"How the hell did Hell's Kitchen find out about our mission? That leak is way too precise—damn it!" Liam Young panted as he cursed, his eyes flashing with disbelief.
He finally stumbled into a relatively quiet corner of the battlefield, gasping for air. Leaning against a cold concrete wall, he tried to steady his breathing.
Sweat rolled down his cheeks and mixed with the dust on his face, making him look completely disheveled.
Thinking back to the scene he had just escaped, a chill crept up his spine.
The locals in Hell's Kitchen weren't just aggressive—they were monsters in human skin. If he hadn't activated his invisibility skill in time, he'd already be dead.
Even then, his combat suit—rated to withstand fourth-level damage—was now in shreds, barely clinging to his body. One strong breeze, and it'd fall apart entirely.
Back in the Main God Space, he'd looked unstoppable: confident, fearless, overflowing with bravado. Now, dusty and battered, the contrast stung bitterly.
"Something's wrong—very wrong!" Liam shook his head violently, trying to clear his mind. "Since when did Hell's Kitchen get this powerful? They shouldn't have this kind of strength!"
"And if I'm not hallucinating... I heard someone shout 'Avada Kedavra.'" His eyes widened. "That's the killing curse from the Harry Potter universe! What the hell is it doing here? This doesn't make any sense!"
He paused, listening again—and the same bone-chilling incantation echoed through the air, forcing him to accept it wasn't a hallucination.
"Don't tell me… they knew we were coming," he whispered. "They were waiting for us?"
Wild guesses tore through his mind, each one more terrifying than the last.
As he'd been escaping, he noticed something strange—almost every fighter from Hell's Kitchen had a power rating of at least level four. None were weaklings.
And worse, their numbers were overwhelming.
There were only 200 reincarnators permitted per mission cycle. But Hell's Kitchen? They were crawling with defenders—far more than their numbers had accounted for.
In most parallel universes, Hell's Kitchen was barely defended—just a few D-list heroes or street-level vigilantes. But here...
Liam cautiously peeked up from the alley.
A swarm of Spider-Men was sweeping through the sky.
And on the ground? Deadpools—hundreds of them—conducting full-on grid searches.
Liam didn't think much of Deadpool's combat strength individually. The problem was their near-immortality.
If one spotted him, a fight would break out.
And once that happened, the commotion would draw in more heroes like a damn alarm bell.
These Deadpools were like living radars—impossible to shake off, impossible to kill.
If he fought back, he'd expose himself.
If he didn't, he'd be hounded to death.
He was stuck in a nightmare, and his frustration mounted.
"Who the hell said this was the Marvel Novice Village?!" Liam roared internally. "This is a full-blown Hell Dungeon!"
What truly made his scalp go numb was the cold, hard data on his reincarnation panel.
[189/200]
[200/200] (A brief rise—probably new substitutes entering)
[195/200]
Every time a substitute entered, someone died.
The turnover was instant—and it hit Liam like a hammer.
They were being wiped out. Systematically.
He knew that if things kept going at this rate, total annihilation wasn't far off.
And right now, he was watching it all unfold with his own eyes. Hell's Kitchen was in chaos—fire and smoke billowing across the district, explosions echoing from every block, debris flying like shrapnel.
The buildings trembled under the force of constant destruction.
It was like the entire dimension had turned into a battlefield—a living nightmare.
Liam finally saw the truth. This wasn't just a mission—it was Hell's Kitchen's vengeance. A calculated retaliation for what they had done across the multiverse.
The reincarnators had massacred over a hundred Hell's Kitchens in alternate timelines. In the beginning, they were cautious—checking corners, moving tactically.
But the more they won, the more arrogant they became.
They had thought of Hell's Kitchen as nothing more than a pit stop. A playground.
And now, their recklessness had come back to haunt them.
Liam clenched his fists. "Goddammit… I didn't even get any points from those previous massacres," he muttered bitterly. "And now I'm the one getting hunted. My luck is garbage."
But no matter how much he cursed, he knew this wasn't the time to drown in self-pity.
He straightened, eyes flashing with determination.
"No—I'm not done yet!" he whispered fiercely. "Hell's Kitchen is supposed to be a trial zone. A testing ground for us reincarnators."
"The bigger the storm, the bigger the treasure at the center. If this Hell's Kitchen is this tough, then this Marvel Universe must be hiding something even greater—something worth conquering!"
He inhaled deeply and forced himself to calm down.
He knew that as long as the reincarnators regrouped, Hell's Kitchen wouldn't be able to take them down easily again.
Right now, the locals only had the upper hand because of the element of surprise.
Once the reincarnators restructured their formation and regained momentum, they could absolutely fight back—and win.
As long as the high-level reincarnators acted, they could shift the tide in seconds.
But… why hadn't any of them acted yet?
Liam narrowed his eyes.
Something was definitely wrong.
— — — — —
Elsewhere, a calm voice spoke:
"As expected, the Main God Space is more complicated than we thought. Tell Logan and the others to pick up the pace. Doctor Strange and Kang can't keep the high-level reincarnators trapped forever."
A man stood above the battlefield, watching the chaos with a detached expression.
"I saw a lot of familiar faces today," he said, voice tinged with amusement. "It was worth every second I spent building this version of the dimension. I've finally broken in."
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