The street grew more chaotic by the second.
Another wave of gang reinforcements arrived.
Luke was completely in the zone—fighting fiercely against them.Alone, his firepower suppressed an entire group of hardened criminals so thoroughly that none of them dared to peek out.
If word got out, no one would believe it.
Inside their homes, residents of Hell's Kitchen trembled in fear.
The explosions echoed across multiple blocks, shaking the night.
Gang shootouts weren't unusual here.
But nothing like this.
Tonight—
Something big was happening.
The gang members fighting Luke still couldn't figure out how many enemies they were facing.
The sheer intensity of the firepower convinced every single one of them—
There had to be at least ten people on the other side.
They would never imagine…
That it was just one person.
And even less—
That their opponent was a child.
Luke noticed more reinforcements arriving.
But this time—
It wasn't just one group.
Two separate factions showed up simultaneously.
And somehow—
The moment they stepped out of their vehicles—
They started shooting each other.
Gunfire erupted instantly.
Bullets slammed into cars, walls, bodies—
Chaos exploded.
With Luke added in—
It became a three-way battlefield.
BOOM—
A dumpster was blasted into the air, flaming trash scattering everywhere.
Gunfire rattled nonstop.
Explosions shook the air so violently it hurt to hear.
The battlefield echoed with Russian curses and English shouting.
The newly arrived group—
Was clearly Russian Mafia.
Luke stood calmly within his glowing orange Nen Energy Shield.
Every stray bullet bounced harmlessly off its surface.
Combat exhilaration surged through him—
Adrenaline pumping.
He threw grenades nonstop, almost enjoying himself.
Both factions kept getting hit by stray grenades.
Bodies were blown apart—
And neither side could even tell which side Luke belonged to.
"Kill! Kill! Kill them all!" Rost screamed even louder than Luke.
Tonight—
The Apostle's "glory" was in full display.
And then—
It escalated again.
Another group arrived.
Four vans screeched to a stop—
A large number of men poured out, wielding submachine guns, shouting in rapid Japanese.
The Yakuza had arrived.
Now—
It was a four-way war.
The Yakuza had the numbers.
They surrounded the Russians and the earlier group—
Opening fire from all directions.
Casualties skyrocketed instantly.
The Russians, cornered, snapped.
They stood up and fired back recklessly.
A wave of Yakuza fell.
The remaining Yakuza quickly took cover—
Returning fire.
Bullets crisscrossed the battlefield like a storm.
Blood soaked the streets.
From behind his shield—
Luke stared at the chaos, stunned.
"Damn… this is insane. Guess everyone decided to take a walk tonight."
Just as it seemed like the Yakuza would win—
Headlights flashed.
An SUV sped in—
Stopping abruptly.
Several men stepped out.
Two of them carried something massive.
Luke squinted—
Then his jaw dropped.
"Are those… RPG launchers?! Are you guys trying to start a war?!"
The launchers fired.
Two rockets streaked through the night—
Trailing fire—
And slammed directly into the Yakuza ranks.
BOOM—
BOOM—
The climax of the night arrived.
Then—
Silence.
The devastation stunned everyone.
Half the Yakuza force was wiped out instantly.
The original gang seized the moment—
Launching a counterattack.
Luke observed carefully.
These new arrivals—
Were almost certainly Kingpin's men.
Things had escalated too far.
RPGs weren't used unless things got serious.
Luke kept throwing grenades.
One landed near the rocket team—
They dropped their weapons and dove.
BOOM—
The SUV behind them was destroyed instantly.
With Luke attacking from one side—
And RPG fire from another—
The Russians and Yakuza were pushed back, screaming and collapsing.
Luke reached into his inventory—
Paused.
"…I'm out?"
All 163 electrified grenades—
Gone.
He clicked his tongue.
"These things are amazing. Definitely making more."
In the distance—
Sirens wailed.
The NYPD had finally decided to show up.
All night long—
911 calls had flooded in.
Ignoring it any longer was impossible.
The heavily armed group—Kingpin's men—left first.
They clearly didn't want police involvement.
The Yakuza retreated soon after.
Only the Russians remained.
