Marvelous Martial Arts (A Marvel Story)

Dinner that evening was tense. Audrey ate alone in her room, and no one seemed to want to speak.

Despite all that, Mason did not go back on his words, nor did he regret them. He meant them. While he would rather not die, he would prefer dying saving people than slowly perishing away in old age. Maybe there was somewhat of a hero complex to it, but dying a slow death, withering away in a corner of the world, left to be forgotten… that was the worst kind of death he could think of.

And as someone who had already lived one life, dying did not seem too scary to him anymore. Especially considering he was in the Marvel Universe, where death was not as definite as his old world, and where he knew the afterlife to be a thing.

It was like dying in Dragon Ball; at a certain point, you were just a nobody if you did not die at least once.

Of course, cultivation could allow one to last through time, with some masters managing to live on for hundreds of years. His master had mostly called it an old legend, but it fit with Mason’s vision of cultivation. The goal of cultivation, or internal alchemy, was longevity more than overwhelming strength, after all.

Speaking of his master, Mason decided to go visit him the next day. They did not have a session scheduled that day, but he figured the old man would want to speak with him just as much as he did.

Mason did not announce himself as he entered. He knew there was no need. The old man was blind, but as a martial artist in the Awakening Realm, his other senses had been sharpened enough to hear him arrive from the other side of the street.

The training room was as bare as it had always been. No furniture, no decoration; just four walls, a ceiling and a wooden floor. What was unusual was the missing scent. As far as Mason had come, the dojo had always been impregnated by the smell of alcohol. Now, it had mysteriously disappeared.

The old man was different as well. His usual black gi, which Mason had never seen him out of, had been discarded for a tight-fitting armor, covered by a suit that looked like it would belong to a ninja.

The armor itself was a blend between ancient plate armor and modern Kevlar. More shocking, though, was that there was no bottle in sight, only his cane. As Mason entered, the old man, who had been waiting for him, having sensed him from across the street, said, ”We did not have a session today.”

Mason eyed the outfit with a critical eye and asked, ”Preparing for the next Comic-Con?”

The old man smiled, another strange thing as far as he went, and waved his hand, ”A description that is philosophically accurate. I’ll steal this one. Have you recovered, Stupid?”

Mason nodded, and the next moment, he found a sword coming for his throat. The cane had been hiding a sword. Of course it had.

With no time to dodge, Mason reinforced his throat with Essence, while kicking at the old man. He expected the old man to retreat, but his master’s body twisted impossibly, barely dodging the kick while his sword collided forcefully with Mason’s reinforced throat.

The sword pierced through the skin, but failed to go any further. It was not because the old man had gone easy on him, though.

The moment he saw him attack, Mason not only gathered his Essence, but he also activated his Breath, which allowed him to feel what the old man was doing.

His sword had been covered in Essence a moment ago, but the old man had transferred the Essence back to his body to bend out of the way of his kick, which was the only reason he had managed to block the sword.

Before the old man could do any more damage, Mason retreated. The old man followed, but Mason felt the attacks ahead of time, dodging out of the way. The room was cramped, but that worked to Mason’s advantage as it hampered the old man’s ability to use his sword.

His back to the surprisingly sturdy wall, Mason shifted off the sword’s path once more and threw a reinforced punch at the old man, aimed for the chest.

The old man had also awakened his Breath, but his body had weakened with old age. That was why Mason knew he had to go on the offensive.

The old man made up for his weaker physique with better technique. He could not dodge the fist, but he just gave Mason’s wrist a light push that somehow sent his fist veering off, about to carry his entire body with it. Mason had enough control over his body to stop, but he felt the old man was about to attack, so he pushed forward, turning the stumble into a roll to dodge.

Landing to the other side of the room, both Mason and the old man stopped.

”You fight like a barbarian, meeting strong force with strong, instead of soft. Going too fast isn’t always ideal. Stupid.”

Mason watched as the old man sheathed his sword back in his cane and countered, ”Or you were the one blinded by age, old man.”

The old man would have normally rebuked him and refused to listen to what he had to say, but their relationship appeared to have changed as he instead said, ”I’m listening.”

Mason smirked, ”You hold your teachings in such high esteem, but thousands, if not tens of thousands, of years have passed, and not a single one stepped past the foundation. You see my inexperience as a flaw; I see it as a strength. This way, I am not shackled by the chains that held humanity for so long. You think the response to strength is softness? I beg to differ.”

The old man clicked his tongue in annoyance. ”So arrogant. We would have flogged you, back in my time,” he paused, before sighing, ”But, I suppose you earned that right. Achieving what took me several hundred years in a couple of months, I’m still thinking about seppuku.”

Mason touched the nick on his neck, wiping the few drops of blood off as he grunted, ”Don’t worry, we protect fossils nowadays. Sake’s better for your health anyway.”

The old man stared at him coldly with his milky eyes, not showing a hint of amusement. Mason switched to a more serious topic, ”So, what was that? Some kind of stupid tradition? A test you had to go through because your old master was some kind of abuser?”

”A farewell.”

