[Marvel : Mutant God] Chapter 46 - 50

Chapter 46: Hulk is Wronged

Under the watchful eyes of Natasha and surrounding onlookers, Hulk soared through the air before crashing heavily at the far end of the street.

BOOM!

Though Richard hadn't employed his full strength, Hulk still flew dozens of meters before impacting the pavement, creating a visible crater upon landing.

The depression wasn't particularly deep, and the force of impact meant little to Hulk's incredibly resilient body. But compared to the physical damage, the blow to Hulk's pride proved far more significant.

Simply put, from his "birth" until now, Hulk had never experienced such indignity. Typically, he was the one who sent others flying. Now, he found himself on the receiving end of such treatment.

More critically, this humiliation had occurred before Natasha.

Unlike Banner, Hulk never concealed his affection for Natasha. This explained why she alone among the Avengers could coax him into relinquishing control to Banner.

Though Hulk didn't fully comprehend the complexities of romantic love, one thing remained absolutely clear: he didn't want Natasha to view him as inferior.

If Hulk's earlier emergence had stemmed from Natasha's unintentional words triggering his competitive spirit, now he experienced genuine rage—or rather, fury!

For Hulk, anger functioned like adrenaline in ordinary humans, dramatically enhancing his already formidable strength and durability.

Relatively unharmed, Hulk immediately rose to his feet, turned toward Richard, and released a roar reminiscent of some primordial beast. Then he charged at Richard like an enraged rhinoceros.

THOOM! THOOM! THOOM! THOOM!

Hulk's footfalls resonated like war drums—dull, yet conveying tremendous power. Each step left crater-like depressions in the hard pavement.

In mere moments, Hulk closed the distance to Richard and raised his right fist to strike.

Facing this onslaught, Richard didn't employ Teleportation to evade. Instead, he swung the Masamune with practiced precision.

Gravesong!

Four lightning-fast cuts materialized instantly, the razor-sharp blade of the Masamune repeatedly slicing through Hulk's massive frame.

SLASH! SLASH! SLASH! BOOM!

Unlike Richard's previous applications of Gravesong, the final strike not only carved through Hulk's body but sent him flying backward.

The concluding move of Gravesong always incorporated a repelling effect against enemies. However, Richard had seldom employed this aspect before, or rarely had opportunity to utilize the technique's full potential.

Ordinary mutant agents and normies typically fell to the first three strikes of Gravesong. Benjamin, the operations chief at the Los Angeles branch, might have experienced the knockback effect of Gravesong's final strike, but at that time, Richard's skill had been only level 2, without the fine control he now commanded.

Finally, Richard had found a worthy opponent to experience the full capabilities of his Gravesong technique.

Under everyone's astonished gaze, Hulk was propelled backward a second time, flying dozens of meters before crashing heavily onto the street.

Neither Natasha, who knew Hulk intimately, nor the spectators who had only read about him online had expected the massive green behemoth to be knocked away twice in rapid succession by someone of Richard's relatively modest stature.

Even Hulk himself hadn't anticipated this outcome. He had assumed he needed only minimal effort to crush the slender Richard. Instead, he hadn't even managed to land a single blow, while Richard had inflicted five or six wounds on his body.

Though unfamiliar with Richard, Hulk knew with certainty that he disliked him intensely. Just as before, Hulk quickly regained his footing and charged Richard again.

Once more, with a resounding impact, Richard sent him flying.

After realizing direct assaults proved ineffective, Hulk immediately changed tactics. He approached a nearby car, effortlessly hoisting it overhead. Then, wielding the vehicle as a makeshift projectile, he hurled it toward Richard.

Observing Hulk's strategic shift toward ranged attacks, Richard still refrained from using Teleportation. Instead, he relied on his natural agility to calmly evade the vehicles Hulk launched at him.

When a car could be avoided with a single step or half-step, Richard chose straightforward evasion, allowing the vehicle to sail past within centimeters. When dodging would require multiple steps, he cleaved the car in two with his Masamune, letting the bisected halves pass harmlessly by.

CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!

Hulk launched vehicle after vehicle as though their supply were inexhaustible. Despite his focused aim, none of the projectiles connected with Richard. In fact, watching Richard's calm evasions only intensified Hulk's rage.

Soon, all nearby vehicles had been commandeered and thrown by Hulk. These unfortunate cars now littered the street behind Richard like discarded toys.

Though Hulk's ranged assault failed to harm Richard, it created considerable danger for onlookers. When Hulk had thrown the first car, spectators positioned behind Richard realized Hulk showed complete disregard for their safety.

