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---
Nolan dripped the dark serum onto his wrist.
A surge of searing heat exploded outward, flooding through his veins. Instantly, a ravenous hunger gnawed at him as if his body demanded to devour the entire world.
But his cells, already reconstructed with the Power Stone's structure, absorbed energy from every dimension around him, converting it into radiation that quenched the hunger.
When the sensation passed, Nolan felt his powers surge once again. More than that there was something new.
It was like fitting puzzle pieces together. Each gene he had harvested from others was one fragment, combined into the whole.
Normally, such incompatible forces would have torn anyone else apart. But Nolan's Spirit of Evolution acted as glue, fusing them seamlessly.
Yet even that fusion had left small flaws and imperfections he had long ignored. The Zombie Gladiator's genome had corrected them, making his body feel natural, as though the powers had always been his.
Only the Power of the Dragon still stood out, foreign and mismatched.
"I'll have to deal with the Dragon's power," Nolan thought.
"Either cut it out… or claim its source for myself."
The choice was obvious. Unlike the last Iron Fist who abandoned Shou-Lao's gift when he inherited the Phoenix Force, Nolan intended to claim the Dragon's origin as his own.
And to do that, he needed to go to K'un-Lun.
---
Besides the time shuttle, Nolan turned to Reed Richards.
"Based on the coordinates I gave you how soon can you lock onto the Zombie Universe?"
"Nearly there," Reed replied, eyes on the console. "Seven days at most."
The coordinates came from Nolan's work with the Time and Space Stones, decoding the cosmic signals hidden within the Zombie Gladiator's body, then cross-referenced with the dimensional maps from Universe 199999-A's Tony Stark.
Seven days would be enough. Enough time to settle K'un-Lun.
---
The Himalayas.
Deep in the mountains lay the legendary city of K'un-Lun, a pocket dimension accessible only once every ten years when its gateway opened.
Inside, ancient palaces stood atop mountains that pierced the clouds. Courtyards rang with the disciplined strikes of warrior-monks training under the watchful eyes of masters.
In the grand hall, an elder in golden robes sat upon a throne. He was the Yu-Ti, spiritual ruler of K'un-Lun.
"Lei-Kung, where is the Iron Fist?" Yu-Ti's brow furrowed. "By tradition, he should have returned already. The Tournament of the Seven Capital Cities is about to begin."
The Seven Cities of Heaven were hidden realms scattered across Earth. Every 88 years, they merged to form the Heavenly Capital, where their greatest warriors, the Immortal Weapons, fought in the sacred tournament.
Iron Fist was K'un-Lun's champion. Historically, they had dominated the tournament, securing K'un-Lun's place as the foremost of the Seven Cities. But if the Iron Fist failed to appear, their honor would crumble.
Lei-Kung held up his phone, his expression grim.
"I've lost contact with him. It's been some time."
"Could something have happened to him?" Yu-Ti asked, worried. Without an Iron Fist, the mantle might take decades to pass to a new successor.
"Should I consult Shou-Lao?" Lei-Kung offered.
"There's no need," came a cold voice that cut through the hall.
Both men snapped to attention, summoning chi as protective auras shimmered around their bodies.
From the air itself, a figure stepped out of nothingness his form first a painting on reality, then solid flesh and blood.
"Iron Fist Daniel Rand is dead," the intruder said flatly. "I killed him."
Lei-Kung sneered, unimpressed. "You? Kill Daniel? You don't even radiate the chi of a true warrior. You're just some magician who stumbled into K'un-Lun."
"Of course."
Nolan raised his hand. White light coiled around his arm, condensing into the shape of a pure-white dragon. The room froze. Yu-Ti and Lei-Kung recognized it instantly.
It was the Power of Shou-Lao the Undying, the Dragon's Chi that only an Iron Fist could inherit.
Yet this stranger wielded it.
Nolan's eyes narrowed as he studied them.
K'un-Lun draped itself in the image of monks and sages, but to him it was hypocrisy—parasites cloaked in borrowed divinity.
They had already earned their death.
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