Nate awoke the next morning with a clarity he had never felt before. The events of his past life and the surge of chakra energy were no longer distant sensations, they were part of him, intertwined with every fiber of his being. Unlike his waking hours before, every movement felt deliberate, every breath precise. He had already begun mastering his body, but now he needed discipline on a higher level.
From dawn until dusk, Nate threw himself into training. Martial arts routines that had been second nature now became conduits to explore chakra. Each punch, kick, and defensive maneuver was no longer just muscle memory; it was enhanced by the energy flowing through him. His strikes became faster, his reflexes sharper, his stamina seemingly limitless.
He experimented with the flow of chakra in his own unique way. Sitting cross-legged on the roof, he focused on the subtle energy within, noting how it reacted to tension, speed, and precision. With each hour of meditation and physical training, he learned how to harmonize his inner energy with his body, creating a synergy that pushed him far beyond ordinary human limits.
His father noticed changes but attributed them to years of disciplined training. Marcus encouraged Nate to push himself further, oblivious to the supernatural force Nate was harnessing. The morning runs grew longer, the parkour exercises more daring, and the martial arts sessions increasingly complex. Nate kept meticulous notes, analyzing his progress, adjusting his technique, and always pushing for perfection.
Weeks passed, and Nate's control over his chakra became refined. He could now instinctively sense his own flow, controlling his speed, strength, and agility without conscious effort. Each leap, each punch, each defensive block became an extension of his mind and energy, not just his physical body.
He had rented a rundown warehouse on the city's edge, the kind anyone with cash and no questions asked could secure. Inside, he built his sanctuary piece by piece. Most of the exercise machines were his own creations, welded frames, chains, and weighted pulleys fashioned from scrap metal and salvaged parts. Strike dummies were stitched together from discarded materials, obstacle courses improvised with wood and steel beams. It wasn't pretty, but it was effective. This was his dojo, his lab, his refuge, where meditation met sweat, and every tool was designed to push him closer to mastery.
With each passing day, he felt the echo of his past life guiding him. Every tactical movement, every mental calculation, every minute observation from his time as Batman came back in flashes. It was as if Bruce Wayne had never left him; his past self whispered advice and strategy, guiding his path.
Nate knew strength alone wouldn't be enough. Without inherited wealth, he needed resources, and that meant building a business from the ground up. He immersed himself in market research, studied finance, and dissected case studies with the same precision he once applied to strategy. Business became another form of combat, requiring foresight, adaptability, and discipline.
Most nights were spent drafting proposals, sketching product ideas, and learning how to navigate markets and human behavior. Every plan was methodical, every decision calculated. Slowly, he was laying the foundation for a venture that could fund the technology and operations his mission would one day require.
The business side began modestly. Nate targeted consumer technology, wearable gear, advanced protective equipment, and small innovations in tactical utility. Using scraps and parts from his warehouse experiments, he designed prototypes: reinforced gloves that distributed kinetic impact, lightweight body armor fashioned from composite layers, and compact tracking devices. These weren't weapons, not yet, but tools that could have legitimate uses in law enforcement, construction, and personal safety. He pitched them not as instruments of vigilantes, but as practical advancements for everyday workers.
At first, doors slammed in his face. Investors scoffed at his age, at his lack of connections, at his ideas that seemed too ambitious for a college student with no pedigree. But Nate treated every rejection like a sparring match, analyzed the weaknesses, adjusted the pitch, and came back stronger. He learned how to frame his ideas in language investors wanted to hear, emphasizing cost efficiency, durability, and innovation. Slowly, interest began to spark.
By reinvesting every penny he earned from small contracts, selling reinforced gear to private security firms, experimental designs to engineering startups, he laid the groundwork for something greater. He registered a company under the name CrossTech Solutions, operating it out of his small apartment and warehouse. What seemed like a hobbyist's side project began to take on the structure of a legitimate enterprise.