They had believed themselves adequately distanced from the conflict, able to safely observe the spectacle. Reality proved otherwise: witnessing superhuman combat at close range entailed significant risk, even for non-targets. Flying glass fragments and vehicle debris posed lethal threats to unprotected bystanders.

After several unfortunate individuals sustained injuries from shrapnel and wreckage, spectators filming with their phones recognized their status as mere onlookers, not front-line journalists obligated to risk their lives for headlines. Without prompting, upon seeing the injured, the crowd dispersed rapidly.

Neither Richard nor Hulk paid attention to the fleeing spectators.

When Hulk had exhausted all available projectiles, Richard elevated his Masamune and addressed his opponent.

"Your ranged attack is over. Now it's my turn."

With these words, he raised his right hand, palm upward, and channeled his internal mana.

Black Materia!

As his mana reserves depleted, a completely black energy sphere approximately 20-30 centimeters in diameter manifested above Richard's palm, resembling a miniature black hole.

For those unfamiliar with Final Fantasy VII, the name "Black Materia" offered little insight into the skill's nature. In reality, it summoned a magically-formed meteorite that descended from the sky to strike enemies.

In the game, Black Materia's power remained constant. However, the version Richard commanded derived its power directly from the mana invested. Simply put, greater magical expenditure produced larger meteorites with proportionally increased destructive capacity.

Additionally, Richard could determine the altitude from which the meteorite descended. In-game, meteorites typically fell from ten to twenty meters above targets. Here, Richard could freely choose whether the meteorite fell from mere centimeters away or thousands of meters overhead.

Higher altitude generated stronger impact force upon landing. However, it simultaneously reduced accuracy against mobile targets—unless the opponent remained oblivious to the impending celestial threat and stood motionless beneath it.

...

Chapter 47: What Should You Do With The Third One?

Hulk didn't recognize the technique Richard was employing, but upon seeing the dark energy sphere hovering above Richard's palm, he immediately sensed impending danger.

Though not considered an intellectual hero, Hulk was far from stupid. In fact, he could be quite perceptive when circumstances demanded—as the saying goes, big guys also possess "big wisdom!"

Just as Hulk prepared to vacate his position, he found himself bathed in an emerald light descending from above—the targeting indicator for Richard's incoming meteorite.

Not comprehending the significance of this green illumination, Hulk instinctively gazed skyward. There, he witnessed a meteorite several times his size plummeting toward him at tremendous velocity.

Had Hulk ignored the light enveloping him, he might have escaped before the meteorite's impact. Unfortunately, that opportunity had passed.

BOOM!

The massive meteorite, carrying devastating force, collided violently with Hulk. The thunderous impact reverberated across dozens of surrounding blocks, while the shockwave expanded outward with Hulk at its epicenter.

Windows along both sides of the street shattered simultaneously. Nearby buildings and the ground itself trembled violently, as though an earthquake had struck.

Witnessing this destruction, bystanders who had retreated due to Hulk's earlier car-throwing assault felt profound relief at having increased their distance from the combat zone.

How many powers does he possess?

Could genetic mutation really produce such abilities?

Just how powerful is he?

These questions raced through the minds of Natasha, the responding San Francisco police officers, and civilian onlookers as they watched Richard summon a meteorite from thin air to strike Hulk. Though accustomed to mutants with strange and extraordinary abilities, they struggled to accept the spectacle unfolding before them.

As the concussive air waves dissipated and airborne dust began settling, Hulk gradually became visible to Natasha and the others.

Rising from the crater, Hulk fixed Richard with a furious glare. Before he could act upon his rage, the emerald light engulfed him once more.

Black Materia!

Upon noticing Hulk's wrathful expression, Richard deployed Black Materia again, conjuring another massive meteorite—this time materializing barely half a meter above Hulk's head.

BOOM!

Before Hulk could react, the second meteorite struck him. Unlike the previous impact, however, Hulk wasn't knocked down. Instead, he raised his arms to intercept the falling projectile.

Given the minimal distance, this meteorite's impact force fell considerably short of its predecessor's. Though Richard could have expended additional mana to grant the meteorite terrifying acceleration even within that half-meter distance, he opted against it. Rather than wasting mana resources accelerating this meteorite, summoning another proved more efficient.

Leveraging his tremendous strength, Hulk withstood the meteorite's weight and cast Richard a contemptuous look.

Noting Hulk's disdainful expression, Richard smiled and asked, "What are you going to do with the third one?"

The third one?

