Blonsky bolted out of the kill zone at the first moment, veering slightly off from the line of fire. But it didn't matter—the twin sonic cannons weren't aimed at him. All eyes locked on the massive green figure charging behind.
The sonic impact struck the Hulk head-on.
The weapons roared to life, emitting high-frequency waves that sliced through the air with a tangible presence. You could see the sound—concentric ripples of compressed force that distorted the atmosphere, like stones dropped into reality itself.
Hidden in the shadows, Daniel felt his heart involuntarily clench. He could see what these cannons were doing to Hulk—and more importantly, he understood. These were no ordinary weapons. The speed of the sonic pulses had clearly broken the sound barrier. This wasn't a bluff. This was industrialized sorcery—science twisted into precision warfare.
And for the first time in a long time, Daniel felt cold fear.
Hulk, who had thundered forward with unstoppable momentum, was now caught in an invisible vice. The shockwave stopped him dead, driving him back step by agonizing step. He tried to shield himself with the car doors in his hands, but even those were ripped away, flung aside like tin.
His skin rippled grotesquely. Muscles pulsed and spasmed, bones shuddered beneath flesh as though trying to escape. For a creature whose body was a temple of raw power, it now looked like that very body was rebelling against itself.
Daniel's breath caught. Even he wouldn't survive something like that unscathed. If he were caught by surprise, if they struck first with weapons like these…
He shuddered.
Modern warfare. High-yield tech. Supersonic force fields. These weren't the blunt tools of armies past—they were scalpels, engineered to tear apart the strongest beings on the planet. And if this was what they were showing openly, what remained in black projects, buried bunkers, classified files?
Daniel quickly recalibrated. He couldn't rely solely on brute force. He would have to plan for scenarios like this—designed traps, electromagnetic lockdowns, sonic ambushes. In any future confrontation with the military, his first priority would be to obliterate all tech-based threats within his psychic perception range immediately.
His magic could do that. With a flick of his wand, the delicate circuits inside those sonic cannons could be fried in an instant. But it was a matter of timing. Of environment. In a city teeming with civilians, such devastation would be reckless. The military knew that. They would strike only when the battlefield was theirs.
He needed insurance. A high-tech front of his own. A company—no, an empire—capable of seizing and reverse-engineering modern weaponry, dismantling it before it became a threat. Something that could tap into satellite networks, hijack guidance systems, jam circuits mid-air. His magic could reach short distances. But technology could span the world.
For now, he watched.
Hulk was down on one knee, clutching his ears, shaking his head as if trying to rip the sound out of his skull. Bloodshot eyes bulged in agony. His flesh trembled. Muscles spasmed out of rhythm. The sonic waves weren't just harming him—they were breaking his biology, turning his greatest strength into a liability.
Still, he stood.
Hulk's resilience was legendary. But this—this was something else. Daniel watched with growing respect... and caution.
He glanced sideways at the wand in his sleeve. A mere gesture, a whispered spell, and he could silence the cannons. He could turn the tide. But he didn't.
This wasn't his fight.
He needed to see. To learn.
Nearby, Blonsky lay sprawled, hands clamped over his ears, grinning with ugly satisfaction. General Ross, stone-faced behind the line of soldiers, exhaled slightly in relief. To them, this was a victory. A cornered beast, battered and subdued.
But not to Betty Ross.
She broke from the soldiers' grip and charged toward her father, desperation cracking her voice. "Father, please! You're going to kill him!"
Ross didn't even flinch. His cold detachment never wavered. He shoved her back without a glance. Soldiers pulled her away once more.
Defeated and horrified, Betty turned her eyes toward the sonic assault. Her vision blurred with grief.
But then, something strange happened.
The Hulk… looked at her.
Amid the roar and pain, his gaze locked with hers. And there, in those blood-rimmed, monstrous eyes… was calm.
Reassurance.
And that's when she knew—he was still in there. Bruce was still alive.
Hulk's massive hands slammed into the ground, claws tearing through the earth. With a snarl of defiance, he pulled himself upright. Muscles trembling. Bones screeching. But he moved.
He rose.
Step by shuddering step, he crawled forward, toward the discarded car doors. He lifted them again, one in each hand, and planted them like shields. Slowly—painfully—he pushed against the sonic onslaught, each step defying physics, pain, and the soldiers' belief that they had won.
General Ross's expression shifted—first surprise, then dread.
Daniel's eyes narrowed.
Now it begins.
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