Bang!
The coin hit the ground.
Ryuuto grinned. "Heh. Guess I win again. Being this good is honestly kind of depressing."
He turned his back on the carnage, brushing dust off his jacket as if he hadn't just erased Mindforge from existence.
[Ding! Mission complete. Double reward activated. You have obtained: Two Uchiha Itachi Data Fragments!]
[Five fragments remaining before synthesis: Hokage Character—Uchiha Itachi!]
Ryuuto's eyes widened. "No way… Itachi? That Itachi?!"
[Hehe, excited already, Master?] Shion's voice purred in his head, lazy and teasing.
He rubbed his hands together. "You're damn right I am! So how do I get the rest? New mission? Secret event? Come on, hit me with it!"
[There is a new optional quest,] she said, stretching the words out like she enjoyed watching him squirm. [Difficulty: Grade A. Reward: chance—not guarantee—of another Itachi fragment. Accept or chicken out?]
"Chance?" He snorted. "A mosquito's leg still counts as meat. Bring it on."
[Deal! Master, work hard, get rich, and ascend to peak—uh, whatever you humans call it—'handsome heaven'!]
"Flattery noted, partner. Let's keep wrecking worlds together."
[Mission: Locate and defeat the Mutant known as Ghoul. Reward: Mystery-tier loot.]
"Ghoul, huh?" His smile sharpened. "Whatever he is, he's going down."
The hunt began.
Ryuuto—S.H.I.E.L.D. codename Red Mirage—moved through the shadows of New York, his chakra-charged senses spreading across the city. Under his pressure, gangs, smugglers, and even hidden mutant syndicates stirred like rats in a flood. The underworld's calm shattered overnight.
Meanwhile, in the sleek chaos of a luxury base uptown, Quicksilver hurled a wineglass at the wall. Red liquid splattered like blood.
"A bunch of idiots! You lost again?!" His voice cut through the silence like lightning. "How hard is it to kill one guy?!"
No one answered. The men standing before him looked at their feet, sweating bullets.
"Pathetic," Quicksilver spat, his jaw twitching. "Ryuuto... Red Mirage… fine. If you're picking a fight with me, I'll end it personally."
Far from the city, Thor stood alone within a forgotten realm—a place where cosmic storms whispered ancient secrets.
He raised his hammer, lightning dancing along the haft. "Open the seal."
Nothing. Just darkness.
His brows furrowed. "Impossible. The Aether was bound here!"
He extended his hand again, summoning stormlight. Still, the air remained dead, empty.
Realization dawned—and fury followed.
"Malekith… you lying wretch."
Thunder erupted as he paced like a caged god, arcs of electricity cracking across the void. "No one steals from me. Not gods. Not mortals."
Hours passed. Then—a spark. A faint trace, feminine in nature.
Thor's lips curled into a cruel smile. "So… she took it. Jane Foster. You absorbed the Aether itself."
He tilted his head back, laughter echoing through the void. "Interesting. You'll make an excellent host. But the Aether belongs to me." His tone dropped to a growl. "Run as far as you want, Jane. I'll find you."
The storm exploded around him, lightning painting death in the air.
Beneath the bright lights of New York's underground, the Ghoul reigned.
The air stank of sweat, blood, and greed. In this illegal mutant fight pit, people screamed for carnage—and money flowed like rivers.
"Boss, we cleaned up big tonight!" a flunky said, lugging a briefcase full of cash. "Those idiots keep betting against your fighters. Easy money!"
The Ghoul didn't bother to look at him. His voice rasped like gravel. "Put it in the vault. Then schedule another match. I want more blood this time. The crowd loves a dead man."
The underling nodded, nervous, as Ghoul reached for a syringe filled with a dark green serum.
Under the harsh light, his face turned toward the mirror—grotesque, tumor-ridden, eyes pale and sightless. Yet his grin stretched, wide and hungry.
"Dead men make the best entertainment."