After leaving Mount Everest, Jue didn't linger. From the icy silence of Nepal, he flew straight to the restless heartbeat of New York. But instead of returning to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, he veered toward the Clinton neighborhood on Manhattan's west side—a place better known as Hell's Kitchen.
He had been watching this district long before his trip to Nepal. What he planned could never be done alone. Allies were useful, but in this world, alliances were fragile things—mutant factions, the Avengers, shadowy government agencies—each had their own ideology, their own interests, and most would gladly use him as much as he intended to use them.
A team of his own was the only answer.
The mutant community? Off-limits for now. Professor Charles wouldn't hand over the few powerful mutants he still trusted, and with Jue's current anonymity, no elite mutant would join him anyway. There was no need to sour that relationship.
Hell's Kitchen, however, was perfect. It was a place the powerful ignored, where potential heroes and villains alike simmered just beneath the surface.
But the neighborhood was tense. Erica had been killed saving Matthew, the Hand had found the "Dragon Bone," and street battles between the Hand and the Defenders had become almost daily. Kingpin's ambition to rule the area only deepened the chaos. Even the smaller gangs were in retreat, posting lookouts and avoiding the escalating conflict.
By the time night fell, Jue stood silently on a rooftop opposite the Hand's headquarters, shrouded by the Twenty-Six Lights of Binding—a Bleach kido art that rendered him almost undetectable. His inquiries back in Nepal had confirmed it: tonight the Hand would complete the ritual to transform Erica into the new Black Sky.
Jue didn't intend to stop them. In his mind, this was like the evolution of a Hollow in Hueco Mundo—only the strongest survivor mattered. But he would watch closely. Potential subordinates weren't easy to find, and he wouldn't let one die because of an unlucky twist. And Black Sky… he planned to take her.
****
Inside the top floor's secret chamber, the five leaders of the Hand were gathered.
"The Black Sky ritual is nearly complete," Murakami, freshly arrived from Japan, said to Madame Gao. The creature that birthed Black Sky's power was a legend from his homeland—his personal obsession.
"Soon," Madame Gao replied calmly. "The final awakening is underway. She'll be here shortly." Then she turned to Alexandra, who oversaw the excavation of the Dragon Bone. "And the dig?"
At the mention of the Dragon Bone, the others' attention shifted. The last fragments of that relic had already been burned away to create Black Sky. Without new ones, their centuries of unnatural life would end. Survival, not ambition, now ruled them.
"The excavation is done," Alexandra said gravely. "But the final seal requires the Iron Fist. Danny Rand is back in New York."
Madame Gao had been watching him ever since his return—ever since she'd taken the Rand Group for herself. "If he learns I lead the Hand, he'll come for me. We'll turn that into a trap, capture him, use his chi to break the seal, and claim the Dragon Bone."
The others began to nod when a masked ninja burst in. Gao's eyes narrowed, but she held her tongue—her people did not interrupt without reason.
"What is it?" she demanded.
"Black Sky was taken… while being brought here," the ninja said, kneeling without emotion.
"Where?" Gao's voice was steel.
The ninja turned, leading her to the scene. The other leaders followed. No one could simply steal Black Sky from under their noses—not without paying for it.
****
Across the city, in a quiet villa in New York's suburbs, Jue knelt beside Erica's still body. Spirit energy glowed faintly around his hands.
Like every great city, New York was full of hollow wealth—luxury homes bought and abandoned. Most had no security. For Jue, they were perfect safe houses.
"It's not resurrection," he murmured after his inspection. "Just a dark creature forced into her body."
His eyes narrowed. "But… the causal chain isn't broken. Her soul hasn't left—only hidden itself, dormant, waiting. That thing is just squatting in her shell."
The beast writhed within her, bound by the crimson light of the Nine Blows of Binding. Jue spoke to it, voice low but absolute.
"I'll let you live for now. Keep her alive. When the time comes, you'll fight her for this body. If she wins, she'll master your power—and then she'll serve me."
