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Two Months Later, in the Basement
"287, 288, 289... 300."
Mark, clad in a sleeveless vest, clenched his teeth as he completed his three-hundredth push-up. Collapsing onto the ground, he let out a deep breath and sat down heavily.
"There's no doubt about it, this Saiyan physiology is incredibly resilient."
Currently appearing to be around eleven or twelve years old, Mark's biological age would normally place him in the early stages of middle school. Under ordinary human conditions, the intensive training regimen he had subjected himself to over the past several days would have been physically ruinous, at the very least, resulting in muscle degeneration or even rhabdomyolysis.
Yet each time he pushed his body to its limits, rendering himself physically exhausted, he would fully recover after a single night of sleep and a hearty meal. Each morning, he awoke reinvigorated, his vitality restored, his strength noticeably increased.
The progression was unmistakable. His physical capabilities had developed rapidly. In just two months, his strength had reached a level comparable to that of an average adult male.
At last, he could understand the fascination that fitness enthusiasts had with physical training. Much like leveling up in a video game, the incremental improvements were deeply satisfying. When an individual perceives tangible progress on a daily basis, the process itself becomes addictive.
"The only problem now is the economic burden."
Sokovia was in the midst of post-war reconstruction. Both Olek and Iryna had managed to secure relatively stable employment. Under normal circumstances, raising three children would not pose a significant financial strain. However, Saiyan physiology demanded an extraordinary caloric intake.
If Mark were to eat without restraint, their household income would barely suffice to feed him alone.
One need only recall the time during the Tenkaichi Budōkai (World Martial Arts Tournament), when Master Roshi's 500,000 yen prize money was nearly exhausted by Goku's insatiable appetite, he had consumed food worth 480,000 yen in a single sitting.
As a result, Mark had been compelled to limit the intensity of his training. He had considered invoking the Goku template to temporarily obtain Goku's full abilities, allowing him to earn money through unconventional means.
Given Sokovia's unstable security situation, extracting money from criminal enterprises while simultaneously accruing justice points seemed feasible.
However, upon deeper reflection, he ultimately rejected the idea.
He recalled that a major HYDRA stronghold was located in Sokovia, one under the command of Baron Strucker, who was infamous for conducting unethical experiments on individuals with extraordinary abilities.
Revealing his powers too soon would likely attract unwanted attention, not only placing himself in danger but also endangering the family that had taken him in.
Had he been able to maintain the Goku template indefinitely, he might not have hesitated to destroy the HYDRA base single-handedly. After all, HYDRA's combat capacity at least one stronghold was arguably no more formidable than the Red Ribbon Army.
But the Goku transformation lasted only one hour, after which he would experience severe physical exhaustion.
Although the severity of this post-transformation weakness had diminished with the strengthening of his base body, it remained a significant liability.
What troubled him most, however, was the partial assimilation of Goku's personality during the transformation. In that state, he became overly righteous, excessively kindhearted, and disproportionately eager to engage in battle, compromising his ability to assess situations rationally.
In the end, he concluded that patience was the wiser course. It was only the year 2000. Tony Stark's debut as Iron Man was still a decade away.
It was better to lay low for the time being and concentrate on strengthening himself. When his foundation was sufficiently solid, then and only then would he contemplate pursuing wealth or actively accumulating justice points.
After a short rest, Mark extended the monkey-like tail now protruding from his lower back and coiled it around a chair, continuing a unique form of physical training.
The Saiyan tail, a known vulnerability, caused instantaneous paralysis if seized. Thus, it was imperative to desensitize and strengthen it through repeated conditioning.
"Mark! Mark! Come quick! The moon is so full tonight! Let's go watch it from the second-floor balcony!"
Just as Mark was training his tail, Wanda and Pietro peeked through the door, their voices brimming with excitement as they beckoned him.
Mark froze momentarily before forcing a smile.
"You two go ahead. I'm not really into moon-gazing."
He wasn't exaggerating his caution. Now that he possessed the bloodline of a Saiyan, identical to that of Goku exposure to the full moon risked triggering an uncontrollable transformation into a Great Ape (Ōzaru). The consequences would be catastrophic.
The next morning's headlines would scream across every major news outlet: "Giant Ape Ravages Sokovia!"
This would inevitably invite the attention of global security forces and covert organizations alike.
The full moon occurred twelve times a year, and until Mark could learn to suppress the transformation or retain his consciousness during it, avoidance was the only safe option.
"Okay…"
Wanda and Pietro's disappointment was palpable.
In their eyes, Mark was a calm, dependable elder brother who took meticulous care of them. They constantly sought his companionship, especially in their parents absence, which extended well into the evenings due to their jobs.
"How about this, after you've watched the moon, come to the kitchen on the first floor. I'll make you some noodles."
Seeing their downcast faces, Mark smiled gently and offered consolation.
His past experiences in a neglectful household had necessitated self-sufficiency from a young age. Cooking, therefore, was among his acquired skills. While not a professional chef, he could handle basic home-style dishes with ease.
He had long felt awkward benefiting from the family's hospitality without contributing. Recently, he had taken full responsibility for cooking and housework, a personal gesture of gratitude and a way to refine his physical discipline.
Interestingly, this aligned with the Kame School (Turtle Hermit) philosophy: that everyday chores constitute a form of spiritual and physical training.
Although Sokovian tastes differed significantly from his usual Chinese cuisine, Mark had adapted. Wanda and Pietro adored his sweet-style tomato and egg noodles.
As for Western dishes? Truthfully, most were simple enough to learn on the fly.
"Oh, that's great!"
At the mention of noodles, the children's disappointment vanished. They clapped and nodded enthusiastically.
In their eyes, Mark was a paragon of competence, he could cook delicious meals, impart vast knowledge, tell fascinating stories, and always protected them like an adult.
"Mark, this is a comic my dad gave me a while ago. I've read it already, so I thought I'd lend it to you."
Pietro, beaming with pride, handed Mark a comic book as if presenting a treasured artifact.
"Thank you."
Mark smiled, tousling Pietro's hair as he accepted the comic. Though comics were not his personal interest, he appreciated the gesture, it would have been unkind to refuse.
"I have something too! This is my favorite DVD, it's all yours now!"
Not to be outdone, Wanda presented him with the first season of The Dick Van Dyke Show, her most beloved sitcom.
"Thank you as well."
Mark responded with a similar show of affection.
After the children left, Mark set the comic and DVD aside, intending to wash up before preparing their meal.
However, just as he finished dressing and prepared to ascend the stairs, his gaze fell unintentionally on the comic book's cover and his expression abruptly changed.
"What... is this?"
The cover depicted a woman wielding a shield battling a red-skulled villain, with bold letters reading
"Captain Carter vs. Red Skull."
Mark's brows furrowed. 'Shouldn't that be Captain America vs. Red Skull?'
He quickly flipped through the pages. A chilling thought emerged
"Could this mean... I've crossed into earth 838?"