Five days later.
Midtown High School.
On stage, the physics teacher lectured.
By the window, Hawk sat at his desk, pen scratching across his notebook.
He wrote down three names:
Orichalcum.
Gammanium.
And Stardust Sand.
Individually, maybe no one would recognize them. Together, anyone familiar with the myths of Saints would.
Cloths.
The battle armor of the Saints—armor that connected them to their constellations, amplifying their power to the extreme.
To forge a Cloth, those three things were indispensable.
Good news—
Since Hawk was the only person in this universe with a Microcosmos, he wouldn't need to forge one himself. If he found the materials, his constellation would refine them automatically, creating his Cloth.
Bad news—
Where in the Marvel Universe could he possibly find things that only existed in Saint Seiya's world?
Hawk rubbed his temples.
At least he had time. He hadn't lit up a constellation yet, so the need for a Cloth wasn't urgent.
But…
Better to prepare early than regret later.
So—
He looked at "Orichalcum" and jotted another word beside it:
Vibranium?
In Saint lore, Orichalcum was a mythical alloy, famed for resisting impacts.
Coincidence?
Vibranium was Marvel's mythical alloy, the rarest and strongest metal known.
It, too, could endlessly absorb shocks.
Captain America's shield was proof.
Unique. Peerless.
Priceless.
And Hawk knew exactly where a massive reserve of Vibranium was hidden. Enough, frankly, to make all forty-eight Bronze Cloths, twenty-four Silver Cloths, and twelve Gold Cloths… with leftovers.
Wakanda.
The so-called starving nation, begging the UN for aid, hiding behind isolation, when in truth it was drowning in Vibranium.
If Vibranium could replace Orichalcum—
Then Hawk would claim it.
What if Wakanda refused?
He smirked.
He didn't seek fights. But if anyone stood in the way of his strength, that was Dao Struggle.
And in Dao Struggle—
There was no retreat.
Next, he turned to "Stardust Sand."
He scribbled beside it: Meteorites.
Stardust Sand, ground from the stars themselves.
And meteorites were, in essence, fallen stars.
If he gathered them and used his Microcosmos to grind them down, he could create Stardust Sand.
That left—
Gammanium.
The tricky one.
If Orichalcum provided metal strength, and Stardust Sand granted self-repair, Gammanium was the key—binding them together, giving the Cloth a soul.
Without it, the armor was just a dead object. With it, it became a true Saint's Cloth.
Hawk frowned. Wrote "Gamma Rays" with a question mark.
From the name, from the property of granting life… Gamma Rays fit too well.
Bruce Banner had become the Hulk through gamma radiation.
In a way, Gamma Rays were the Hulk's mother.
Or father, if you wanted to look at it differently.
Either way, Gamma Rays weren't just coincidence—they had to be connected to Gammanium.
Hawk tapped his pen against the page, lost in thought.
Then—a nudge at his elbow.
He turned. Gwen Stacy was looking at him.
"Mr. Anderson's calling you."
"…"
Hawk blinked, lifting his gaze to the stage.
Anderson, graying at the temples, was smiling. "Hawk, why don't you answer this one?"
Caught daydreaming.
But—
He stood, thought for a moment, and answered flawlessly.
Anderson blinked in surprise, then nodded, letting him sit.
"Thank you," Hawk murmured, taking his seat again.
He'd barely begun turning back to his notes—thinking over Gammanium and Gamma Rays—when a folded slip of paper slid across his desk.
He opened it.
"Has the court confirmed your emancipation hearing?"
"…Yes. This afternoon."
He scribbled back the reply and passed it over.
His apartment had been blown to rubble. No new housing had been assigned.
But he doubted it would be.
New York's bureaucracy was slow, and he wasn't the only orphan displaced. By the time it was his turn, it'd be next year.
And by then he'd be eighteen.
Too old for federal housing.
So…
He had already started looking for cheap apartments.
He wasn't going to keep living like a refugee in a hangar, surrounded by people simmering in despair, waiting for violence to break out.
Better to move now, on his own terms.
Problem was—he wasn't legally an adult yet. No one would rent to him.
That's why he'd been filing for legal emancipation in Queens Family Court.
And Gwen, as a student assistant, had noticed his repeated absences.
Not because he'd told her.
Just because she paid attention.
Hawk was just a student.
Gwen Stacy—was a student assistant.
And in his grade.
…
(End of Chapter)
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