When the police arrived—
The Russians turned their guns on them.
Officers barely had time to get out of their cars—
Before being hit by heavy gunfire.
Several dropped instantly.
The rest scrambled behind vehicles, firing back in panic.
Luke clicked his tongue.
"Damn… these guys are hardcore."
"Kill! Kill!" Rost kept screaming.
Luke rolled his eyes.
He removed his Iron Man mask and stored it away.
Time to leave.
Before leaving—
He glanced back.
A handful of Russians were suppressing an entire police squad.
"Wow. NYPD really sucks in this universe."
Not entirely their fault.
They came expecting routine cleanup—
Instead, they walked into a warzone.
Luke slipped away.
Turning a corner—
He ran into another group of Russians.
He froze.
They froze.
One of them stepped forward.
"Hey kid. Did you see a group of people run by? Which way?"
Luke bit his finger—
Pointed innocently.
"That way!"
"Move! Anatoli wants them alive!"
"URA!!"
As they rushed off—
A mischievous grin appeared on Luke's face.
"Trying to catch me? Dream on. Go eat shit."
He pulled out his skateboard—
Hopped on—
And casually rolled home.
Behind him—
Only chaos remained.
Gunfire still echoed.
Tonight—
No one in Hell's Kitchen would sleep.
Chapter 14: Aftermath
Luke climbed back into his room through the window.
He cracked the door open—
Checked downstairs.
Quiet.
His adoptive parents had gone to bed.
He collapsed onto his bed—
And fell asleep instantly.
After using his energy shield repeatedly—
He was completely drained.
He slept deeply.
Dreamed, even.
In his dream—
He became insanely lucky.
Fully geared.
Dominating raids.
Teammates shouting "GG! 666!"
When he woke—
It was already past 9 AM.
After last night—
The city had to be in chaos.
He got up—
Washed—
Went downstairs.
Matt Murdock was gone.
Only faint bloodstains remained on the couch.
Luke ignored them.
"Morning, Karen."
"Good morning, honey!"
Karen hugged him tightly—
Kissed his cheek.
Luke wiped his face casually.
Still not used to this.
Mentally, he was an adult.
Karen was barely in her 30s.
Attractive.
Not blood-related.
And she kissed him every morning.
Yeah… complicated.
Breakfast was standard American:
Toast, milk, bacon, eggs.
"Foggy didn't eat?"
Karen paused briefly.
"He had work. Already ate."
Luke nodded.
He knew—
Foggy was dealing with Matt.
The TV played morning news.
The anchor looked energized.
Last night's battle—
Was headline news.
The footage showed Hell's Kitchen—
Now sealed off by police.
Wreckage everywhere.
The report stated:
Five NYPD officers killed.
The scene—
Was pure devastation.
Broken glass.
Blood stains.
Burn marks.
"Like something out of hell," the reporter said.
Residents were interviewed.
One elderly woman said:
"This place was already hell. But last night? The devil himself came."
The report listed factions:
Russians
Local gangs
Japanese Yakuza
Then—
A blurry photo appeared.
A small figure.
Wearing an Iron Man mask.
Caption:
"Not Iron Man. Then who is he?"
Luke's fork froze.
"…That's me."
He'd been photographed.
Thankfully—
The image was blurry.
"Good thing I wore the mask."
He calmly ate his eggs.
No one would trace it back to him.
To the world—
He was just a 7-year-old kid eating breakfast.
Meanwhile—
At the top of Stark Tower—
Tony Stark stared at the image.
"…Am I that popular now?"
"Sir, shall I investigate?" JARVIS asked.
"No need."
He waved it off.
"Focus on Mark V."
Elsewhere—
At the casino—
A well-dressed man arrived.
Wesley.
"Any leads?" he asked.
"None… the dwarf vanished."
Wesley adjusted his tie.
"No one takes Kingpin's money."
The message was clear.
Back home—
Luke sneezed.
He thought calmly:
Kingpin wasn't at full power yet.
Hell's Kitchen was still contested.
Three factions had already appeared.
He locked his door.
Took out the bank card.
$210,000.
Time to spend.