The beast stilled under his gaze. It had no
A tense silence weighed heavy over the Hand's top-floor council chamber in New York's Hell's Kitchen. The air was thick with incense and tension, the five ancient leaders seated in a circle like warlords awaiting omens. They had just returned from inspecting the site of the Black Sky's abduction — but even for veterans of centuries-old conspiracies, the scene had been… unsettling.
Murakami's voice, sharper than a drawn blade, broke the stillness.
"Tell me… what should we do now?"
Murakami's fury was personal. In the underworld of both the living and the dead, Black Sky was no mere asset — it was his clan's spiritual weapon, an heirloom that carried a reiatsu so dark it could rival an Arrancar's. Yet in New York, far from his fortified influence in Japan, Murakami's resources were thinner, forcing him to rely on Madam Gao and Alexandra's networks.
Madam Gao's tone was edged with worry.
"Aside from a shattered window, there were no signs of a struggle. Every ninja on guard was killed in a single blow — their spiritual pressure snuffed out instantly, like candles in a storm. The surveillance feeds? Worthless. Whoever took Black Sky moved as if they stepped through the Senkaimon itself… appeared from nowhere and vanished the same way."
Her centuries of scheming had prepared her for assassins, rival syndicates, even shadow wars with Kunlun. But this… this felt different. The scent in the air at the crime scene had been cold, alien, and faintly metallic — like the spiritual reek of a Zanpakutō after battle.
Botu, the European aristocrat of the Hand, leaned back with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. His survival instinct — sharper than any sword — made his priorities clear.
"The Black Sky can wait. The Iron Fist and the Dragon Bones cannot. The bones are our path to eternal life. If this… intruder is as powerful as you claim, we should accelerate our plans before others — perhaps even Soul Reapers — learn of them."
Murakami's glare could have cut steel.
"Without Black Sky, we can't force the Iron Fist to unseal the Dragon Bones. And you forget — Black Sky is not just a weapon, it is my weapon. My birthright."
Tubo, always quick to provoke, shot back.
"And if chasing your heirloom delays the excavation? The Dragon Bones are steeped in life energy — the kind that can warp souls and bodies alike. If we lose our chance, you'll have your Black Sky, but you'll be dead before you can wield it."
Sowande, from Eastern Europe, exchanged a look with Tubo. They had been quietly aligning against the Asian factions for years, and this was the perfect crack in Murakami's armor.
"The Kunlun warriors will not mobilize over the loss of one Black Sky. But if they catch wind of our excavation, they'll send more than street-level heroes. We focus on the bones first."
Madam Gao's smile was as thin as a razor.
"New York is already stretched thin with our watchers, smugglers, and enforcers. Diverting forces to find Black Sky weakens our hold on the Dragon Bones. We can't afford that."
Murakami looked around the room — Alexandra sitting aloof, Gao calculating, Tubo and Sowande conspiring. Even here, surrounded by supposed allies, he could feel the cold edge of betrayal. Without the Black Sky's spiritual intimidation, his dominance had been blunted.
Finally, he leaned back, his voice low with restrained venom.
"Then mobilize every available force in New York. Capture the Iron Fist in three days."
Alexandra's lips curved in approval.
"You'll have my people. Gao's as well. And together, perhaps we can make up for… recent losses."
Tubo tapped the table.
"And the street heroes? Daredevil, Cage, the spider… even the whisper of a Shinigami has been heard in Hell's Kitchen. They interfere too much."
Gao's eyes gleamed, her spiritual pressure leaking into the room for just a second, like a silent promise of violence.
"Then we remove them all. Iron Fist, his allies, the Soul Reaper who dares meddle — all swept aside. The excavation of the Dragon Bones will proceed… uninterrupted."
In the shadows beyond the council, the faint scent of sakura and steel drifted — as if someone, somewhere, had just drawn a Zanpakutō.