"Hurry up! Light, you are too slow!"
Gali skipped down the sidewalk of 7th Avenue, hopping over cracks in the pavement like a bunny in a field of concrete.
Light Inksworth walked behind her, hands in his pockets, watching her with a mix of amusement and wariness.
To any passerby, she looked like an innocent, albeit eccentric, little girl in a purple dress.
To Light, she was a walking, talking cosmological anomaly.
His mind drifted back to the previous night. She had downed the Biceps King Serum—a substance capable of turning a man into a city-destroying titan—like it was a shot of apple juice. No transformation. No rampage. Just a burp.
'The System doesn't give fake rewards,' Light reasoned. 'Which means the variable is her.'
He looked at her small frame. If a Dragon-Level mutagen was merely a "snack" to her, what was her upper limit?
She had mentioned a father. A "super powerful boss" who consumed even more than she did.
'Who is she?' Light wondered.
He didn't press her for answers. Everyone had secrets, and frankly, he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer yet.
For now, knowing that this runaway girl was strong enough to drink a scientific concoction that could make a human anatomy look like a fucking joke was a comforting thought.
It just means that her body has enough capability to handle it. Which means, she's strong... Unbelievably strong.
She was the ultimate insurance policy.
Light sighed, scanning the bustling street.
He knew his knowledge of this world was incomplete. In his past life, he wasn't a comic book historian.
He knew the MCU inside and out, and he had seen the X-Men films.
But the deep comics lore?
The cosmic abstracts like the Living Tribunal or the One Above All?
He only knew them through some Tiktok reels.
And the System was no help. He had tried searching for "Captain America" or "Iron Man" in the database, but it returned zero results.
The System doesn't provide any Marvel-related works.
It couldn't spoil his future.
They reached the edge of Times Square. The sensory assault was immediate. Giant screens flashed with advertisements, news tickers, and stock prices.
Light paused, his eyes drawn to a massive LED curved screen above the Disney Store. The morning news cycle was dominated by one topic.
[NEW YORK TIMES: COMIC INDUSTRY SHAKEUP. 'ONE PUNCH MAN' BREAKS SALES RECORDS.]
[WASHINGTON POST: A NEW ERA OF HEROISM? EXPERTS PREDICT MANIA TO LAST WEEKS.]
[LA TIMES: SATIRE OR SUBVERSION? WHY SAITAMA IS THE ANTI-CAPTAIN AMERICA.]
Light smirked.
Then, a ticker from USA Today scrolled across the bottom:
[OPINION: VETERANS GROUPS CALL 'ONE PUNCH MAN' DISRESPECTFUL TO THE AMERICAN SPIRIT. CALLS FOR BOYCOTT GROWING.]
"Perfect," Light whispered.
In the entertainment business, indifference was death. Controversy was cash. Let them protest.
Let them burn books.
Every angry article was just free advertising that would drive curious readers to pick up a copy to see what the fuss was about.
It was all fuel for the System.
Suddenly, the screens flickered. The bright colors of the advertisements cut away to a solemn BREAKING NEWS graphic. The ambient noise of the square dropped as pedestrians stopped to look up.
A news anchor appeared, looking grave.
[We are interrupting this broadcast with an emergency report. Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries, has been declared missing in Afghanistan.]
The image switched to a file photo of Tony—arrogant, wearing sunglasses, holding a scotch.
[Stark was in the region for a weapons demonstration. His convoy was ambushed yesterday. At this time, his whereabouts are unknown, and Stark Industries stock is in freefall…]
The crowd around Light erupted into murmurs.
"Stark? Missing?"
"Probably kidnapped for ransom. He's done for."
"Sell the stock. Sell it now."
Light stood still in the shifting crowd.
'It's starting,' he thought, a thrill of anticipation running through him.
This was Iron Man 1.
The Jericho missile demonstration.
The cave.
The arc reactor.
The Age of Heroes wasn't just coming; it had just kicked down the door.
The screen switched again. Now, it showed a debate taking place in Washington D.C. A beautiful woman with fiery red hair stood at a podium. She radiated elegance and intelligence.