During these months, Nate's internal dialogue was constant. He would often pause during training or meditation to reflect that he was not Bruce Wayne. And yet, in many ways, he was. The past guided him, but he knew he could not rely on it alone. Every move, every strategy would have to be rebuilt from the ground up. Every plan tested, every method refined. Strength alone would never be enough; what he needed was precision, control, and influence.
With each passing day, the synergy of past experience and present mastery grew. His body became a weapon of incredible precision, his mind a strategic powerhouse, and his business acumen sharpened into a tool as formidable as his fists.
He also began to face the harsh realities of dealing with investors. Meetings were often tense. Men in suits leaned back in their chairs, eyeing him like an overzealous child. They questioned his numbers, demanded proof of concept, and laughed at the idea of a young man with no established company trying to compete in a crowded tech market. But Nate met every scoff with controlled precision, presenting test data, durability trials, and use cases that could not be ignored. He spoke with quiet authority, layering facts over vision, until even the most skeptical had to admit his ideas had teeth.
"Your numbers are projections, Mr. Cross," one investor said, tapping the papers with a manicured finger. "What guarantee do we have that your gear won't fall apart in the field?"
Nate leaned forward. "Because I've tested it myself. I've run these gloves through impact tests, applied stress far beyond standard conditions, and they still hold. I don't put forward anything I haven't risked my own safety on."
The room went quiet for a moment before another investor smirked. "Bold claim. But where's your mass production line?"
"That's why I'm here," Nate replied steadily. "I can make prototypes, but I need capital to expand. I'm not asking you to believe in fantasy. I'm asking you to believe in data, and in me."
Some investors shifted uneasily in their seats, exchanging glances. A few whispered to each other, unconvinced but not ready to dismiss him outright. The older venture capitalist, intrigued by Nate's insistence on practical applications, gear for construction workers, police, and rescue units, leaned forward with interest. It wasn't much, but his presence gave Nate credibility in the room. He knew he had to push harder, keep the momentum.
Then the tall man in a gray suit broke the silence, his tone dismissive.
"Protective gloves? Reinforced vests? That market is saturated, kid," a tall man in a gray suit said dismissively.
Nate remained calm. "Yes, but not at this price point. Not with this level of durability. Look at the breakdowns in material cost and resilience ratios. I'm cutting production costs by fifteen percent while raising effectiveness by nearly thirty. That's not saturation, that's disruption."
The man frowned, flipping through the pages again. Another investor, a sharp-eyed woman, chimed in: "And what's your five-year plan? You won't stay afloat selling to just security companies."
Nate inhaled slowly. "Five years from now, CrossTech won't just sell protective gear. We'll move into surveillance technology, tactical communications, and wearable health monitoring. Also ultra-compact, high-output battery that delivers maximum energy density in a space-saving design, providing reliable, long-lasting power for the devices of tomorrow. This is the foundation. I'm not selling products, I'm building a platform."
There was silence again, followed by murmurs. Nate could see the hesitation, but also the intrigue.
Finally, the man in the gray suit leaned back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Alright, kid. I'll bite. I'm in, but on one condition: I want to see production up and running in six weeks."
Nate met his gaze steadily. "Consider it done. I'm finalizing a facility now and will have operations fully prepared to meet your timeline. Every milestone will be met without compromise."
Within days, he rented a modest industrial space near the city outskirts. Machines were installed, assembly lines set up, and he began producing small batches of his protective gear. The first prototypes rolled out under strict quality control, each one tested rigorously before any client received them. It was the start of something much bigger, and Nate felt the familiar rush of anticipation, another battlefield mastered, another step closer to the empire he would one day build.
He learned quickly that business was as much about patience and reputation as it was about product. Every conversation was a chess match. Every deal a sparring session. His past life's instincts whispered reminders: control the board, control the tempo, never let the opponent dictate terms. And so Nate practiced boardroom strategy as intensely as he practiced combat drills.
By the end of the first few months, Nate Cross had transformed.