The air reeked of gunpowder and blood. Smoke curled through the ruined street as sirens wailed in the distance, too far to matter.
The Dark Python Gang had underestimated him.
Watson crouched low, his breath steady despite the adrenaline surging through his veins. The battlefield was his now.
"Damn it, this kid's got a gun! Bro, you good?"
The panicked voice cut through the tension. The gang's leader, a lanky man with unruly purple hair, clutched his side, blood seeping between his fingers. His face twisted in fury.
"I'm fine!" he barked. "Keep your eyes on that door! Check if the guys we hit are dead! Fire at will! I'll make this kid pay tonight! Mouse, with me!"
Watson barely flinched. He had been waiting for this moment.
---
The Shadow in the Rooftops
Above them, hidden within the skeletal remains of an old building, Derick smirked as he traced a finger over the worn map in his hands. The Dark Python Gang had only sent five men, and Purple-hair was their leader. Eight shots earlier had already dropped two of their goons.
"But this purple-haired guy's sharp," Derick muttered. His keen eyes locked onto the last standing guard near the door. "One more to go? Heh, no problem. I'll pick them off one at a time."
The wind howled through shattered windows as he moved with predatory grace. Scaling the building, crossing the rooftop, positioning himself above the final guard—every movement was precise, deliberate.
Inside, the leader struggled with the lock, barking orders, oblivious to the hunter above.
Derick grinned. The game was over.
But before he could strike—
BOOM!
The night exploded.
---
Watson Strikes Back
None of them saw him coming.
Emerging from the billowing smoke, a figure appeared in the moonlight—a force of justice descending like a shadow.
Watson.
Left hand—hunter's dagger. He plunged it into the back of the guard at the door before the man could react. Right hand—Glock 19. Two precise shots followed.
The first dropped Mouse instantly.
The second struck the purple-haired leader square in the chest.
Three kills. In an instant.
Watson exhaled, surveying the aftermath. His lips curled into a grin.
"Didn't expect that… I was so nervous I forgot to yell, 'Demacia!'"
Ding!
Detected: The host has eliminated a member of the Dark Python Gang. Experience +5.
Detected: The host has eliminated Dark Python Gang's temporary leader, Mark. Experience +10.
Ding!
Host experience detected (20/20). Conditions met for leveling up. Initiating upgrade.
Watson's body tensed as a wave of raw energy coursed through him, igniting every nerve. His fingers twitched, his heartbeat quickened, and an electric sensation crackled in his veins.
Ding!
Host level meets requirements. Unlocking the lottery system. Activating mission system. Complete novice mission: Repel the enemy.
Watson smirked. "My game. My turf. My rules. You think I'm just saying that?"
---
The System Awakens
Mission Progress: Repel the Dark Python Gang (5/5).
Mission Status: Completed.
Rewards: Novice gift pack. 100 lottery points.
Watson felt the data flood his mind, his senses sharpening.
"Wait, I leveled up? And I got rewards?" His grin widened. "Let's see what this is about."
"System," he muttered, "show me the character template."
---
Character Template
Host: Watson
Occupation: Novice Hunter
Level: 2 (0/50)
Health: 100%
Status: Healthy
Constitution: Novice hunting physique (beyond normal human limits)
Permissions: 1 lottery (partially unlocked)
Monster Space: 2 slots (unlocked)
Backpack: Novice gift pack, 100 lottery points
---
"Alright, System. The lottery's unlocked, but first, let's open that gift pack—"
A familiar voice made him stop.
"Watson! Are you okay?"
---
A Family Forged in Fire
Watson turned to see Uncle Polk sprinting toward him from across the street, shotgun in hand, his pajama shirt flapping wildly in the wind.
Watson cracked a small grin. "I'm fine, Uncle Polk."
His eyes, however, drifted to the bodies on the ground—the gang insignia unmistakable. A coiled black snake tattooed on their necks.
Polk slowed, his face darkening. "The Dark Python Gang?" His voice trembled, not with fear, but with anger.
Watson nodded.
Polk's grip on the shotgun tightened. "Get inside. Now. We'll let the cops handle this."
But Watson didn't move. His gaze flicked toward the distant explosion, a storm brewing within him.
"Uncle Polk, I'm fine—better than ever." His voice was calm, but his fists clenched as he stepped toward the broken electric gate. "This isn't just about me. I need to get back what's mine. What was Uncle Rocco's."
Polk's expression hardened. "You think that car crash—Rocco's death—was their doing?"
Watson didn't answer. Instead, he raised a fist—
BANG!
With a single strike, the metal groaned, a deep dent forming where his knuckles met steel.
Polk's eyes widened. "A mutant? Could you be—?"
Watson didn't let him finish. "No matter what happens, I'm going to fix this." His voice was unshakable. "I'll finish what Rocco started."
Polk hesitated before pulling a second gun from his waistband. He pressed it into Watson's hand.
"I won't stop you," Polk said quietly. "But take this. No matter what you do, no matter what happens—come back safe."
Watson took the gun, nodding firmly. "Absolutely."
Without another word, he turned and sprinted toward the explosion.
Polk watched him disappear into the night, his heart heavy. "Rocco... I'll protect him, old man. No matter what he becomes."
---
The War Begins
Above the city, a red-and-gold streak blazed across the skyline—Iron Man.
In Harlem, a roar shook the streets as the Hulk smashed through the ruins of an abandoned warehouse.
In the shadows, Ant-Man moved unseen, unraveling the tangled web of crime that stretched deeper than anyone realized.
And somewhere far above, hidden among the stars, a pair of eyes watched Watson's path with great interest.
The boy had power.
But in a world of gods, monsters, and legends, power alone was never enough.
This was only the beginning.