Richard's voice reached not only Hulk but also Natasha and the distant onlookers. Under normal circumstances, those positioned hundreds of meters away couldn't possibly have heard him unless they possessed enhanced hearing. They heard him now solely because Richard wanted them to, using magic to amplify and project his voice.

With the meteorite weighing down upon him, Hulk couldn't see what approached from above. Natasha and the others, however, clearly observed a colossal meteorite exceeding twenty meters in diameter, breaching the atmosphere at tremendous velocity, wreathed in flames of atmospheric friction as it hurtled toward Hulk.

Under their transfixed gazes, this third meteorite slammed into the one Hulk currently supported.

BOOM!

The cataclysmic shockwave generated by this collision swept outward like a hurricane. Earth trembled anew as dust clouds enveloped the entire block. Even Natasha and others positioned hundreds of meters distant were bowled over by the concussive force.

Given another opportunity, they would undoubtedly have retreated a kilometer or more. Unfortunately, the world offered no remedy for regret.

Like Natasha and the others, Hulk now experienced his own regrets.

Spread-eagled on his back at the center of a crater exceeding one meter in depth, Hulk appeared as aggrieved as a one-ton child. In fact, that description was literally accurate—he was, indeed, a child weighing approximately one ton.

Though incapacitated within the crater, Hulk's physical injuries remained relatively minor. His psychological wounds, however, cut far deeper.

Moreover, he finally understood why Natasha had expressed concern for his safety. She hadn't underestimated him; she had genuinely cared for his wellbeing.

Observing Hulk sprawled within the crater, showing no inclination to rise, Richard teleported to the depression's edge.

"Get up," he said to Hulk. "I won't hit you with meteorites anymore, nor will I cut you with this blade."

Upon hearing these words, Hulk sat upright like a sulking child. "Hulk doesn't like meteorites," he grumbled, "and Hulk doesn't like your sword either." He raised his right hand, pointing accusingly at the Masamune in Richard's grip.

He truly is a child!

Richard smiled, shaking his head, then returned the Masamune to his system space. With a twist of his right wrist, he summoned a replacement.

Phantom Sword!

Before Hulk's eyes materialized a meter-long blade emanating azure light, resembling a masterpiece of art more than a weapon.

"Next, I'll spar with you using the Phantom Sword," Richard offered. "By the way, do you understand the difference between sparring and fighting?"

Though Hulk remained silent, he nodded to indicate comprehension.

"Since you understand, then rise and continue our sparring," Richard encouraged.

"Hulk wants to spar," the green goliath declared. "Hulk is strong. Hulk will not be defeated!"

With these words, Hulk stood and brushed himself off.

Though Natasha and the others couldn't hear this exchange, they observed Hulk emerging from the crater. They realized the confrontation between Richard and Hulk hadn't concluded, but also noted that Hulk's previous rage had subsided. He followed Richard from the crater with unexpected docility.

What happened to Hulk?

Natasha's brow furrowed in confusion at this transformation. While Hulk wasn't entirely uncommunicative, meaningful interaction with him typically proved challenging. Even she could barely connect with him effectively.

Under the watchful eyes of Natasha and the remaining onlookers, Richard and Hulk positioned themselves twenty meters apart. Then, simultaneously, they charged one another.

Hulk employed his formidable close-quarters combat techniques, massive fists repeatedly striking toward Richard. Richard, for his part, wielded the Phantom Sword with masterful swordsmanship, treating Hulk as a worthy sparring partner.

Thrust, point, strike, sweep, press, chop, slice, lift, cleave, hook, wipe, cut, pierce...

Though Richard executed only fundamental sword techniques rather than elaborate flourishes, these basic movements—performed with the Phantom Sword in his hands—possessed remarkable elegance and grace. His swordplay exhibited the agility of a flying dragon, his blade energy as vibrant as a rainbow.

Hulk's fighting style, meanwhile, paralleled Sabretooth's—both relying primarily on instinct rather than formal training.

Time flowed steadily onward.

Before either combatant realized, several minutes of continuous exchange had transpired. Richard's previous battles had typically concluded rapidly, feeling more like efficient exterminations than genuine contests. Though this engagement with Hulk constituted sparring rather than deadly combat, it provided Richard with a refreshing experience he had never before encountered.

Hulk possessed tremendous strength and formidable defense. When employing him as a sparring partner, Richard needn't fear accidentally delivering a fatal blow.

Hulk experienced a similar satisfaction. Previously dismissive of technical skill, he now observed with widened eyes, attentive to Richard's refined technique. He recognized that instinctive application of brute force alone didn't qualify him as an accomplished fighter.