Jean Grey.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," Jean spoke, her voice calm but passionate. "The mutant X-gene is not a disease. It is simply the next step in human evolution. We are your neighbors, your children—"
"Are we in danger?" a man in the audience interrupted, shouting over her.
"That's not the point—"
"Answer the question! Can you kill us with your brain?"
The crowd on the screen cheered for the heckler. Even in Times Square, Light saw people nodding in agreement.
"Damn muties," a man in a business suit muttered near him. "They need to be registered."
Light shook his head.
'Mutant Registration Act,' he mused. 'Naivety.'
Once aliens started raining from the sky and gods started fighting in Greenwich Village, people would forget all about the "mutant threat."
They would realize everyone was equally insignificant in the grand scheme of the cosmos.
"Come on, Gali," Light said, taking her hand. "Show's over."
He led her away from the main thoroughfare, cutting through a shortcut in Hell's Kitchen to get back to Chelsea.
The deeper they went into the side streets, the fewer tourists they saw. The buildings became older, the graffiti more aggressive.
They turned into a narrow alleyway. Shadows stretched long across the wet pavement.
Light stopped.
Three men stepped out from behind a dumpster. They were rough, wearing dirty tank tops that exposed tattoos of barbed wire and skulls. Behind them, two more stepped out to block the exit.
"Well, well," the leader said. He was a towering man, built like a brickhouse, with a scar running down his cheek.
He looked at Gali, his eyes gleaming with sickening predatory intent. "You lost, kid? That's a cute doll you got there. She'd fetch a high price on the market."
Light didn't flinch. He didn't look afraid. He looked at the man with the mild curiosity one might show a cockroach.
"Human traffickers?" Light asked calmly. "That's a low bar, even for Hell's Kitchen."
"Watch your mouth," the leader sneered, pulling a switchblade. "Hand over the girl and your wallet, and maybe we just break your legs."
Gali looked at the knife, then at Light. She took a step forward, her eyes narrowing.
Light put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.
"No," Light said softly. "I need the practice."
"Practice?" The leader laughed. "Get him!"
The big man lunged, the knife flashing in the dim light. He was fast for his size, but Light didn't need to be an expert martial artist to do what he needs to do.
Light raised his right hand.
He didn't dodge.
He didn't block.
He engaged the Vaccine Man Skill Fragment.
HUMMMMM.
A sphere of blinding blue-white energy coalesced in his palm instantly. The temperature in the alley spiked by fifty degrees in a fraction of a second.
The leader's eyes widened. He tried to stop his momentum, but it was too late.
"Goodbye," Light said cold.
BOOM.
He thrust his palm forward.
The energy ball didn't just hit the man; it erased him. There was a wet, sizzling sound as the beam punched a hole the size of a basketball cleanly through the man's torso.
The cauterized wound didn't even bleed. The man dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, his eyes staring blankly at nothing.
Silence descended on the alley.
The other four thugs stood frozen, staring at the smoking corpse of their boss. Then, panic set in.
"Mutant!" one screamed, stumbling back. "He's a freak! Run!"
"Monster!"
They scrambled, trying to flee toward the street.
"Gali," Light said, his voice devoid of mercy. "Stop them."
"Okay," Gali chirped.
She raised a finger. A wall of translucent purple energy shimmered into existence at both ends of the alley, sealing them in.
The thugs slammed into the barrier, pounding on it uselessly.
They turned back to face Light, terror etched on their faces.
Light walked toward them, another ball of energy forming in his hand, casting long, dancing shadows against the brick walls.
"You wanted to sell a child," Light said, the blue light reflecting in his cold eyes.
"Please! We didn't know! We won't tell anyone!" one begged, falling to his knees.
Light didn't pause.
He was in the Marvel Universe now.
A world of gods, monsters, and killers. Mercy to enemies wasn't a virtue here; it was a weakness.
If he let them go, they would talk. If they talked, HYDRA or S.H.I.E.L.D. would come knocking before he was ready.
"In this world," Light murmured, raising his hand, "you don't get second chances."
The alley filled with the sound of wailing, followed by the sharp, rhythmic blasts of energy.
Then, silence returned to Hell's Kitchen.