Zayden was quietly enjoying his dinner when a man in a perfectly tailored suit walked over and sat across from him without asking.
"Hello, Mr. Walker," the man said calmly. "My name is James Wesley."
Zayden looked at him for a moment.
"You just introduced yourself and sat down without asking. There's also such a thing as manners."
Wesley ignored the comment.
"I believe you know why I'm here."
Zayden already had a rough idea.
The Mexican gang he had wiped out must have been working for someone much bigger.
Kingpin.
'Although this is the year 2005,' Zayden thought. 'Wilson Fisk shouldn't be that active yet... unless this universe is different from the MCU.'
"If we're speaking of manners," Wesley continued, "then I believe you should return everything you took from our associates."
Zayden smiled faintly.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Wesley's expression remained unchanged.
"Whether you return it willingly or we force you to do so is your choice, Mr. Walker."
He stood up and straightened his suit.
"You have twenty-four hours."
He placed a business card on the table.
"The card contains the bank account details. Transfer everything there."
Without waiting for a reply, Wesley turned around and calmly walked away.
Zayden picked up the card and looked at it for a few seconds before slipping it into his pocket.
"He really thinks he can threaten me."
He took another bite of his steak as if nothing had happened.
"I guess I just found another source of money."
This time, instead of a small gang, his target would be Wilson Fisk's entire criminal empire.
Zayden finished his dinner without giving Wesley another thought.
After paying the bill, he walked out of the hotel.
The valet was already waiting with the Rolls-Royce.
"Here are your keys, sir."
"Thank you."
Zayden got into the car and slowly drove back toward his mansion.
The roads were much quieter than before.
As he drove, he thought about Wesley's visit.
"So Fisk already noticed the disappearance of the Mexican gang."
That wasn't surprising.
A criminal organization that large would immediately investigate if one of its groups suddenly vanished.
"They'll probably try to investigate me first."
He wasn't worried.
There was almost no evidence connecting him to what had happened.
The only reason Wesley had found him, most likely cause of the money he got all to his name plus this mansion.
About thirty minutes later, he arrived back at the mansion.
After parking the Rolls-Royce in the garage, he walked into the living room.
The first thing he did was summon his system.
[Random Super Gacha]
Permanent Slots: 1/1
Current Permanent Ability: Galvanic Mechamorph (Upgrade)
Today's Temporary Reward: Graviton Template
Time Remaining: 11 Hours 37 Minutes
"I'll lose it tomorrow morning."
He closed the screen.
"I wonder what tomorrow's reward will be."
Every day was different.
He could receive an incredibly powerful ability.
Or he could receive something that was only useful in certain situations.
That uncertainty was part of the ability itself.
Still, he wasn't disappointed.
Upgrade alone had already changed his life.
He looked toward the garage through the window.
"My car alone is worth keeping that permanent slot."
After checking that every door and window was locked, Zayden went upstairs to his bedroom.
He set an alarm for the next morning.
"Hmm... I need to make myself more secure," Zayden muttered.
He thought about what he could do.
"Maybe I should build an AI for myself?"
He shook his head.
"Though Upgrade can only improve existing technology. It can't create something entirely new like a true artificial intelligence."
He thought for a moment before smiling.
"I need the template of a top-tier genius."
"Iron Man... or even Superior Iron Man."
"That would make things much easier."
With that thought in mind, Zayden closed his eyes and soon fell asleep.
Meanwhile, on the other side of Manhattan, James Wesley returned to Wilson Fisk's mansion.
The dining room was quiet.
Wilson Fisk sat alone at the large dining table, calmly eating dinner while looking out at the New York City skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Wesley walked into the room.
"Did you recover the money from the Mexicans?" Fisk asked without looking away from the window.
"No."
Wesley placed a file on the table.
"Surprisingly, the person connected to the missing money is a sixteen-year-old boy named Zayden Walker."
"He was in a coma until just a few weeks ago."
Fisk finally looked at the file.
"A sixteen-year-old?"
"Yes."
He opened the file and quietly read through it.
"Find out how this boy became connected to the Mexican gang," Fisk said.
"And did you learn what happened to them?"
Wesley handed him another report.
"It's the preliminary report from the NYPD."
Fisk looked through the photographs.
Flattened cargo containers.
Pools of blood.
Twisted steel.
Not a single intact building remained.
Even the experienced detectives had been unable to explain what had caused such destruction.
"They couldn't identify any explosives or known weapons," Wesley said. "They still don't know what created damage on this scale."
Fisk remained silent for several moments.
Then he closed the file.
"Whatever caused this..."
"I want it."
"If it's a weapon, find it."
"If it's a person..."
He paused.
"Bring that person to me."
Wesley gave a respectful nod.
"I understand."
He picked up the files and quietly left the room, leaving Fisk alone with the city lights beyond the window.
Next Morning
Zayden woke up to the sound of his alarm clock.
He reached over, turned it off, and sat up on his bed.
After stretching, he activated his Random Super Gacha.
Inside his mind, a large wheel appeared and began spinning rapidly.
A few seconds later, it slowed down and stopped on a blue section.
A stream of information entered his mind.
"Dumbledore Template, huh?"
The moment he accepted the template, an elegant wand appeared in his hand.
It was the Elder Wand.
"I wonder if I can keep all of Dumbledore's knowledge and memories, then learn magic on my own later," Zayden muttered.