In the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Hulk would only reach this realization after arriving on Sakaar. Thanks to Richard, Hulk preemptively acknowledged his technical deficiencies and recognized his need for skill development.

Just as Richard and Hulk immersed themselves in their mutually beneficial exchange, several missiles streaked from the distant sky, converging on their position with frightening accuracy.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The missiles struck their intended targets precisely. Deafening explosions filled the air as orange-red flames billowed outward in all directions. Accompanying the detonations came the distinctive sound of Department of Mutant Affairs fighter jets slicing through the atmosphere.

Soon the explosive flames subsided. When visibility returned, several massive craters marked Richard and Hulk's former positions.

Where did they go?

Upon discovering the apparent disappearance of both combatants, Natasha and surrounding onlookers immediately began scanning for signs of their survival.

The next moment, thunder reverberated across the sky.

RUMBLE!

Looking toward the source of this sound, Natasha and the others beheld an enormous lightning bolt descending from above. Rather than striking the ground, this thick silver-white discharge connected with one of the black fighter jets streaking through the air.

BOOM!

Though incredibly fast, the Department of Mutant Affair's black fighter proved no match for lightning's velocity. Under Hulk and the onlookers' transfixed gaze, the Department of Mutant Affairs fighter jet exploded in midair like an elaborate fireworks display.

The summoner of this lightning strike was none other than Richard. Before the missiles had reached their position, he had grasped Hulk's shoulder, executed Teleportation, and relocated both of them from danger before Hulk could even register what was happening.

Then, employing Thundaga, Richard had conjured a massive electrical discharge capable of obliterating the black fighter jets with a single strike.

...

Chapter 48: Fallen Symphony: Twin Fang

Before his fight with Hulk had concluded, Richard knew that the San Francisco branch of the Department of Mutant Affairs would continue sending reinforcements. Even if the mutant agents in the operations department weren't confident they could capture him, the San Francisco branch wouldn't simply turn a blind eye to the situation.

After destroying the black fighter jet with a massive Thundaga, Richard used teleportation to bring the disoriented Hulk back to the street.

Looking at the green giant who hadn't yet realized what had happened, Richard spoke deliberately:

"It looks like someone doesn't want us to continue our little game. Let's exchange one final move and call it a day."

As the words left his lips, a phantom sword materialized in Richard's left hand—a weapon that resembled a work of art more than an instrument of battle.

Upon seeing Richard summon another phantom sword, Hulk nodded with serious intent. Though unaware of what technique Richard would ultimately perform, the jade behemoth genuinely wanted to witness it.

Under Hulk's watchful gaze, Richard flourished the phantom sword in an elegant dance. Then, he raised both phantom blades and assumed a cross-like stance in his "Dual Sword Style"—the phantom sword in his left hand positioned forward, while the one in his right hand remained behind.

Though Hulk couldn't anticipate Richard's next move, something about the "Dual Sword Style" stance triggered an instinctive sense of danger within him.

Hulk's premonition proved accurate. Unfortunately, it came a moment too late.

In the second after this foreboding feeling struck him, Richard materialized directly before him and simultaneously swung both phantom swords.

Fallen Symphony: Twin Fang!

This technique wasn't inherent to any character template but was Richard's own creation. Despite being self-crafted, executing the Fallen Symphony: Twin Fang still consumed mana. Without this infusion of power, the phantom swords would deliver nothing more than ordinary slashes, devoid of any special properties or effects.

The twin phantom blades wielded by Richard connected with Hulk's chest in perfect synchronization. Though both followed downward arcs, the left-hand phantom sword slashed from Hulk's right shoulder to his left waist, while the right-hand phantom sword carved from his left shoulder to his right waist.

Hulk witnessed Richard appear before him like a specter, but had no time to counter. He couldn't even raise his hands in defense.

Chi Chi!

As the phantom swords completed their trajectory, a cross-shaped wound instantly manifested on Hulk's chest. Had the target been a normies or a mutant without Enhanced Durability, Richard's Fallen Symphony: Twin Fang would have guaranteed a fatal outcome without question.

But Hulk was no ordinary opponent.

Like the Gravesong Technique, the Fallen Symphony: Twin Fang possessed the capacity to cleave enemies into pieces.

Feeling intense pain erupt from his chest, Hulk was propelled backward uncontrollably, emerald blood spraying from the cross-shaped laceration.

BANG!

The force sent Hulk crashing through the wall of the building behind him, hurling him deep into the structure.

