Respawned in Marvel: The Ultimate Hunter System - Chapter 9

Chapter 9: The Purple Gargoyle and the Theatrical Underdog

The transition from the blood-soaked concrete of the arena back into the grimy, smoke-filled holding area was jarring. As Veer walked through the chain-link tunnel, the heavy steel door clanging shut behind him, the deafening roar of the crowd was instantly muffled.

He didn’t get two steps into the room before Flash Thompson was suddenly in his face, vibrating with a chaotic, adrenaline-fueled energy that was entirely uncharacteristic of the school bully.

“Did you see that? I mean, of course you saw it, you were doing it, but man, did you see it?!” Flash practically yelled, throwing a wild, incredibly sloppy combination of punches at the empty air. “You just slipped under that huge biker guy, and then—’wham!’—you took his legs out! You were moving like a ghost! I thought you were gonna die, but you were just playing with them!”

Veer stared at the teenager, slowly wiping a streak of someone else’s blood off the shoulder of his torn grey hoodie.

“Eugene,” Veer said, his voice carrying that familiar, heavy exhaustion. “Please stop moving your arms like that. You look like a poorly coordinated pelican trying to take flight. If you actually try that in a real fight, your opponent will just die of secondhand embarrassment. Which, to be fair, is a valid psychological tactic, but it’s very hard to watch.”

Flash’s face flushed red, and he quickly dropped his hands, clearing his throat and trying to regain some semblance of his usual tough-guy persona. “I’m just saying, Singh. You didn’t suck out there. You actually made it to the final ten.”

“A ringing endorsement,” Veer deadpanned.

“He’s right, though,” a deep, gravelly voice interrupted.

Veer turned to see Marcus walking toward them. The massive bookie no longer had that dismissive, irritated look on his face. The sneer was completely gone, replaced by a cold, calculating respect. He stopped in front of Veer and extended a massive, calloused hand.

“Marcus Vance,” he said, introducing himself properly for the first time. “I apologize for the disrespect in the car, kid. I’ve been doing this a long time, and I usually have a good eye for meat. I looked at you and saw a victim. I was wrong. You’re a ringer.”

Veer looked at the extended hand for a moment before taking it, giving a firm, measured shake. “Apology accepted, Marcus. To be fair, I deliberately dress like a victim. It lowers expectations and really ruins people’s days when they try to mug me. It’s the little joys in life.”

Marcus let out a short, barking laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re a strange kid. But strange keeps you alive in the cage.”

“Speaking of strange,” Veer said, seamlessly pivoting the conversation. He leaned casually against the cinderblock wall. “Who is the guy with the white hair and the pristine pajamas? The one who looks like he wandered out of an incredibly dramatic shampoo commercial.”

Marcus’s expression instantly darkened. He glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting the man to be standing right behind him, before lowering his voice.

“That’s Kastro,” Marcus grunted, crossing his massive arms over his chest. “He’s the undisputed champion of this arena. Showed up out of nowhere about six months ago. He’s won the grand prize seven times. Nobody wants to fight him anymore. Men literally forfeit rather than step into the cage with him. He doesn’t just beat people; he dismantles them.”

Veer nodded slowly, tracing the torn fabric of his hoodie where Kastro’s claws had ripped through his ‘Ten’. “What’s a guy with that kind of skill doing slumming it in a Brooklyn warehouse?”

“Building capital,” Marcus answered flatly. “Tonight is his last fight. He put the word out to the organizers. After he takes the ten grand tonight, he’s buying a first-class ticket out of the country. He’s heading to Dubai. Going to compete in Heaven’s Arena.”

Veer’s breath hitched microscopically, though he kept his face an unreadable mask of mild interest. “Heaven’s Arena?”

“Yeah,” Marcus nodded. “That massive, two-hundred-and-something-story skyscraper in the Emirates. The Burj Khalifa, they call it on the news, but in the underworld, everyone knows it’s Heaven’s Arena. It’s the mecca for fighters. You make it to the top floors there, you’re set for life. Kastro’s aiming for the Floor Masters.”

“Fascinating,” Veer murmured. “Well, thanks for the heads-up. I’m going to go sit in a dark corner and question my life choices before the first round starts. Give me a shout when they call my name.”

Veer walked away, leaving Flash and Marcus standing in the hallway, and found an empty wooden bench in the shadowy corner of the locker room. He sat down, resting his elbows on his knees, and let out a long, slow breath.

His brain was rapidly attempting to process the absolute cluster-bomb of information Marcus had just casually dropped.

The Burj Khalifa was Heaven’s Arena.

“This is not just a Marvel universe with a few Hunter x Hunter powers thrown in,” Veer whispered to himself, dragging a hand down his face. “This is a composite reality. The worlds are physically merged.”

