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Chapter 61 – The Morning After
Adrien woke with a low, pained grunt.
Every muscle felt torn. His ribs prickled with each breath. His arms felt like they'd been used as battering rams—because in a way, they had. It took him half a minute just to sit up.
He stumbled into the bathroom and splashed cold water onto his face.
Behind his reflection, the kwamis swirled like a small, impatient storm.
They didn't wait long.
Pollen hovered timidly.
"I still can't believe that after all Aryan prepared, the rings still ended up in the wrong hands…"
Trixx scoffed.
"Wrong hands? It was inevitable. Those rings should've never had another host in the first place. Aryan should've destroyed them."
Wayzz floated beside Adrien with calm, ancient patience.
"He believed the world needed a protector. With the Order gone, he relied on the trials he created to turn the next Mandarin into a worthy successor. Destroying the rings would've erased a safeguard the world still needed."
Stompp huffed, tiny arms crossed.
"Safeguard? He wasted decades making tests instead of rebuilding the Order. And giving the grimoire to Nisha Khan instead of his own student, Su-Han? What was he thinking?"
Tikki finally cut in with a tired sigh.
"You're forgetting—Aryan was never trained for the Guardian role. He couldn't read the advanced sections of the grimoire. And we kwamis are forbidden to learn it, so no corrupted holder can ever force the knowledge out of us."
She floated closer to the mirror.
"After the Order fell, no one alive could decipher it. That's why he passed it on—to keep the secrets out of reach. The grimoire wasn't a gift. It was a warning."
Trixx muttered,
"Writing one dramatic fight scene in a book and calling it a warning… real effective."
Adrien groaned and pressed his fingers to his temples.
"Guys. Please. My skeleton is currently rebelling. Not now."
They quieted—mostly—while he brushed his teeth at half-speed.
He knew the legends.
The Cat Guardian.
The first Mandarin heir.
That ancient fight he'd glimpsed with Bunnyx in the timeless zone.
But the Mandarin from his old world? Just comics and a vague memory of a Shang-Chi villain. Nothing useful now.
He limped downstairs.
---
Kitchen
Natalie cooked with her usual quiet efficiency. She didn't look at him, but the subtle tension in her shoulders showed she'd already noticed the injuries.
The TV murmured behind them:
> "—heroic rescue of the President—coordinated response by Iron Man, Captain America, Black Widow, and the Guardian—"
A drone shot of the obliterated dockyard filled the screen.
Flashes of molten metal.
Air ripping with heat.
Extremis soldiers screaming.
Adrien looked away.
Then came the memory of the cleanup—
S.H.I.E.L.D. sweeping the wreckage, DODC trucks rolling in, agents dragging cuffed Extremis survivors into transports.
Adrien slipped away the moment questioning ended.
Back at base, he'd found two trackers stuck to his suit.
He peeled them off and flicked them aside.
"Try harder."
But the fight with Mandarin haunted him. He compared it to the battle between the previous Mandarin and the Cat Guardian.
That power.
That overwhelming force.
The fight he'd seen in the timeless zone—he wasn't on that level yet.
He needed more. More control. More training.
More understanding of Miraculous evolution—concepts, amplifications, Cataclysm variants, removing time limits… everything.
His phone buzzed.
Ned.
Adrien answered, voice flat.
"Yeah?"
"Bro. You alive? I've been calling nonstop. You wanna hang out? I have something insane to show you."
Adrien hesitated—training or normal life?
He exhaled.
"…Yeah. I'll come."
Natalie placed breakfast on the counter. No questions. No scolding. Just a brief, soft look that disappeared a second later.
Somehow, that helped.
---
S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ – Briefing Room
Natasha stood with military precision. Fury looked annoyed enough to bite through the tablet in his hand.
"So both Killian and the Mandarin escaped?" Fury muttered. "What do we know about the Spot guy?"
Maria Hill projected a hologram.
"Identity strongly matches Dr. Jonathan Ohnn. MIT graduate. Engineering Ph.D. Worked for Wilson Fisk. Missing for three years."
Fury frowned.
"…That's it?"
"That's all we found."
He sighed sharply.
"Fine. Romanoff—Guardian update."
Natasha stepped forward.
"During the mission, Mayura teleported us to a hidden facility—later confirmed as Guardian's base. Based on the systems running, they're operating at a tech level equal to ours."
Fury nodded.
"I planted trackers on the base, Guardian, and Mayura. All destroyed within an hour. Last ping was the Sahara Desert."
Fury cracked a thin smirk.
"Even ghosts slip once."
He set down the tablet.
"Now talk Miraculous."
Natasha explained:
"The one I used was the Dragon Miraculous. It boosts all physical attributes and grants three elemental forms: water, wind, and lightning. Functionally, think Spider-Man with elemental control."
Fury raised an eyebrow.
"Any downsides?"
"None. But the enhancement is a multiplier. The stronger the user already is, the more absurd the transformation becomes."
Fury narrowed his eye.
"Example."
"Steve," she said plainly.
"His transformation left me completely outclassed. The increase wasn't linear—it was exponential."
Fury absorbed that.
"So where does Guardian sit?"
"Last night, he fought at Steve's transformed level. Meaning his base strength is comparable to Captain America."
Fury leaned back.
"And Mayura?"
"When transformed, she operates around Thor or calm-Hulk levels. And teleportation makes her extremely dangerous."
Natasha added:
"Base strength is probably around Spider-Man's. With the multiplier, she becomes monstrous."
Fury rubbed his forehead.
"Add it to their files. Anything else?"
"No."
"Dismissed."
Natasha left.
Fury glared at the screen.
Magic.
He hated magic.
---
Unknown Location – Mandarin's Base
Dim lanterns flickered, casting jagged shadows across cracked stone walls.
Mandarin stood still, armor fractured and faintly glowing. A vial of golden serum shimmered on the table.
Temugin faced him—calm, composed, resolute.
Between them, Zhang stepped in, shoulders tight, voice strained.
"You really mean to turn against me?"
Temugin didn't flinch.
"I mean to avenge my mother. That isn't betrayal."
His tone sharpened.
"That's justice."
Mandarin watched silently, unreadable.
Only the rings pulsed—unstable, hungry—casting fractured shapes across the chamber.
The tension thickened.
The air hummed.
Lights trembled.
Fade out.
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