Despite the devastating blow, Richard was certain the injury wouldn't prove fatal to Hulk. In truth, he had no intention of killing the green goliath.

Though Hulk had initiated the hostilities, Richard understood that the behemoth hadn't truly wanted to capture or kill him. Hulk simply sought to prove to Natasha that he was the stronger of the two. His motivation stemmed purely from competitive spirit, not malice.

Hulk's mind operated much like a child's. As an adult, Richard saw no reason to seriously engage in conflict with what was essentially a child. Though he had taken many lives, Richard was no indiscriminate murderer—he wouldn't kill someone simply for displeasing him, especially not someone with a child's mentality.

Besides, he'd thoroughly enjoyed their battle.

Recognizing Hulk's absence of ill intent, Richard had deliberately restrained himself from the beginning. Otherwise, he would have opened with Octoslash at full power.

After delivering the cross-slash, Richard dismissed the phantom swords from his hands and teleported directly to where Hulk had landed. The green titan now lay amid the ruins of a restaurant's back kitchen, surrounded by broken tiles and scattered dishware.

"Let's end this here today. If we continue fighting, innocent people will die," Richard said to the still-prone Hulk.

Hearing these words, Hulk immediately nodded and sat upright. Just as he prepared to speak, Richard continued:

"You can tell Natasha that our fight ended in a draw. You couldn't touch me, and I couldn't kill you." He paused for effect. "After all, your body is incredibly resilient. Your strength and physique surpass my own."

With that, Richard extended his right hand toward Hulk.

Without hesitation, Hulk reached out and clasped Richard's hand. Though not as intellectually acute as Banner, and possessing a childlike mentality, Hulk could still discern others' intentions toward him—he could sense their underlying motives.

"Very well, until we meet again," Richard said. "I hope by then, your combat skills will have improved." He offered a friendly smile. "Come on, big guy, I'm counting on you!"

After giving Hulk a playful pat on the head, Richard activated his teleportation and vanished from the restaurant kitchen.

Once Richard had fully disappeared, Hulk rose to his feet and examined the wound on his chest, which had already stopped bleeding. Due to his extraordinary constitution, many people remained unaware that Hulk possessed regenerative abilities far beyond normal human capacity. Even with most vital organs destroyed, he could regenerate and recover.

Moreover, he maintained immunity to all diseases, poisons, chemical weapons, and biological agents. In the comics, his regenerative capabilities and survivability were so profound that he could endure decapitation with his severed head preserved in formalin. Not only that, but if his head were reunited with his body, complete recovery would occur rapidly, as though the injury had never happened.

While this universe's Hulk might not match the comics' iteration in raw power, his self-healing remained formidable. The scars Richard had inflicted would soon vanish completely.

After rising, Hulk didn't immediately leave the restaurant kitchen. He waited until the cross-shaped wound on his chest had nearly healed before departing to find Natasha.

Las Vegas

Having concluded his "little episode" with Hulk, Richard teleported all the way to Las Vegas, the infamous gambling metropolis. He planned to experience the city's unique culture and, if fortune smiled upon him, perhaps acquire some interesting mutant powers during his visit.

Unlike his previous approach, he didn't search for an uninhabited cabin near Las Vegas. Instead, he manifested directly in the heart of the city—specifically, on the rooftop of a casino.

Las Vegas stood surrounded by barren deserts and harsh wasteland, with no forests to speak of. This meant he could no longer "borrow" a middle-class family's holiday cabin as he had before. However, this posed no significant challenge for him.

His previous avoidance of city centers hadn't stemmed from an inability to disguise himself, but rather because the sparsely populated forest provided an ideal environment to practice his abilities. If he wished to reside in an urban center, he certainly could—though it would require additional precautions, such as effective disguise.

After consideration, he opted for his standard camouflage: sunglasses and a baseball cap. His flowing silver hair was indeed distinctive, but this didn't particularly concern him.

This brought to mind his fanbase.

Following the Los Angeles branch incident, a cult of fanatical followers who worshipped him had emerged in Los Angeles. Three months later, their numbers hadn't diminished—they'd grown substantially.

This phenomenon stemmed partly from the Department of Mutant Affairs' tireless "promotion" of his exploits. But it also reflected America's unique cultural landscape. In the United States, exceptional appearance, distinctive personality, or remarkable abilities could garner a devoted following. Even serial killers and criminals attracted admirers.

Before his transmigration journey, Richard had read numerous accounts of American criminals who'd amassed devoted female fans purely based on their attractive appearance. Back then, he never imagined he'd command such a following himself.

