Chapter One: Marvel and the Mercenary

At ten o’clock at night, beneath the dark sky, New York was still as lively as a sleepless city. Neon lights shimmered everywhere, their brilliance reaching even into the night sky, making everything visible beneath their glow.

A tall, strikingly handsome man dressed in a black cloak was flying low, a hundred meters above the ground, beneath the vast expanse of night. He moved with astonishing speed, yet not a soul noticed him—he seemed to merge entirely with the darkness.

Within this city stood a particularly conspicuous building, bearing the sign "Stark Industries" in bold English letters. The man gazed deeply at the tower; it was far from the first time he’d seen this iconic structure. No matter how many times he laid eyes upon it, both the building and its master, Tony Stark, served as constant reminders.

This was not the world of his previous life, but the perilous Marvel universe, teeming with superheroes and all manner of supernatural forces. If he were just an ordinary man, powerless and unremarkable, he would have to consider hiding as far away as possible. After all, New York in the Marvel world was no place for ordinary people. Not only would he be unable to stay here, he’d also have to pray that, in a few years’ time, he wouldn’t be wiped out by the snap of a certain purple titan’s fingers.

Fortunately, in this life, he was far from defenseless. He had awakened the Void System from League of Legends, granting him at least some means of self-preservation in this dangerous world.

The man flew for a while, then landed directly in front of a luxurious manor in Brooklyn. With practiced ease, he unlocked the door and entered. At that moment, his phone vibrated rapidly. He glanced at the new incoming messages:

"Reaper, after deducting a five percent commission, the remaining funds have been safely transferred to your account. Looking forward to our next collaboration."

"Dear Mr. Harvey Ambelaca, ZeroTech has deposited fourteen million two hundred and fifty thousand into your account."

"Your current balance is one hundred sixty-three million two hundred and forty thousand."

Harvey Ambelaca smiled at the string of zeros on his account—anyone would feel pleased seeing such numbers.

In his previous life, the man’s name had been Chu Wei, a true-born native of the Celestial Empire. In this life, he was Harvey Ambelaca, an orphan. The only person who had shown him any kindness was the orphanage director. Life at the orphanage wasn’t exactly comfortable or carefree, but it had been enough to see him into adulthood.

Two years ago, when he awakened the system, he gained the help of the League of Legends Void System, inheriting the power of Kha’Zix, one of the Void creatures. This granted him the ability to meld with the shadows and become invisible wherever darkness existed, a blade sharp enough to cut through steel, extraordinary physical prowess, and a nearly monstrous jumping ability.

Harvey also inherited the Void race’s long lifespan, and, most importantly, acquired the ability to absorb any energy-rich material to fuel his evolution.

With such power, Harvey Ambelaca had no reason to fear or hide his abilities. In the Marvel universe, being an ordinary man meant risking death at any moment—caught in the crossfire of battles between heroes.

Thus, his first priority was to figure out how to make money and improve his life. With near-permanent invisibility, he could slip into any place under the cover of night. He certainly had the power to rob the wealthy or even banks directly—but that would be illegal.

It wasn’t that Harvey was unwilling to reveal his identity; he simply had no interest in dealing with the FBI on a regular basis.

In the end, Harvey Ambelaca chose to become a mercenary. As long as the price was right, he would accept and complete any mission. Depending on the assignment, he could be called a killer or a bodyguard. Although this, in some sense, was also illegal, it did not interfere with his daily life.

Over two years of mercenary work had greatly improved his circumstances. He bought numerous manors and villas outright, and could afford any food or item he desired, all to further his evolution.

As for the orphanage, he had donated a million to repay that kindness. There was no need to offer more; such a debt was not one to be repaid with a lifetime. Harvey Ambelaca considered a million more than enough for those years of care.

Even in darkness, Harvey could see more clearly than in daylight. He strode down a long corridor to the living room, switched on the lights, retrieved a fine bottle of wine from the cabinet, and settled onto a luxurious sofa. Pouring himself a glass, he picked up a tablet and logged onto a certain dark web site.

There, contracts for assassinations, protection, and sabotage of various targets were posted. Harvey refused only contracts involving Asian targets; for all others—even military ones—he would consider the job.

Many things required by the world’s militaries could not be done openly. Every glorious deed was accompanied by shadowy acts. Military forces and wealthy individuals alike sought proxies to handle their dirty work, and for-hire mercenaries like him fit that role perfectly.

