to detach from the world allowed him to drop into a meditative state without effort.
And in that state… something had changed.
He could feel his body like never before. Every cell. Every muscle.
He could manipulate their rhythm. Strengthen them. Densify them.
It was like becoming his own biological instrument.
This was just the beginning.
He looked away from the Chaste and toward Max's fight with Iron Fist.
Danny was clearly struggling.
Despite years of training and the full legacy of K'un-Lun behind him, he was getting pushed further and further back by Max's relentless assault.
Nolan gave the order.
"That's enough, Max. Finish it."
Lightning surged.
Max released a burst of terrifying voltage.
Danny's fists flared with golden fire chi manifesting into blazing strikes.
BOOM!
Electricity exploded. Max was thrown backward.
Danny stood his ground, trembling, barely conscious… but smiling.
Had he survived?
He watched as Max rose to his feet—completely unharmed.
Danny collapsed, unconscious, in disbelief.
Max dragged him over to Nolan and dropped him at his feet. "Boss, target secured."
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