"Sir, I'm here."
A calm, mechanical voice answered.
"Find that idiot who was trash-talking me. I'm going to buy the company he works for and fire him!"
"...Searching," Jarvis replied after a brief pause. "Apologies, sir. I couldn't locate any place called that address. It appears to be fake."
Tony Stark frowned, irritation flashing across his face.
"Of course it's fake. Who would name themselves Hu Tao? Check the surveillance footage."
"Sir, I must remind you that accessing surveillance systems without authorization is illegal. Also, you initiated the exchange by calling the other party poor. Based on your own logic parameters, you are not in the right."
Tony let out a sharp laugh, clearly annoyed.
"Illegal? I'm Tony Stark. Billionaire, genius, philanthropist. Since when do the rules apply to me? Pull the footage. Find him."
"...Understood, sir."
A stream of data filled the screen in front of Tony. A moment later, a message appeared:
Access Granted.
Footage of Anqiluo Rocks appeared. From the moment he left the internet café to when he entered the church, every camera along the way had tracked him.
Tony leaned forward.
"This guy's a priest?" His voice carried a note of disbelief. "How does someone like that even pass as clergy?"
"Sir, here is his recorded information. He is not a registered member of any religious organization."
Jarvis projected a file onto the screen.
Name: Anqiluo RocksAge: 25…
"So he bought the church and just lives there?" Tony shook his head, amused. "And I actually argued with this guy."
He waved it off.
"Forget it. Have the New York office arrange to purchase that church tomorrow. Kick him out."
"Understood, sir. However, there are reports that the church is haunted. Are you certain you wish to proceed?"
Tony snorted.
"Ghosts aren't real. Buy it."
Anqiluo had no idea that a certain foul-mouthed billionaire had already set his sights on his church.
He was currently chewing through a badly overcooked steak, staring at a list he had just written, checking for anything he might have missed.
It was a ranking of Hell's Kitchen's worst.
No particular order. Just names.
Every major gang leader in the area was on it.
Illegal arms dealers. Pimps. Crime bosses of every kind.
All included.
If he wanted to finish before sunrise, he couldn't spend more than half an hour on each of them.
But getting people like that to "repent" in thirty minutes?
That would be difficult.
Then again, if it weren't for these idiots, Hell's Kitchen might actually have something useful—like an internet café. Instead, he had to go all the way to Brooklyn just to play games.
That alone was enough reason to settle accounts.
After forcing down the last bite of steak, Anqiluo made a decision.
Once he collected enough "donations," the first thing he'd do was hire a real chef.
These skeletons were hopeless.
They had no sense of taste, which meant they couldn't tell if food was good or bad. The fact that they could cook things properly at all was the result of long-term training.
The first time they made steak, they hadn't even removed the plastic wrap.
He glanced outside.
Night was falling.
Hell's Kitchen was waking up.
During the day, it belonged to New York.
At night, it belonged to criminals.
Even the police avoided responding to calls here after dark.
Anqiluo stepped out of the church and locked the door behind him.
Gunfire crackled in the distance, sharp and constant like fireworks.
He frowned slightly and summoned a suit of white bone armor over his body.
Not because he was afraid of getting shot.
He just didn't want blood splattered all over him.
With his current stats, even without equipment bonuses, something like a heavy machine gun wouldn't be enough to hurt him.
A bone spear formed in his hand.
He slowly reshaped it, smoothing the sharp tip into a blunt end until it became a staff.
He wasn't here to kill them.
Dead men didn't donate.
The wind tugged at his dark coat.
Under the moonlight, the white bone armor gleamed cold and pale.
If anyone had seen him standing there—bone armor, staff in hand, the ruined church behind him—they might have thought death itself had stepped out of the shadows.
Fortunately, no one did.
This was the border between Brooklyn and Hell's Kitchen.
People from Hell's Kitchen didn't leave.
People from Brooklyn didn't come here at night.
Anqiluo dragged the staff behind him as he walked forward.
The tip scraped against the ground, producing a harsh, grating sound.
Strength was temporary.
Style lasted forever.
The first to notice him were two gangs locked in a shootout at the corner.
The scraping sound cut through the chaos, making their skin crawl.
One by one, the gunfire stopped.
All eyes turned toward the approaching figure.
A gang leader stepped forward, raising his pistol.
"Hey! What crew are you with?"
Anqiluo didn't stop walking.
"I'm Anqiluo, priest of Rasuma Church. I'm here to preach. Interested?"
There was a moment of silence.
Then laughter exploded.
The entire street filled with mocking laughter.
The shootout had turned into a comedy show.
Anqiluo sighed under his breath.
"Yeah. Figured."
He didn't bother saying anything else.
He rushed forward, gripping the staff.
Time to "redeem" them.
He had come alone.
There was no need to summon anything against opponents like this.
The gang members didn't hesitate.
As soon as he charged, someone fired.
Bang!
Bang bang!
Rat-tat-tat—
More and more joined in, even switching to automatic rifles.
Gunfire filled the street, smoke and sparks swallowing his figure.
A normal person would have been torn apart instantly.
But something felt wrong.
The sound.
It didn't sound like bullets hitting flesh.
It sounded like metal striking the ground.
These people lived with gunfire every day.
They knew the difference.
The shooting gradually stopped.
The smoke began to clear.
Anqiluo stood there.
Completely unharmed.
The gang leader's face went pale.
Cold sweat ran down his forehead.
He remembered the rumors.
The haunted church.
Rasuma Church.
Criminals they might be.
But fear of the unknown?
That was universal.
"Give me that!"
With a sudden burst of desperation, the leader snatched an RPG from one of his men.
Without aiming, he fired directly at Anqiluo.
BOOM!
Flames and a violent explosion swallowed him whole.