Chapter 435: Reincarnators Massacre the Multiverse's Hell's Kitchens
Hell's Kitchen, Somewhere in the Multiverse: Despair and Defiance in the Dark
"Demons!!!!" A shrill scream tore through the already uneasy night sky, like a helpless protest against the disaster about to strike.
"Run! They're demons!" People scattered in terror, their faces full of despair and fear, their eyes showing deep dread of a power they didn't understand. Some, in their panic, had lost their minds completely. They muttered to themselves and acted strangely, as if fear had swallowed their souls whole.
Hell's Kitchen, a neighborhood of this multiverse once bustling and chaotic, now lay in ruins, more battered than ever. Broken walls and wreckage were heaped like mountains. Fire raged through the rubble, and black smoke billowed upward, weaving with the night into an apocalyptic scene.
"Heh heh heh heh!!!" A sinister laugh came out of the darkness, like mockery from hell itself.
Those wielding superpowers moved like merciless angels of death, slaughtering the residents of Hell's Kitchen indiscriminately.
Their figures flickered in and out of the firelight and smoke. The weapons in their hands and the powers they unleashed were like Death's scythe, reaping innocent lives.
Some used weapons, sharp blades tracing streaks of silver through the night. Others used powers. With a flick of their fingers, they set off massive explosions or conjured terrifying illusions.
They unleashed these powers at will across the ruins, driving Hell's Kitchen into an even deeper abyss of despair.
The ones behind all of it were the Reincarnators from the Lord God's space. They wore outlandish clothes and cruel, smug smiles, cheering and reveling even as they slaughtered Hell's Kitchen's residents.
Their laughter echoed through the night sky for a long time, full of cruelty and triumph, like the whispers of demons, filling everyone with dread.
To them, this massacre seemed like a grand celebration, and they were its lofty masters, holding the power of life and death.
"Hahahahahaha! These are all points! Every one we kill gets us more points, and more points means more status in the Lord God's space! Hahahaha..."
One Reincarnator laughed madly as he swung his blade, his eyes full of greed and frenzy. To him, these innocent lives were nothing but cold numbers to trade for points.
"Kill!!!!! Hey, you over there, quit stealing my points! These insect lives are just numbers to me! Hahahaha..."
Another Reincarnator unleashed his power and instantly set off a massive explosion. Flames shot into the sky and smoke filled the air, and countless innocent lives vanished in the blast.
His face glowed with satisfaction, as if this massacre were just a game to him, a bloody game that brought him endless pleasure and fulfillment.
"Your blood will become my masterpiece! I'll use your lives to adorn my palace of art and make the whole world tremble before me! Hahahaha..."
A Reincarnator in an ornate robe waved the paintbrush in his hand, sketching bloody scenes in midair. The lives in those scenes writhed in agony, powerless to escape death.
A mad light shone in his eyes, as if these bloody scenes were his idea of perfect art, his most profound indictment of the world.
"Become my offerings, all of you! I'll use your souls to consecrate my great plan and make this world tremble beneath my feet! Hahahaha..."
The last Reincarnator raised the staff in his hand high and chanted an eerie incantation. Beams of black light shot from the staff, striking at the innocent souls.
His face was full of devotion and anticipation, as if these innocent souls were exactly what his great plan required, stepping stones on his road to success.
In this endless massacre, the residents of Hell's Kitchen could only struggle and wail helplessly, their eyes full of terror and despair.
The Reincarnators' wild, arrogant laughter stood in stark contrast to their wails, like two utterly different paintings: one a bloody carnival, the other a desperate struggle.
And this didn't happen in only one universe. In the Hell's Kitchens of dozens of universes across the multiverse, the same thing was happening. Different universes, different worlds, different residents, yet all faced the same fate: to become stepping stones for the Reincarnators' growth and sacrifices for their revelry.
The dark force seemed to have crossed the boundaries of time and space, casting its shadow over the entire multiverse.
As for why the Marvel Universe's own superheroes didn't come to save the people of Hell's Kitchen:
a crowd of people had suddenly appeared out of nowhere and started slaughtering civilians at will. However wretched a place Hell's Kitchen might be, it was still under federal jurisdiction.
The federal government's upper echelons had always had complicated feelings about Hell's Kitchen's residents. They might look down on these people living on the margins, seeing them as society's dregs. But they also knew full well that their own authority and reputation were tied up with the area.
So when these unknown killers appeared in Hell's Kitchen like ghosts, the federal government felt unprecedented pressure and humiliation. It was a direct challenge to their ability to govern.
Faced with the crisis, the federal government acted fast. It dispatched S.H.I.E.L.D. and its superheroes to help, and mobilized large numbers of regular troops to put the attackers down.
Shockingly, though, neither well-trained soldiers nor battle-hardened S.H.I.E.L.D. agents could do much against the Reincarnators. Their attacks vanished like stones dropped into the sea, doing no real damage at all.
The Reincarnators the Lord God's space had sent this time all seemed fairly strong.
At first the superheroes managed to inflict some casualties on the Reincarnators. But as the Reincarnators caught on, and more and more of them kept arriving,
the superheroes were intercepted before they could even reach Hell's Kitchen.
And in the Hell's Kitchens of dozens of universes, the local superheroes and supervillains alike were mercilessly crushed by the onslaught of the Reincarnator army.
On a high-rise, Spider-Man cut a desolate figure.
His suit had long since been torn to rags in the fierce fighting. He was wounded in many places, and blood had soaked his costume.
He hung limply from the edge of the building, his eyes full of despair and frustration, staring at these unknown enemies with confusion and fear.
Deadpool, the guy who was always joking around and swearing a blue streak, had been bound tight by the Reincarnators and was cursing them out furiously.
Not far away, Luke Cage lay in a pool of blood. His body was as strong as a mountain, but now it looked so fragile.
Bullseye, once a supervillain, had been torn apart, his eyes frozen in frustration and fear.
Inside Fisk Tower, Kingpin was still fighting back stubbornly.
His men had all died fighting. Only he remained, half-propped against a wall, facing these unknown enemies.
Even in this hopeless situation, there wasn't the slightest panic in his eyes.
With trembling hands, he lit a cigar, as if to savor a moment of peace in his final moments.
The Hand, the organization that had once ruled Hell's Kitchen, had been wiped out to the last man.
Their bodies lay strewn across the ground, silently telling of how brutal the fight had been.
Daredevil, the blind hero who fought in the name of justice, was being held up by the throat by a Reincarnator, his face full of frustration and rage.
These local supervillains and heroes all wore the same look of frustration, fury, despair and deep confusion.
In the final moments of their lives, they all asked these unknown enemies the same question:
"Who... are you people..."
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