If after the Los Angeles incident his fans had been confined to that city, with only small local websites and forums dedicated to him, the situation had now evolved dramatically. Those once-crude personal websites and forums had blossomed into popular platforms with considerable traffic and registered members throughout the United States.

Richard had created an account on these platforms, though he never revealed his identity or posted content. He merely visited occasionally to observe his followers' recent activities.

Regarding his distinctive silver hair—many of his devotees, especially those with longer hair, had dyed their own locks silver in tribute. Even people who weren't fervent admirers had adopted silver hair after watching footage of him. The passionate protesters in San Francisco served as perfect examples.

Richard retrieved sunglasses and a baseball cap from his system space and put them on, then teleported from the casino rooftop into the vibrant city below.

Chapter 49: The Greasy King

As a world-famous "gambling city," Las Vegas never lacked tourists from across the globe, regardless of season or time. These visitors might not arrive with dreams of overnight riches, but few would pass up the opportunity to try their luck at the tables, hoping to be that rare fortunate soul who returned home with pockets full of winnings.

Though Richard wore only sunglasses and a baseball cap, making no attempt to conceal his flowing silver hair, he noticed that passersby behaved exactly as he'd anticipated—they glanced briefly at his distinctive locks before continuing on their way. The few who stared longer seemed to regard him merely as a middle school student with an unconventional sense of style.

Finding the pedestrians' reactions aligned with his expectations, Richard wandered through Las Vegas like any other tourist, taking in the sights and sounds of the vibrant city.

Like every major American city, Las Vegas housed its own branch of the Department of Mutant Affairs. However, unlike branches elsewhere, mutant agents stationed in Las Vegas shouldered an additional responsibility: preventing mutants from using their powers to cheat in casinos.

Strictly speaking, this duty fell outside the Department's standard jurisdiction. Yet in Las Vegas, mutant agents willingly accepted the task. The reason was simple—the casinos compensated them generously.

While the Department of Mutant Affairs offered salaries considerably higher than those of ordinary police officers—roughly $200,000 to $300,000 annually—this income, though substantial by American standards, wasn't particularly impressive for mutant agents given the life-threatening risks they routinely faced. Apprehending ordinary illegal mutants posed minimal danger, but not every unauthorized mutant proved so manageable.

Truly formidable mutants with power comparable to Magneto or Richard remained rare, but Beta-level illegal mutants were numerous. Since most mutant agents themselves possessed only Beta-level abilities, individual confrontations without backup offered minimal tactical advantage.

After exploring the city for over half an hour, Richard entered a renowned casino. Despite his status as an S-class wanted criminal on the Department's list, he encountered no obstacles and passed through the entrance as effortlessly as any ordinary visitor.

After exchanging several thousand dollars for chips, he circulated through the casino floor, surveying the various games before finally settling at a Texas Hold'em table.

Compared to blackjack and roulette, Texas Hold'em occupied a more specialized niche. Before his transmigration, Richard had played online Texas Hold'em casually and understood the fundamentals. Now, seated at the table, he experienced live Texas Hold'em for the first time.

Since profit wasn't his objective, he refrained from employing telepathy, instead simply savoring the experience of matching wits with fellow gamblers through pure skill.

The game was less about luck than about calculation and psychological warfare—determining probabilities, implementing varied betting strategies, maintaining a controlled demeanor while studying opponents' micro-expressions for tells.

Despite abstaining from telepathic advantages, whether through sheer luck or his naturally relaxed demeanor, Richard found himself winning more hands than he lost. Soon, his initial few thousand dollars in chips multiplied to tens of thousands.

As his winnings accumulated, his betting strategy evolved from conservative to increasingly aggressive. Normally, such boldness would quickly invite defeat—this precise stage often entrapped gamblers in addiction before they lost everything.

Yet tonight, the goddess of fortune seemed to have blessed Richard specially. Even with his increasingly daring plays, losses eluded him. Instead, his chip stack grew progressively higher.

Am I truly a Texas Hold'em prodigy? The thought flickered unbidden through Richard's mind as his initial few thousand dollars approached nearly one hundred thousand.

Perhaps impressed by his exceptional play, many gamblers began avoiding his table, seeking weaker opponents elsewhere.

"This seat looks promising—it should bring me good luck!"

A middle-aged man's voice, rich with magnetic charm, broke through Richard's contemplation.

Turning toward the sound, Richard beheld a figure exuding playboy charisma and untamed temperament. The newcomer wore a black cowboy hat and carried a metal cane in his hand.

Though they'd never met, Richard recognized him instantly.