If Heaven’s Arena existed in Dubai, that meant the Hunter Association existed. It meant the V5—the leading nations of the world—were likely entangled with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the United Nations.

Veer quickly did the math. In his previous life, he knew the Burj Khalifa began construction in 2004 and was completed around late 2009. But here, in 2008, it was already fully operational as a fighting tower.

‘Wait,’ Veer’s eyes widened. ‘If the Hunter Association is active… when does the anime timeline start?’

He scoured his perfect memory. Gon Freecss took the 287th Hunter Exam. That took place in the year 1999 in the anime’s original timeline, but the 2011 reboot effectively modernized it. If this universe was following a modernized timeline…

He remembered a minor detail from an online forum he had read years ago. The Hunter Exam happened every January. If this was 2008, and the timeline was matching up with the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s birth…

“The 284th Hunter Exam just happened this past January,” Veer muttered, a cold realization settling in his stomach. “That means the plot of Hunter x Hunter doesn’t start for another three years. Gon is still a kid fishing on Whale Island. Killua is currently an active, prepubescent assassin murdering people for his family.”

The implications were terrifying. The Phantom Troupe was currently active and roaming the world. The Chimera Ants were nowhere to be seen. And simultaneously, Tony Stark was building his first Iron Man suit in a cave, and in a few years, a purple alien was going to try and snap half the universe out of existence.

“I cannot just coast by,” Veer sighed, leaning his head back against the cold cinderblock wall. “If I want to survive a world where the Hulk might get into a fistfight with Uvogin, I need to get obscenely, unfathomably strong. And I need to do it fast.”

As if responding to his desperate revelation, the familiar, sharp chime of the System echoed directly inside his skull.

The translucent blue screen materialized in the dim air of the locker room.

[Calculating Battle Royale Experience…]
[Danger Assessment: High (Kastro Encounter)]
[Effort Assessment: Moderate]
[Experience Assessment: Extreme (150+ Opponents)]
[Reward: +1400 EXP]

Veer stared at the number, his jaw slackening. “Fourteen hundred?”

Before he could fully process the massive bounty, the system chimes started going off like a rapid-fire slot machine hitting the jackpot.

‘Ding!’
[Level Up!]
‘Ding!’
[Level Up!]
‘Ding!’
[Level Up!]

The notifications cascaded down his vision, blurring together. The physical sensation was completely overwhelming. A rushing, roaring waterfall of pure, localized energy exploded from his core, tearing through his muscles, his bones, and his nervous system. It didn’t hurt; it felt like a violent, transcendent rebirth.

Every microscopic trace of fatigue from the free-for-all was instantly annihilated. The scratches on his chest from Kastro’s claws vanished, the skin knitting together seamlessly. His aura nodes, which had been aching dulling since his failed ‘Ren’ experiment, suddenly felt wider, smoother, and vastly more resilient.

When the rushing sensation finally subsided, leaving him feeling lighter than air and humming with terrifying power, the final screen settled in front of him.

[Hunter: Reached Level 20!]
[Free Stats Available: 40]
[Milestone Reached: Random Nen Ability Awakened!]

Veer sat up straight, his dark eyes locked onto the glowing text. A Nen Ability. He hadn’t expected to unlock one so soon, especially without going through the grueling water divination test and months of dedicated Hatsu training.

He mentally clicked on the flashing notification.

—

Nen Ability: Vampire (Specialization)

Description: The user manifests a Nen Beast that functions as an external aura battery. ‘Vampire’ can store up to 100x the user’s maximum AP. The stored aura can be drawn upon instantly to replenish the user’s reserves or fuel massive Nen techniques.

Constraint: As a Specialist ability, drawing aura from the battery while maintaining the ‘Enhancement’ affinity incurs a 60% leakage penalty. The user must actively shift their Affinity to ‘Specialization’ to utilize the stored aura with 100% efficiency.

—

“A battery,” Veer whispered, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face. “It’s an extra fuel tank.”

Suddenly, the shadows in the corner of the locker room seemed to warp and twist. The ambient light bent inward, and a strange, heavy pressure filled the air.

With a soft, sickening ‘pop’, a creature materialized in the air beside Veer’s shoulder.

It was hovering, suspended by leathery, jagged bat wings. It was only about ten inches tall, possessing a grotesque, humanoid torso covered in deep purple, almost translucent skin. Its face was a nightmare—a mix of a rabid bat and a starved demon, with glowing yellow eyes and a mouth far too wide for its skull, filled with needle-like teeth.

The creature didn’t make a sound, but Veer could ‘feel’ its thoughts pressing against his mind. It radiated an intense, ravenous greed.

‘Hungry,’ the mental projection hissed, its yellow eyes locking onto Veer’s chest. ‘Feed me. Give me the energy.’