Mason tilted his head. ”You suck at it then. Where are you going?”

He tapped his cane against the ground, stepping towards the exit as he replied, ”I have nothing left to teach you, and some old students of mine are getting rowdy. I’ve been making excuses for myself for a while, but it’s time to step in.”

”And you’re just leaving like that? There’s no ancient inheritance, no artefact older than time for you to pass down?”

The old man did not even pause. ”Take this place. Do whatever you want with it. Live here. Teach here. Tear it down. I don’t care. I expect you to have taken the next step the next time we meet.”

Mason felt a little speechless and followed the old man to ask him what this was about, but as he followed him outside, the old man had disappeared.

The dojo was in the middle of a large street in the center of New York, yet the old man had disappeared like a ghost.

Mason looked around for a moment, searching for any traces, before scoffing, ”Ninja bullshit.”

Stepping back inside, he found a folder in the room, which he was sure had been empty when he left. It was the deed to the place, along with an old notebook.

Giving it a cursory glance, Mason easily recognized it as a collection of insights the old man had collected over the years. Special techniques he had discovered, such as the way he had bent his body to dodge his kick. That certainly would have been useful against the Hulk.

The notebook was not some old relic written over the course of his presumably long life. The ink was still fresh, and it was all written in English. Obviously, the old man had written it recently, for his sake.

Mason also found a name.

Izo.

It was nice to finally be able to put a name on his master. The two of them had known each other for less than three months, and had only spent a few sessions a week together, but a bond had been undeniably formed.

Izo was an old man set in his ways, but he remained sharp nonetheless. He appeared destitute, but he hid wisdom developed over the years. He had been a strict teacher, but he had also always been genuine and had never held back in teaching Mason. He had also been Mason’s introduction to the world of martial arts, and had left him a precious inheritance.

Speaking of which, the dojo offered Mason a new option for the problem he was facing. Again, he needed to find a way to earn a living for himself, and this might just be it.

Not many jobs could benefit from his newfound fame, not without being unethical at least. The internet could have been a possibility, but the year was 2011, so earning a living there was not as simple as it would later become.

Opening a dojo though… who wouldn’t want to receive lessons from the guy who had stood against the Hulk and lived?

Moreover, giving the deed a second glance, Mason realized it was for more than the dojo itself; there was also an apartment above.

It was empty and small, but it was his.

It could not have happened at a better time either, considering how tense things had gotten with his family. As a grown man who had lived two lives, independence was also something Mason yearned for.

Yes, this would work out just fine.

---

”What do you mean you’re moving out?!”

The news had not been taken as well as Mason thought they would.

Mason held up a hand at Audrey, who had reacted like the world was ending, and addressed his whole family, ”As I said, this has nothing to do with you. I’ve wanted independence for years now, and now that the opportunity has shown itself, it would be a shame to miss it. A job and a place- where am I getting that, especially now?”

His mother corrected sharply, ”A potential job in something you have no experience in. Learning and teaching are two wholly different things.”

”Yes, mother. Of course, mother.”

She shot him a glare, but he acted like he did not see it. Meanwhile, Eric, who had been silent so far, finally spoke, ”Are you doing this to protect us?”

What he truly wanted to ask was whether Mason was being influenced by some misguided protective instinct. If his version of protection was distance and exile.

Mason did not know that, but he still answered it unknowingly, ”You don’t have to look for double meanings in everything I do and say. And honestly, what would you have me do? Live here for the rest of my life? Or until I get a ‘safe’ job? I can’t exactly get one of those.”

Camille, his mother, argued, ”And what would you have us do? Watch you throw yourself headfirst into a dead end? Watch you balance between life and death, until you trip?”

Mason pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, but as he looked for an answer that would satisfy them, Elena, ever composed, intervened, ”If you really think this is the right time, then you should do it.”

Everyone looked at her in surprise. She had been quite vocal the day before about Mason’s activities as Solis. She narrowed her eyes at them, her expression almost identical to Camille’s a moment ago as she explained, ”I didn’t say I liked it. I never will.”

Mason watched her expression carefully as it morphed into something… understanding, and let her continue.

”But. While I may not like it, ultimately, it is your life, and you have grown remarkably stubborn recently. Annoyingly so.”

”I love you too.”

”Shut up. I still think it’s a bad idea. Using your reputation as Solis to get yourself a job will only cement the identity in everyone’s mind, and do you have any idea of the number of threats Uncle Tony gets from wannabees who want to make it big? It’s bad enough for him already, and that’s with billions of dollars at his disposal and a constant protective detail. But that’s not really a problem to you, is it? Because you don’t plan on stopping with the Hulk.”

There was a beat of silence as everyone took in what she had said, and internally agreed with it. It was Mason who broke the silence by saying, ”Listen, I don’t want to leave on bad terms, but I am leaving. And it’s not like I’m moving to another country.”

His mother sighed, ”And you know the moving isn’t really the problem. But Elena’s right. Besides…” she took a moment, ”and this is not my approval to get yourself killed, but what you do is good. Both as Mason and as Solis. And what parents would we be if we stopped you from doing good?”