Three days after the Chitauri invasion, New York was already pretending to function.
Subways ran on skeleton schedules. Bodegas swapped shattered glass for plywood. In Midtown, construction crews were already arguing with Stark contractors over who got to loot the fallen Leviathan.
Grief had a deadline here.
Adrian sat on the fire escape, nursing cold coffee, and summoned the system interface.
[STATUS INTERFACE]
* Name: Adrian Hayes
* Race: Human (Sorcerer)
* Level: 2 / 10 (Grade 3)
* EXP to Level 3: 71%
[ATTRIBUTES]
* STR: 70 | AGI: 70 | END: 90 | PER: 90
* Cursed Energy: 100 / 100
Seventy-one percent.
He hadn't fought a single thing since the manhole incident. Just standing two blocks away from that sleeping curse had passively fed him experience.
Like a plant soaking up radiation.
Dangerous, but useful. He closed the screen and stepped back inside.
Sophia was already by the door, packing resumes into a folder.
"Diner on 82nd is hiring," she said without looking up. "Half their staff didn't show after the invasion. The manager is desperate."
"You don't need to do that," Adrian said. "I can—"
"You can what? Rob curses for cash?" She shot him a dry look. "Someone needs an income that doesn't dissolve into black mist. I love you, Hayes, but I'm not living off System gold."
Fair point.
"Just watch out for the Midtown checkpoints," he warned.
"I'm getting a job, not raiding a Hydra base. You be careful—you're the one who glows."
Once she left, Adrian headed out. He skipped the blindfold today. The sensory roar of the Six Eyes had finally dulled into a manageable baseline.
Through his vision, the city was painted in raw energy. Red lines highlighted structural damage; violet static marked where human grief was pooling into cursed energy
He wasn't here to play hero today. He was here to grind.
Two streets over, he spotted his target—a Grade 4 curse resembling a mangled rat with umbrella-like jaws scrabbling along a wall.
Fast. Quiet. Low risk.
Adrian cut off its escape, cornered it behind a laundromat, and threw a single, sound-reinforced punch. Todo's raw strength pulverized the spirit on contact.
[ +8 EXP ]
No loot drops. No grand fanfare. Just a clean, clinical kill.
He hunted for three more hours, putting down two more low-level spirits before turning back toward his apartment. Routine maintenance.
Then, the back of his neck prickled.
Across the street, a man in a sharp gray suit stood under a pharmacy awning, a phone held up just a bit too deliberately.
Not military. Not police.
DODC. They're already tracking the manhole incident.
Adrian kept his cool, letting Todo's physical instincts hide his tension. He ducked into a bodega, bought a water, and slipped out through a rear service alley. Twenty minutes of double-backing later, he was clean.
He returned home to find Sophia on the couch, wearing a new nametag: HI, I'M SOPHIA.
"Got the job," she beamed. "Nobody died. You aren't bleeding. I'd call today a win."
"A win," Adrian agreed, sinking into the couch beside her.
Outside, the city stitched itself back together. Deep underground, a furnace-hot curse continued to sleep.
And across town, a man in a gray suit opened a fresh file labeled: ADRIAN HAYES.