In Marvel with Ultimate Gacha

The three of them—Steve, Natasha, and Bucky—examined the Basic Aura Manual with wary curiosity.

Natasha broke the silence. "What even is this?"

Michael, leaning casually against the doorway, gave a small smirk.

"You remember my fight with Thor," he said flatly. "That golden energy I was using—that was my Aura. Specifically, a dawn-colored manifestation. That's what these books are for. To teach you how to awaken and control your own."

He stepped forward, his voice steady and low, almost instructive now.

"Every living being has Aura—an extension of will, spirit, and life force. Most never awaken it. But once you do, it becomes your weapon, your shield… your evolution."

"Mine," he continued, raising his hand slightly, "was Tier V Aura. These manuals will only take you to Tier III. That's the best I can give you without... well, let's just say, accidents happening."

Steve raised a brow. "Tier V? Is that how you stood toe-to-toe with Thor?"

Michael nodded, then chuckled faintly.

"That wasn't even close to my limit. My Aura was Tier V and my base physical stats were beyond anything you three have. So no—don't dream of taking down a god with Tier III. Not yet."

Bucky muttered, "So what's the point?"

"The point," Michael said firmly, "is that this will make you dangerous in ways no serum ever could. Aura is not bound by science or supersoldier formulas. It's yours. Purely yours. It grows with your resolve, your pain, your battles."

He gestured toward the books now faintly glowing in their hands.

"Read them. Meditate. Train. Aura isn't learned overnight—but once it's awakened, you'll feel it. Burning beneath your skin like fire that answers your call."

Natasha ran a hand over the first page of her manual, watching the ink shift slightly beneath her fingers, as if the book was alive.

Michael turned toward the hallway once more.

"Oh—and don't get smart. If you try to give it to anyone else…" He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.

"Of course we won't," Natasha said, her tone sharp and serious. "After all, there's still Hydra. What if they get their hands on this?"

Michael gave a slow, approving nod. "At least one spy still has brains."

With that, he turned on his heel, cloak brushing the floor as he headed for the door.

"Where are you going now?" Bucky asked.

Michael didn't stop walking, but he glanced over his shoulder, a faint grin on his lips.

"Getting ready. I've got a date tonight…"

He paused dramatically, smirking just a little wider.

"…with a cat burglar."

And just like that, Michael disappeared around the corner, leaving the three behind—each holding dangerous knowledge in their hands.

"I'm going to use it," Bucky muttered. He took a seat on the floor, legs crossed, opening the Basic Aura Manual. As he flipped through the pages, faint energy began to hum in the air around him.

Tier I Aura Awakening: Meditation…

The manual described how the aura one awakened would reflect something deep within the user—an extension of their will, their soul. This wasn't the same system Michael used, but a simplified, structured version meant for new initiates. Bucky's eyes narrowed with focus. He was determined to master it.

Seeing him begin, Steve and Natasha exchanged glances and silently joined him. They sat down, opened their books, and began to read.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the estate—

Michael was getting dressed.

For once, not for battle, but for something more mundane. A date.

He adjusted his collar in the mirror, tying his dark shirt with smooth precision. His movements were practiced but not vain—sharp, efficient, clean. He was always composed, even when it came to something as light-hearted as a "night out."

Outside the room, Mia stood with a drink tray, but her mind clearly wasn't on serving tea. She peeked toward Michael's door as it shut.

"He's… really going on a date?" she asked aloud, almost disbelieving. "Up until now, not a single person has stepped past that cold-hearted armor. No flirtation. No fake politeness. Nothing."

Her gaze turned sly. "And now some bold beauty managed to charm him into something beyond a one-night affair?"

She gave a small, amused scoff. "I wonder who this cat burglar is and what exactly she did to get my master off-guard…"

She laughed gently to herself and added, "This really is a first. The young master on a date, not going out to kill anyone."

Behind her, another voice joined—silky and amused.

"It's good," Rose, Michael's mother, said as she approached from the corridor, elegant as ever. "Let the boy breathe. Let him experience something soft for once. I've introduced him to every eligible young lady worth half a damn, and he's turned them all down. Cold."

She took a sip of her tea. "So if he's finally letting someone in, then whoever she is… she's not ordinary."

"Should I prepare the guest room… or keep the suite under lock just in case?" Mia teased.

Rose smirked.

"Keep the suite unlocked. But I want information on this dame who managed to push my Michael into more than just a one-night stand."

They both laughed, a rare warmth echoing through the cold, regal halls of White Estate.

***

Later That Evening...

A sleek red BMW pulled up outside a high-rise apartment in the upper west corner of Manhattan. The engine purred like a well-fed predator before quieting down. The polished exterior caught the light from the streetlamps, gleaming like crimson silk under moonlight.

Michael sat behind the wheel, one arm resting casually on the door, dressed in a dark, impeccably tailored coat over a black shirt and open collar. He adjusted the rearview mirror once, then glanced up at the apartment window.

He gave a single honk—short, not loud, but just enough.

A moment later, the apartment light turned off, and the front door opened.

Felicia Hardy stepped out.

She looked flawless in a tight black leather jacket over a silver-gray dress that shimmered faintly with every step she took. Her platinum hair was tied in a sharp ponytail, eyes glinting with that playful danger she wore better than diamonds. She smirked as she saw the car—and who was inside.

Michael gave a subtle nod, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement.

*******

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