Twilight_Scribe
patreon
Chapter 6: The System Issues a Quest
🕑 Added 2025-10-07 15:34:37 +0000 UTC
"System, you really are the best~!"
Lucas stroked the blade of the Ultima Weapon.
As if resonating with his emotions, the sword let out a faint hum.
"Tonight, I'm heading to Hell's Kitchen." He muttered to himself.
Everyone knew Hell's Kitchen was the most chaotic place in all of New York—basically a criminal's paradise. If he wanted to find out who had gotten into that gunfight with the cops, aside from breaking into the precinct to interrogate that unlucky punk who got arrested, the fastest way was to poke around Hell's Kitchen.
With all the gangs in the area, news of a shootout that big must have spread like wildfire. Shouldn't be too hard to dig something up.
After settling on his destination, Lucas sheathed the Ultima Weapon and shifted his focus to practicing Garuda's inherited abilities.
The first skill: Garuda's Embrace. Use Garuda's talons to yank an enemy toward him—or pull himself to an enemy.
The second: Rook's Gambit. Lightning-fast slashes with Garuda's claws. In short: shred city.
The third: Aerial Blast. Summon a massive tornado to devastate everything in its path.
Lucas figured he should find somewhere isolated to test them out.
Without hesitation, he headed to an abandoned scrapyard. No people, no cameras—perfect.
"You'll do nicely."
He picked out a junked sedan and activated Garuda's Embrace.
A massive, translucent green talon materialized, clamped onto the car, and yanked it straight toward him.
"Holy crap!"
Lucas dove aside just as the car slammed into the ground, landing an arm's length from where he had been standing.
He scrambled up and checked the distance. Safe—barely.
Testing again, he found that whether pulling an object toward him or himself toward it, he always stopped one arm's length away. Built-in safety, apparently.
After a few more reps, he felt confident enough to try the second skill.
"Rook's Gambit!"
Claws flashed into existence, striking the sedan with such speed that afterimages blurred together. Within seconds, the car was reduced to mangled ribbons of steel—worse than scrap, like soggy noodles tossed in a heap.
"Damn! At this rate, if I hit someone with that, they'll be a pile of meat paste. They can take my last name!"
Satisfied, he prepared the final test. Standing well back, Lucas unleashed Aerial Blast.
A towering tornado erupted, ripping across the yard, green talons flickering inside its roaring winds. Everything in its path was torn free, hurled skyward, and shredded apart.
After ten-plus seconds, the storm calmed. What remained of the scrapyard was total ruin. Cars were no longer recognizable as cars—just heaps of shredded metal scattered everywhere.
Lucas nodded in satisfaction and gave his system a mental thumbs-up.
He'd considered trying a full Garuda manifestation, but her massive form and the storm she'd bring with her? That was begging for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attention. Not worth it.
"Oh, right—System, I won't end up petrified from using magic too much, will I?"
He was genuinely worried. In the game, every Dominant eventually turned to stone—even Clive. If that fate awaited him, it would be game over.
[Ding~ Host may rest easy. All drawbacks have been removed. No petrification.]
Lucas exhaled in relief.
With no looming side effects, he kept training his three skills until Gwen called, asking him to bring food for her and Helen.
Hospital meals were bland slop, designed for patients: bread, porridge, mush. Gwen had no appetite for them whatsoever.
Soon Lucas arrived with takeout—fast food, but better than porridge.
"Just this? You got home hours ago. Didn't cook?" Gwen eyed the burgers and fries, clearly disappointed. She wanted Lucas' cooking.
After all, as a transmigrator, Lucas had mastered various cuisine. He had conquered the entire family's taste buds—winning the title of head chef, even with two picky younger brothers. Every so often, he'd cook to elevate the family meals.
Hearing Gwen's complaint, he scratched his head. What could he say? He couldn't exactly admit he'd been out testing superpowers. So he just made up an excuse.
Seeing George stable had finally calmed Gwen and Helen, so their appetites returned. Starving, they dug into the food without much complaint.
Lucas, meanwhile, sat by George's bedside. The man still relied on a ventilator. Out of danger, yes—but unconscious. The doctors could only wait. Some of it was lingering anesthesia, the rest from his injuries.
If he woke up, things would be fine.
Lucas looked at the man he considered his father in this world. Fury flared in his eyes, his resolve to head into Hell's Kitchen tonight even stronger.
[Ding~ Host's determination detected. System quest issued: Identify the shooter who targeted George Stacy and eliminate their entire gang. Reward: an office on Manhattan Avenue—Devil May Cry.]
"…System, what the hell is this reward?"
Lucas blinked in disbelief. An office? That office?
[Ding~ As a demon hunter, the host requires a base of operations to receive commissions.]
"System, let me ask you again—are you possessed? You've straight-up mistaken me for Dante! An office named Devil May Cry? And what's this about 'taking commissions'?"
