Chapter 196: The Limitless One
Within a ten-kilometer radius beneath the falling city, the landscape had become unrecognizable.
Enormous impact craters scarred the earth.
Entire roads had vanished beneath fractured bedrock. Bridges had collapsed into rivers. Several villages that had failed to evacuate in time were buried beneath concrete, twisted steel, and shattered masonry. Thick columns of dust and black smoke stretched across the Sokovian horizon.
Even after the Avengers and Justice League had reduced much of the city's mass before impact, the devastation remained catastrophic.
The destruction rivaled—and in some respects exceeded—the damage inflicted during the Battle of Metropolis.
...
Ten kilometers away, atop a temporary observation ridge.
Lynn remained seated outside his field clinic.
A folding chair.
A folding table.
A half-finished cup of Longjing tea.
Nothing had changed.
His All-Seeing Eye continued monitoring the entire disaster zone.
He watched Superman accelerate through the sky, the crude vibranium helmet with its two crooked antennae wobbling violently in the turbulent air.
He watched Iron Man's battered armor struggling to maintain stable flight, damaged thrusters causing his trajectory to sway while weakened repulsors carved apart falling debris.
He watched Thor hurl Mjölnir again and again, divine lightning reducing collapsing structures to smaller fragments before they reached the ground.
The battle itself was over.
Ultron had been destroyed.
The Mind Stone had already been returned to Earth's defenders.
There were no additional high-value genetic samples.
No worthwhile abilities remained to copy.
Only routine casualties.
Lynn stood and surveyed the remaining patients.
Most had only superficial wounds caused by falling debris or residual shockwaves.
"Gentlemen."
His tone remained as calm as always.
"My field clinic is reserved for severe trauma."
"If you're suffering from cuts, bruises, or uncomplicated fractures, report to the Avengers' medical unit."
"My equipment is limited."
"It should be reserved for patients whose lives actually depend on it."
The agents looked at one another.
Nobody argued.
During the battle they had watched this quiet physician calmly drink tea while simultaneously saving dozens of critically wounded heroes whose survival had seemed impossible.
His judgment carried unquestioned authority.
One by one, the lightly injured quietly departed.
Soon...
The field clinic became silent again.
Lynn sat back down.
His tea had gone cold.
He drank it anyway.
Far away, smoke continued rising from ruined Sokovia.
The remaining rescue work belonged to the heroes.
His own responsibility had already ended.
The invoices had also been sent.
As for payment...
Lynn adjusted his glasses.
Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark understood contracts far too well to default on one.
...
The following day...
News of the Sokovia disaster spread across the world.
Every major broadcaster shifted to continuous live coverage.
The BBC.
CNN.
Fox News.
NHK.
Al Jazeera.
Satellite imagery, rescue operations, collapsed districts, refugee camps, and military engineering units dominated every broadcast.
Official casualty reports increased almost hourly.
By the third day...
Confirmed deaths had exceeded six thousand.
More than thirty thousand people had been injured.
Over one hundred twenty thousand civilians had been displaced.
The humanitarian crisis eclipsed almost every modern conflict in the region.
Governments reacted immediately.
Several world leaders publicly questioned whether superhuman activity could continue without international oversight.
Emergency sessions of the United Nations Security Council were convened to discuss legal accountability for super-powered individuals and organizations.
Proposals for international regulation rapidly entered formal debate.
Yet public opinion proved far more complicated.
Fear certainly existed.
So did grief.
But another phenomenon emerged alongside it.
A legend.
Someone had uploaded a blurry recording captured from the outskirts of the battlefield.
The footage showed only fragments.
A golden portal.
A masked figure.
Ultron suspended helplessly in one hand.
The Mind Stone being torn free.
The recording lasted less than three minutes.
Within forty-eight hours...
It had spread across virtually every major social-media platform.
Discussion exploded across Reddit, 4chan, private forums, and encrypted networks.
Thousands attempted to analyze every frame.
Others compiled a chronological record of the masked man's known appearances.
Battle of Metropolis
—Destroyed the World Engine.
—Overpowered General Zod.
Battle of Sokovia
—Neutralized Ultron's quantum phasing.
—Overwhelmed a vibranium body empowered by the Mind Stone.
—Extracted an Infinity Stone barehanded.
Eventually...
Someone coined a new title.
The Limitless One.
The nickname spread with astonishing speed.
Within days, hashtags referencing the mysterious protector dominated global trends.
One especially lengthy online analysis argued that the masked man never sought fame, never accepted political authority, never involved himself in ordinary heroics, and only appeared when civilization itself stood on the edge of collapse.
Its conclusion read:
"He is not humanity's ruler.
He is not humanity's savior.
He is simply the final line that disaster has never managed to cross."
The article quickly became one of the most widely shared discussions surrounding the Sokovia Crisis.
...
Miracle Clinic.
New York.
Lynn leaned comfortably against the chair behind the reception desk, his feet resting on the corner of his desk.
His phone displayed another article discussing "The Limitless One."
He read the title.
Then closed it.
He had little interest in public speculation.
Instead, he opened the system interface.
His Reputation value continued climbing.
Rapidly.
Faster than after the Battle of Metropolis.
The numbers increased almost continuously.
Lynn watched the notifications without any visible reaction.
To him...
Popularity was simply another resource.
...
Two more days passed.
Four o'clock in the afternoon.
Autumn had finally arrived in New York.
The afternoon wind carried a faint chill.
Business at the Miracle Clinic had been unusually quiet.
Lynn picked up the wooden Closed sign and walked toward the entrance.
Before he could hang it...
A violent gust swept down the street.
A silver blur shot across the sidewalk.
The clinic door burst open.
Pietro Maximoff rushed inside.
His silver hair was completely disheveled from his own speed.
Wanda entered a few seconds later at an ordinary pace.
Her long hair remained tied back neatly, and the black emotional-monitoring collar Lynn had designed was still fastened around her neck.
Pietro barely slowed down.
He rushed directly to the reception desk.
His grin stretched almost from ear to ear.
Without saying another word, he pulled a folded document from his jacket.
He unfolded it dramatically before slapping it onto the counter.
"Doctor!"
"You'd better look carefully!"
"Thirty million dollars!"
"Not one cent missing!"
"It's a certified check!"
Lynn lowered his gaze.
The check carried the seal of Wayne Enterprises.
The signature belonged to Bruce Wayne himself.
He examined the watermark briefly before folding the check and slipping it into the inside pocket of his white coat.
Pietro threw both hands into the air.
"From today onward..."
"I'm free!"
He practically danced around the waiting room.
"No more sprinting to Seattle because someone wants fresh coffee!"
"No more racing to Chicago just to pick up surgical equipment!"
"No more sneaking into government buildings to steal paperwork!"
"No more impossible errands!"
"I've finally paid off my debt!"
Lynn nodded once.
"Congratulations."
His voice remained as calm as ever.
Then, after a brief pause, he added,
"Starting tomorrow, you'll be working as a salaried employee instead."
Pietro froze.
"...What?"
"The debt is gone."
Lynn adjusted his glasses.
"But the clinic is still short a delivery specialist."
"You've already proven you're exceptionally qualified."
Pietro's smile slowly disappeared.
Wanda quietly covered her mouth, trying—and failing—not to laugh.
For the first time in days...
The Miracle Clinic echoed with something other than medical discussions.
It was laughter.
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