Despite the terrifying potential of his system, Lucian had no intention of destroying the world.
Yes, technically speaking, if he really wanted to, he could abuse the rules of this reality—hijack Marvel's self-preserving multiverse mechanics, twist divine-level powers, and turn the balance of the universe into a game board.
But he wouldn't.
Not because of some heroic moral compass, but because… well, who would provide him Wish Energy if everyone was dead?
Humans were his source of power. Their hope, their fear, their awe and fury—each emotion was currency. And the richest mine of emotion was Earth.
Why destroy your farm when you could cultivate it?
The tea had long gone cold.
Leo sat across from the Ancient One and Mordo in that eerily pristine drawing room tucked between dimensions. Questions had flown for what felt like hours. Most were sharp, probing, and riddled with meaning.
The Ancient One didn't miss a detail. Her eyes weren't just watching—she was weighing him. Measuring more than his words. More than his posture. She was trying to read the ripples in time itself around him.
And Leo played his role with the poise of a seasoned actor.
Every question she asked that could compromise him? Dodged. Deflected with humor. Disguised in half-truths. He offered just enough to feed her curiosity without exposing his hand.
And the best part? She bought it.
Not because she was naïve—no, this was the Ancient One. But because Leo had spent days preparing for this exact meeting. He had used the system's foresight and logic to construct a watertight persona—one she would believe. A dark hero. Mysterious. Powerful. Someone with secrets, yes—but not dangerous ones. Not yet.
Even Mordo, who had clearly disliked him from the moment he demanded "payment" for information, couldn't find a crack in his story.
When the interrogation ended, she opened another portal, returning him to the now-silent streets of Manhattan.
DING!
You have received 26,000 Wish Energy!
Leo blinked.
"…Holy crap."
He hadn't even been trying to extract energy from that meeting. But just sitting there, bluffing through a conversation with the most powerful sorcerer on Earth, had given him more Wish Energy than unleashing three minor villains into Times Square.
"Can't wait to see how much she'll give when I really surprise her," Leo muttered, a sly grin forming.
Then he turned his focus to Rui—the demon under his control, currently assigned to 'explore' the local vigilante ecosystem.
Five Minutes Earlier
The battle was already ending when Leo tapped into Rui's shared senses.
"Interesting…" Rui's tone was amused, cold.
Across from him, Blade—yes, the Blade—stood still as a statue, sword drawn, eyes wide in disbelief.
"You're surprised?" Rui whispered, his voice like silk soaked in venom. "You couldn't even cut through my webs. What made you think getting close would work?"
Blade didn't answer. He retreated. Fast.
His katana snapped back into its scabbard with trained precision, and in one fluid motion, he drew a pair of modified handguns. He pulled the trigger.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Bullets slammed into Rui's chest. Modified rounds, silver-tipped, blessed with garlic essence, UV micro-bursts—the works.
Each round punched into Rui's body, tearing holes through his pale skin and leaving behind visible craters.
But then… they healed.
Almost instantly.
His flesh sealed up before the silver even finished melting inside him. His body—no, his entire being—laughed off the assault.
Blade's hands trembled.
This wasn't like any vampire he'd hunted before.
"This isn't possible," Blade muttered under his breath.
"Oh, we're long past possible," Rui said softly.
He flicked his wrists. The blood-colored threads of his art shimmered in the moonlight, dancing between his fingers like serpents.
"You don't want to cooperate? Fine. I'll just… persuade you."
The color in Rui's hands deepened, his Blood Demon Art awakening. His presence twisted, thickened. Oppressive.
It wasn't just power—it was intent. The intent to dominate. To control.
And Blade felt it.
He had felt this exact kind of oppressive energy before.
Because it was his own.
The same pressure he exuded when stalking vampires through the underworld, when they'd tremble just from his approach.
Now it was turned on him.
"Blood Demon Art: Crimson Spider Cage."
The air snapped.
Dozens of blood-tipped threads shot outward, weaving into an inescapable net that shimmered like a red aurora. It came from above, the sides, the ground itself.
Blade didn't hesitate.
He vanished just as the web closed in, hurling himself through a crumbling wall and disappearing into the dark.
DING!
You have received 4,000 Wish Energy!
Lucian tapped his chin thoughtfully as Rui's memory faded.
"That's odd."
Blade's energy level wasn't high—barely in the D-class range right now. Yet the system had extracted far more than average.
It had to be the emotional intensity.
Shock. Fear. Helplessness.
Exactly what the system feasted on.
"Looks like Rui made quite the impression."
Lucian chuckled to himself.
In Blade's eyes, vampires were weak. He'd spent years hunting them. But Rui? Rui was something else entirely.
He was the first brick cracking Blade's worldview.
And the first step toward addiction.
Leo licked his lips. "We'll need to up the ante. Next time, maybe let him see Upper Moons. Or… maybe even Muzan."
Yes.
This was how you raised legends.
You didn't kill them—you humbled them.
Let them taste despair. Then watch them crawl back stronger… and feed you more energy in the process.
Back in the real world, the streets were still and silent. A faint fog drifted between the lamps of 13th Street, the city now half-asleep.
Lucian shoved his hands into his coat pockets.
"Back to the apartment. Time to roll the gacha."
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters – Director's Office
Coulson inserted a USB stick into the projector system, watching as a set of images filled the wall screen.
"These are the ones we've flagged. Fourteen individuals spotted near multiple supernatural incidents over the last eight weeks."
Nick Fury frowned.
The images showed fourteen figures—Asian, youthful, and all wearing suspiciously stylized clothing. Their faces were unfamiliar, but distinctive—like someone had drawn them from a fantasy manga and dropped them into Manhattan.
"They look… coordinated."
"Exactly," Coulson said, nodding. "We cross-referenced every image in our database. No matches. No names. No digital footprints. It's like they popped into existence two months ago."
"Just like Lucian ," Fury muttered.
His fingers steepled together as his mind worked through the implications.