"It's so lively outside. What's going on?"
Alex Ray stepped into the restaurant just in time to witness the chaotic scene. The place was packed to the brim.
What the tourists saw outside was only a portion of the superheroes present.
Inside the Good Luck Restaurant, the real gathering had already begun. Seated at tables and standing in casual clusters were legends: Thor, Doctor Octopus, Deadpool, Wanda, Kingpin, Doctor Strange, and many others—heroes and anti-heroes alike, all tied to the history and rebirth of Hell's Kitchen.
Wanda rushed to Alex the moment she saw him. Without hesitation, she threw her arms around him, clinging to him like he might disappear again if she let go.
Her embrace was tight, trembling slightly—overflowing with joy at their reunion and a thin veil of worry that lingered unspoken.
The crowd around them watched the scene with warm, almost familial smiles. There was no mockery, only quiet blessings and a touch of envy for such raw, unfiltered emotion.
"I'm sorry for making you worry," Alex murmured, his voice soft, his tone filled with remorse and affection. His fingers gently stroked Wanda's hair, each movement a silent message of gratitude and apology.
From nearby, Pietro Maximoff, aka Quicksilver, chimed in through a mouthful of potato chips. "Wanda set up that tour group for Hell's Kitchen. I didn't think it'd blow up this much. The streets are full of gawking tourists right now. Kinda proud of it, not gonna lie."
There was a smug satisfaction in his voice, like he'd somehow contributed by merely being fast enough to pass out flyers.
Around the restaurant, familiar faces came into view, each with their own reactions to Alex's return.
Logan, known better as Wolverine, sat silently in a shadowed corner, a glass of bourbon in hand. He didn't speak, didn't smile—but the simple fact that he was here, toasting quietly to Alex's return, said everything.
Magneto and Professor X sat across from each other at a chessboard in the corner. They played their game with subtle smiles, occasionally looking up to exchange nods. Their expressions were peaceful—an unspoken respect between old friends—and a visible relief that Alex was back.
Doctor Strange gave a small nod and a knowing smile, his eyes deeper than ever. Wisdom shimmered in them, as though he could see through time and possibility—but for now, he simply extended a warm welcome with a gesture that felt as ancient as it was sincere.
At a booth near the bar, Wilson Fisk, the ruthless Kingpin himself, gazed at Alex. For once, his expression was softened. No menace, no calculations—just a flicker of rare warmth. Pride. Affection. Relief. A father figure watching his godson return alive.
Tony Stark, always a giant in intellect and ego, was reduced to something far more vulnerable in this moment. He munched distractedly on snacks, eyes fixed on Alex with a childlike mixture of joy, curiosity, and concern. He didn't need to say a word. Everything was written on his face.
Deadpool, usually a walking chaos engine, was unusually quiet. He gave Alex a brief glance—then returned his attention to the infant in his arms. Not his child by blood, but still his family. He once said that anyone who accepts him must accept his chaos too—including this tiny, unexpected life.
Deadpool rocked the baby clumsily, whispering nonsense lullabies with surprising tenderness. It was awkward, bizarre… and profoundly touching.
Soft lighting warmed every corner of the restaurant, mixing with the rays of evening sunlight that filtered through cracked blinds and worn windows. Shadows danced around the room, but they couldn't hide the emotion saturating every face.
It was a gathering of warriors, survivors, legends—and every one of them had longed for this moment.
Alex stood silently in the middle, scanning every familiar face.
Something warm stirred deep inside him. Not heat. Not adrenaline. Something quieter, stronger. Something sacred.
Home.
He took a breath. In that moment, he made a decision. No matter what trials the future brought—this place, and these people—were worth everything.
He slowly released Wanda from his arms. Their eyes met—silent understanding passed between them. No words necessary.
Wanda's smile was soft, full of joy, but also confidence. She believed in him. She always had.
"You know," Alex said, glancing around, "I haven't seen you all in six months, and it looks like every single one of you got a level-up while I was gone."
He chuckled lightly, then closed his eyes.
And in that instant, Alex activated his Observation Haki—a rare, honed perception beyond mortal means. He reached out not with hands or mind, but with awareness. Feeling. Energy. Power.
Wanda's aura surged before him—like darkness incarnate, draped in midnight silk. Her presence wasn't just powerful—it was ancient, commanding. She was the Witch of the Void, mistress of the unknown.
Kingpin's presence loomed like an extinction-level event. A destructive colossus cloaked in human skin. He carried the Frieza template—cosmic terror and ruthless dominance in every breath.
Doctor Strange shimmered like a fulcrum of reality. A man balanced between realms, a sorcerer wielding runes with precision. The flow of magic and equilibrium pulsed through him like music conducted by the cosmos itself.
Thor—his aura was thunder itself. Electric. Wild. A storm barely contained in mortal flesh. Mjolnir's energy crackled at his side like a sleeping dragon.
In the quiet corner, the two old titans of mutantkind sat calmly:
Magneto's aura was a swirling magnetic singularity—iron, steel, and war dancing around his mind's gravity.
Professor X's was the whisper of the mind. Quiet. Terrifying. Deep enough to strip souls bare. The game between them wasn't just chess—it was ideology, history, power in quiet conflict.
Then there was Tony—his aura unlike the rest. No mutation. No magic. Just steel and will and the raw hunger for progress. His body hummed with the energy of his suit, but in Alex's perception, it was more than armor. It was a living idea—knowledge given form.
And then... the King of Cards.
Once just a kinetic gambler. Now something else. His aura bent space subtly, like fate itself was pulled to him. The Card Master power radiated from his presence like he held destiny between his fingers.
These weren't just friends. They were legends in the making.
Not yet gods. Not yet true holders of authority. But close. Each one had the seed of something greater—something divine.
And while Alex observed them, others were observing him.
"Hahahaha! This is your godson, Kingpin? He doesn't look like much! What do you say—should I kill him and then you and I conquer the universe together?"
The voice dripped with sadistic glee and cosmic arrogance.
"Shut up, Frieza," Kingpin growled, his eyes flashing.
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Bonus Chapter - 150 Power Stones
2nd Bonus Chapter - 300 Power Stones
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