The King of Cards!

Remy LeBeau!

Had this been the X-Men movie universe, Gambit would have been an elderly man in his sixties or seventies. But in this reality, he appeared significantly younger—early forties at most.

After briefly observing Remy LeBeau, Richard averted his gaze. Though he hadn't anticipated encountering the mutant, he didn't mind playing a few hands of Texas Hold'em against him.

Simultaneously, he mentally cataloged Remy LeBeau's abilities: infusing objects with potential and kinetic energy, mental shielding, hypnotic charm, precognitive senses, and enhanced physical attributes.

By mutant classification standards, Gambit exemplified a quintessential Alpha-level mutant—he lacked obvious mutant physical characteristics, his powers produced no detrimental side effects, and he excelled in combat.

Despite possessing five distinct powers as an Alpha-level mutant, Gambit's baseline capabilities weren't particularly overwhelming, especially in the X-Men cinematic universe. In the comics, however, his potential was vastly greater.

The comic version of Gambit, when fully actualized with powers functioning at peak capacity, could transform from flesh and blood into an energy entity called the "New Sun"—a being of pure energy. In this state, he could manipulate any object containing potential energy.

More impressively, his "New Sun" form enabled him to control targets telekinetically without physical contact, completely halting their movement or maintaining their momentum. This form also granted him space-time compression abilities, allowing free travel between different dimensions and timelines.

Formidable as the "New Sun" form was, it didn't represent Gambit's ultimate potential. Comics also depicted his "Death" form, wherein his power to inject and manipulate energy evolved into the ability to fundamentally alter matter—converting air into poison gas, for instance.

Physical contact with Gambit in his "Death" form resulted in mental domination, transforming victims into puppets that obeyed his every command. By completely enveloping an opponent with his energy, he could even seal them within a playing card.

In the comics, Gambit would represent a formidable adversary. However, in this universe, Richard felt minimal concern about any potential complications. If the card-wielding mutant provoked him, Richard wouldn't hesitate to claim Gambit's powers for himself.

After taking his seat, Gambit flash a smile that would make women's hearts race but struck men as somewhat slick, and casually appraised Richard.

From that first glance, Richard immediately decided he disliked Gambit's slick smile and calculating eyes.

Just as he prepared to speak, new mission information suddenly materialized in his field of vision:

[Mission: One-Winged Angel (II)]

[Mission content: Rescue "Scarlet Witch" Wanda and "Quicksilver" Pietro who are imprisoned by the Hellfire Club]

[Mission Reward: Shadow Flare]

[Task time limit: 1 week]

...

Chapter 50: Threatening Magneto

Rescue Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver?

After seeing the new task issued by the system, Richard frowned slightly.

He'd known that Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver existed in this world, but he hadn't expected them to be imprisoned by the Hellfire Club.

Are they trying to threaten Magneto?

Reading the mission details, Richard's first thought was that the Hellfire Club intended to leverage the twins against Magneto. But he quickly dismissed this theory.

Magneto didn't even know he had twin children—how could the Hellfire Club possibly know? Besides, Magneto wasn't someone easily threatened, even if Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver were his children.

Where Professor X maintained some semblance of saintliness and hesitation, Magneto was absolute in his ruthlessness.

The King of Cards couldn't see the mission information that appeared before Richard like a holographic projection, but he could observe Richard's expression.

"Not welcoming of a new player at the table?" Gambit asked, his Cajun accent lilting through the words.

Hearing the question, Richard closed the mission panel and replied with casual indifference, “Has anyone ever told you your smile’s a little too slick?”

What?

The King of Cards had assumed Richard simply didn't want him joining the game. He hadn't expected a critique of his signature charm.

"Slick? Never heard that one before. All I know is plenty of women appreciate my smile," Gambit replied, raising his eyebrows suggestively at the female dealer distributing cards.

The dealer wasn't one of those overtly sexualized croupiers often depicted on scam websites—just a woman somewhat prettier than the average passerby. After witnessing Gambit's eyebrow raise, she pointedly ignored him, instead asking Richard and another gambler if they wished to continue playing.

Clearly, she wasn't the type to be swayed by Gambit's slick demeanor.

Richard nodded, signaling for the game to proceed. The other gambler did likewise.

After realizing that neither Richard nor the dealer was impressed by his charm, the King of Cards tossed his chips into the pot and rejoined the game.

As with previous hands, Richard abstained from using his powers. Though uncertain whether Gambit was employing his abilities, Richard had no intention of cheating in such an inconsequential card game.