Harvey browsed the assignments until he found a particular one: a month from now, someone had to be killed in Afghanistan, under military protection. The minimum reward was ten million, with a potential maximum of fifty million, depending on performance.

Seeing the location and the detailed information the client had on the target’s itinerary, Harvey glanced at the year in the tablet’s corner: 2008. He immediately realized who the target was.

A mission requiring someone to eliminate a target under military guard, with a top bounty of fifty million, was clearly extraordinary. But the world was never short of desperate souls willing to risk their lives for money. Fifty million was enough for even a group of collaborators to retire comfortably.

How many jobs would Harvey need to take to equal this one? Still, he had no intention of accepting it. Instead, knowing Tony Stark was about to begin his journey as Iron Man, Harvey’s thoughts turned to which of his properties still needed insurance.

After more than two years as a mercenary, Harvey had long since stopped accepting small jobs—he took only the big ones, for the right price. Naturally, aside from this manor, he had more than just his 160 million in cash.

Since discovering he was in the Marvel universe and gaining his abilities, Harvey had been preparing: acquiring Stark Industries shares, buying real estate, and arranging for a variety of insurances.

He knew that once Tony Stark became Iron Man, New York would soon become a far more dangerous place. But it would also be time to make a fortune. With proper preparation, not only could he legally collect massive payouts from insurance companies, he could also reap profits from Tony Stark himself.

All he had to do was move away to one of his other estates in another city for a while. The prospect of so much money made Harvey smile involuntarily.

He would not take the Iron Man job. As Harvey continued browsing other bounties, a private message came through:

"Mr. Reaper, we have a special assignment for you."

Harvey pondered at the message. Specific assignments were uncommon among mercenaries, but with enough reputation and a high completion rate, occasional personal requests were inevitable. Such jobs always paid well, since they followed the mercenary’s own rules.

His last assignment—assassinating a high-ranking Afghan official—had earned him twenty-five million.

"If you’ve found me, you must know the price for requesting my services," Harvey replied.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, a bald, eye-patch-wearing black man saw the reply and noted that Reaper had not asked about the task itself, but instead went straight to confirming the fee. From this, he sensed an unparalleled confidence—arrogance, even.

Nick Fury had investigated Reaper before making contact. In the mercenary world, no one knew the true identity or appearance of the man called Reaper—only his black cloak and the fact that he accepted only jobs worth at least ten million, showing incredible strength.

Such high-value contracts were always dangerous and rarely guaranteed success, even with multiple teams cooperating. Sometimes, the target could be an entire, fully armed battalion of thousands, or involve infiltrating heavily guarded facilities to steal top-secret files.

Some tasks were beyond the combined abilities of his own agents. Yet, Reaper completed every job he took, regardless of difficulty or the precautions taken. If Reaper accepted the mission, the target would mysteriously die in the night, or the intelligence would vanish without trace, as if by supernatural means.

It was no exaggeration to say that, in just over two years, Reaper had become a living legend in the mercenary world. A saying circulated among mercenaries: if Reaper takes your job, you can sit back with a glass of wine and wait for your goal to be achieved.

These legendary feats, and the rumors of his extraordinary abilities, had reached Nick Fury’s ears and piqued his interest in meeting Reaper in person. But despite his resources, Fury could glean little concrete information beyond the known facts.

Contacting Reaper required a commission of at least twenty million, depending on the difficulty, and a non-refundable retainer of ten million once the job was accepted. Twenty million dollars was no small sum—it would take considerable persuasion and paperwork to move such funds and convince his superiors.

Yet, if it could advance the Avengers Initiative and bring Reaper into the fold, Fury believed the price was acceptable.

Once the funds were secured, Fury did not immediately reach out. Only when news arrived that the Afghan official had died mysteriously that night, and that Reaper was responsible, did Fury make his decision and contact Reaper through the dark web.

"I’m well aware," Fury replied, "and I hope my next words won’t offend you. But before discussing the details and price, we hope to meet face to face. The assignment is somewhat special."

Hesitating for a moment, Fury sent off the message, then waited anxiously. No one truly knew the origins of Reaper, largely due to his exclusive presence on the dark web.

"As long as the money’s in place, just give me the time and place," Harvey replied without hesitation.

"Tomorrow at 3 p.m., at this location. Is that acceptable?" Fury sent a map.

"Fine," Harvey answered after seeing it was in Washington, a glint in his eyes. He agreed to the meeting.