Henry stood shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose beach shorts.
He walked to the expansive floor-to-ceiling window in his bedroom, pushed open the glass doors, and stepped onto the wide viewing balcony.
The morning sun poured over him, enveloping his body in golden warmth. Every muscle fiber was sharply defined beneath his skin, carved and powerful, brimming with latent energy.
He took a deep breath of the salty sea breeze—then frowned.
"I swear, the air quality in California keeps getting worse," he muttered critically to himself. "It smells like rotting wealth and cheap Hollywood perfume. Jarvis, remind me—should I invest in a private island filled with birch trees? Natural air purifier."
"Good morning, Mr. Henry," Jarvis's familiar, composed voice echoed through the hidden balcony speakers.
"According to your biometric readings, your sleep quality last night was rated excellent. As for the air, the current PM2.5 index in Malibu is 12, which is considered ideal. The scent you're referring to most likely originates from the combination of excessive champagne consumption and Miss Elena's limited-edition Chanel."
"Oh really?" Henry exhaled with mock exasperation.
"So now my personal AI is developing a nose—and an interest in women's perfume? My dear old set of circuits, maybe it's time you found yourself an electronic girlfriend. I've heard Japan recently launched one—sweet voice, calls you Yamedie in three languages."
"Sir, I'm merely stating facts," Jarvis replied dryly, unbothered.
"The current time is 8:15 a.m. Would you like breakfast? The kitchen unit has prepared your usual Spanish Serrano ham and double-fried eggs."
"Breakfast? No rush." Henry stretched lazily, letting golden sunlight soak his skin. Every cell in his body seemed to vibrate with vitality.
"It'd be a waste not to use this weather properly. Come on, Jarvis bring me a lounge chair. A promising young man like me who values health deserves a proper sunbath."
"Of course, sir."
The glass panels behind him silently retracted, and smooth alloy plates began to unfold and interlock. The transformation was seamless—a perfect symphony of design and precision.
"I have to admit," Henry said, watching with satisfaction, "this automated laziness system I designed is a pure work of genius."
Then, as always, he found something to criticize.
"It's still too damn slow. By the time you finish assembling, the sun will have clocked out. Next time, install thrusters, I want to be horizontal within 0.1 seconds after giving the command."
Moments later, a sleek metallic recliner extended before him.
"Barely acceptable," he complained, settling into it anyway.
A mechanical arm extended from the side of the chair, delicately presenting a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses.
He slipped them on, crossed his legs, and said smugly, "Alright, time to enjoy another boring, ordinary billionaire morning."
Henry closed his eyes under the sun but didn't plan to nap.
"Jarvis, activate my bio-monitoring display. Let's see how efficient this humanoid solar battery really is. Show me real-time data—let's find out if one hour of sunbathing upgrades me enough to bench-press a tank."
"Yes, sir."
Moments later, a translucent holographic display shimmered to life before him, numbers and 3D molecular models rapidly updating in the air.
The sunlight on his skin didn't feel scorching—it was soothing, flowing through him like liquid energy. A subtle golden shimmer danced across his body, making him resemble a mythic sun god reborn.
Swinging his legs idly, Henry grinned. "Hey, Jarvis see this cell's energy conversion rate? Only up by 0.09%. That's sluggish! Can't you tweak the sunlight frequencies or maybe redirect a satellite beam for me? C'mon, give me something cosmic!"
"Sir, as I mentioned in our prior analysis," Jarvis replied smoothly, "your cells are undergoing an unprecedented transformation akin to photosynthesis. Your genetic structure is slowly optimizing itself—a process of deliberate, evolutionary adjustment."
"Yeah, yeah, spare me the dissertation." Henry waved a hand dismissively.
"In simple terms, I'm evolving into Superman, right? Blue spandex, red underwear, and all that nonsense?"
"There are surface similarities," Jarvis said. "However, your evolutionary trajectory remains indeterminate and potentially unpredictable."
"Unpredictable, huh? So I'm basically a biological loot box." Henry smirked.
"I hate blind boxes. Just promise me this no weird passive ability that makes me wear underwear on the outside. That aesthetic's a crime against humanity."
He studied the flowing gene-sequence visualization, but beneath his sarcasm flickered an edge of solemn reflection.
Maybe it really was happening—his body shifting beyond normal human limits.
Absorbing sunlight. Growing stronger.
Like Superman... or something far stranger.
Let's just hope I don't end up like Hyperion. He grimaced. That would be tragic.
Then again, he mused, if he became something on the level of the Sentry... that might not be so bad.
A being who could manipulate matter, command the power of a million suns. As long as he never developed the "evil twin" complex, life could stay interesting.
Eventually, he sighed, stretching contentedly. "One day," he murmured, "I'll be strong enough to protect everything I care about."
Two hours passed in a haze of sunlight, music, and lazy banter.
Then Jarvis's voice cut through the warmth:
"Sir, energy analysis complete. Based on total solar conversion, your physical capacity has increased since yesterday."
That caught Henry's attention. He sat up, pushing his sunglasses down his nose.
"Oh? How much? Tell me good news—did I hit moon-busting levels yet?"
"I'm afraid not quite, sir," Jarvis answered with subtle humor.
"According to my model, your base strength has improved by roughly four metric tons, and your maximum flight velocity now reaches Mach 3. Your overall durability... exceeds expectations."
"Only four tons?" Henry groaned—but he couldn't hide his grin.
"Still, not bad. Next time some idiot steps out of line, I'll upgrade my right hook."
Stretching, he admired the feeling of newfound power coursing through him.
Then, a wicked idea formed in his mind.
"Hey, Jarvis," he said, eyes glinting. "How about testing something exciting?"
"Sir, with respect, your definition of 'exciting' often equates to 'dangerously reckless.'"
"Don't ruin my vibe," Henry retorted, walking to the balcony's edge and scanning the endless sky.
"I was just thinking since I apparently share biology with spandex-boy upstairs, and considering you said my bio-field shields me from pressure and heat… tell me, is it possible I could survive in space?"
He grinned like a man already plotting.
"I mean—Superman-style. Bio-force field, no oxygen, no gravity. You think I could pull that off, Jarvis?"