Time ticked away gradually. Less than twenty minutes passed before the third gambler lost all his chips, leaving only Richard and the King of Cards betting against each other.

With just the two of them remaining at the table, Gambit suddenly asked, "You also received an invitation?"

Invitation?

Could he mean from the Hellfire Club?

Upon hearing Gambit mention an invitation, Richard's thoughts immediately jumped to the Hellfire Club. This was partly because the system had just referenced the organization in its mission, and partly because he recalled that in certain adaptations, the Hellfire Club maintained a secret base in Las Vegas.

Had Gambit lacked mental shielding abilities, Richard would have instantly used telepathy to extract the information. Unfortunately, the King of Cards possessed precisely that defense.

Though unable to confirm the nature of the invitation, Richard displayed neither surprise nor curiosity, responding coolly:

"I don't believe I need to tell you anything."

Gambit’s tone sharpened, laced with clear displeasure.

“Boy, did I offend you somehow? A little too much arrogance for someone your age.”

Richard barely looked at him.

“Does staying calm still make me young?” he replied coolly, flicking his cards to the dealer — folding without hesitation.

The King of Cards narrowed his eyes, irritation flashing before he masked it with a smirk.

“If you're really that confident… why not take off the hat and sunglasses?”

On the surface, this seemed like simple provocation. But Richard understood that Gambit wasn't merely goading him—he had recognized Richard. Though Gambit couldn't detect telepathic intrusion and could only shield his mind, that didn't mean he couldn't identify Richard by other means.

"You lack the qualifications to ask me to remove anything," Richard stated flatly.

"Let's not debate qualifications. I just know that if I say a particular name, I can cause significant trouble for you," Gambit replied swiftly.

"If you have something to say, say it," Richard challenged. "Though I should mention one thing—after you finish speaking, the person in serious trouble won't be me. It'll be you." He picked up a chip and tossed it into the center of the table. "Don't believe me? Try it."

If his abilities permitted, Gambit would have gladly taught Richard a lesson in respecting elders. Unfortunately, he lacked the necessary power for such an endeavor.

While confident in his own abilities, he wasn't arrogant enough to believe he could handle Richard in a confrontation. Before arriving at the casino, he'd reviewed reports of Richard's battle with Hulk and watched bystander videos online.

Though not present at the scene, after witnessing those recordings—especially seeing Richard summon a meteorite against Hulk—Gambit understood he could never match Richard. In his assessment, Richard could easily level an entire city simply by calling down meteorites.

Gambit didn't consider himself weak, but he wasn't foolish enough to think he could defeat Richard.

Regarding the obstinate young man before him, Gambit picked up a round chip and rolled it between the fingers of his right hand. After a few seconds of tense silence, he conceded:

"Seems today isn't ideal for high-stakes gambling. Take your time."

With that, the King of Cards gathered his chips, stood, and left the table.

Richard remained indifferent to whether Gambit intended to find another table or exit the casino entirely. After Gambit's departure, he remained seated for several minutes.

When it became apparent that no one else would challenge him, he sighed resignedly, collected his chips, and proceeded to the cashier to exchange them for currency.

Afterward, he departed the casino with over $100,000 in cash.

Caesars Palace Hotel

After leaving the casino, Richard headed directly to the renowned Caesars Palace Hotel and checked in.

Though his S-class wanted status with the Department of Mutant Affairs prevented him from providing legal identification to the front desk personnel, this posed minimal difficulty. A subtle application of telepathy was all it took for the blonde receptionist—dressed in a fitted black outfit that accentuated her elegant curves—to use her own credentials to register him.

Additionally, when the attractive receptionist handed him the room key card, she slipped him her business card as well.

"I finish at six," she whispered, her voice low enough for only them to hear. "And I have tomorrow and the day after off."

Despite the receptionist's considerable attractiveness—easily a seven out of ten—Richard had no intention of pursuing further conversation with her.

This was the Marvel Universe, after all!

If one were to engage in profound discussions about the origin of life with the opposite sex, it should at minimum involve renowned female heroes or villains. One should follow Tony Stark's example—relationships with celebrities, supermodels, famous journalists, and magazine cover models—rather than settle for a receptionist who, while pretty, lacked both extraordinary beauty and the advantage of status.

Richard entered the recently renovated business suite, settled onto the living room sofa, and contemplated the mission to rescue Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver.

Though the system had issued the directive, it provided no detailed intelligence.

He currently possessed only two pieces of information: first, that Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver were captives of the Hellfire Club, and second, that the invitation Gambit mentioned might have originated from the Hellfire Club.

...