Veer didn’t flinch. He looked at the demonic manifestation with the same detached annoyance he reserved for telemarketers and Flash Thompson.

“You look like a gargoyle that had a tragic accident involving a vat of toxic waste,” Veer deadpanned, staring the creature down. “And considering I just met you, asking for my life energy is moving way too fast. Buy me dinner first.”

The beast hissed, baring its needles, completely ignoring the joke. ‘Feed me!’

“Shut up and go back into your Pokeball,” Veer commanded firmly.

He mentally severed the connection, cutting off the tiny trickle of aura sustaining the beast’s physical form. The creature let out a silent shriek of frustration before violently imploding into a puff of purple mist, vanishing entirely.

“Creepy little parasite,” Veer muttered. “But undeniably useful. If I can store twenty million AP in that thing over time, I’ll never run out of juice in a fight. I just have to remember to switch to Specialization before I tap into it, or the system will penalize me.”

He pushed the thought of the Vampire beast aside. It was an empty battery right now anyway. He needed to deal with the immediate future.

He had 40 Free Stat points.

He pulled up his panel and made his decisions with the ruthless efficiency of a gamer optimizing a build.

“System. Put one point into Vitality. Ten points into Strength, Agility, and Perception. And dump the remaining nine points into Intelligence.”

‘Ding!’
[Stat Points Distributed. Commencing biological and neurological optimization.]

The upgrade hit him in a series of sharp, electric shocks that ran up his spine and exploded behind his eyes.

[Milestone Reached: Vitality crosses 20!]
[Bonus: +10 Maximum HP. HP Recovery increased to 0.2% per minute.]

[Milestone Reached: Intelligence crosses 10!]
[Bonus: +1000 Maximum AP. Passive AP Recovery unlocked at 0.1% per minute.]

Veer gripped the edge of the wooden bench as the world around him snapped into a terrifying, crystalline focus.

With Perception 21, the entire warehouse became an open book. He could hear the blood pumping through Marcus’s veins in the hallway outside. He could smell the specific brand of cheap gin the bartender was pouring on the balcony three levels up.

But it was the raw, physical power that truly staggered him.

He looked down at his hands, slowly clenching them into fists. His Strength stat was now 19. According to the System’s scaling, one point equaled a baseline of 500 kilograms.

He could now casually deadlift 9.5 tons.

He had the raw, unadulterated physical strength to pick up a school bus and throw it across a football field, without even utilizing ‘Ren’. Combined with his Agility of 22, he wasn’t just a Super Soldier anymore. He was a localized force of nature.

He pulled up his updated panel.

—

Hunter: Lv20 (36/231)
Affinity: Enhancement
…
HP: 220/220 [Recovers 0.2% per minute]
AP: 21000/21000 [Recovers 0.1% per minute]
Fatigue: 0%
Storage: 0%
…
STR: 19
AGI: 22
VIT: 20
INT: 18
PER: 21
…
Skill: Ten Lv2(48%), Zetsu Lv1(0%)
Ability: Vampire
…
[Quest]
[Library]

—

Veer looked at the holographic numbers, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face.

Kastro was a monster. Kastro had pseudo-Nen and the Tiger Bite Fist. But Kastro was still bound by the physical limits of a highly trained, un-awakened human.

“I don’t even need ‘Ren’ to fight you anymore, buddy,” Veer whispered to the empty room. “I am going to hit you with the force of a speeding semi-truck.”

“Meruem!” a voice shouted from the hallway, breaking his concentration. A handler with a clipboard poked his head into the locker room. “You’re up. Cage one. Move it!”

Veer stood up, his joints popping slightly as his new, devastatingly dense musculature settled into place. He pulled the hood of his torn grey sweatshirt up over his head, casting a deep shadow over his face, and walked out into the blinding lights of the arena.

—

The tournament was structured exactly as Marcus had explained.

The first round paired off the top ten tag-holders. Veer stepped into the cage against a man who looked like he ate professional wrestlers for breakfast. He was easily six-foot-six, weighing over three hundred pounds of pure, tattooed muscle.

The bell rang. The giant charged.

Veer, keeping his grand strategy perfectly intact, immediately began to backpedal. He looked terrified. He stumbled over his own feet, throwing his arms up defensively, letting out small, panicked gasps that the crowd could clearly hear.

The giant threw a massive overhand right.

Veer purposefully tripped, falling to one knee. The giant’s fist sailed over his head. As Veer “scrambled” to get away, he threw a wild, completely blind backhand swing, aiming for the giant’s leg.

He connected with the side of the giant’s knee, applying exactly two percent of his new 9.5-ton strength.

‘SNAP.’

The sound echoed through the silent cage. The giant’s leg buckled instantly, bending at a horrifying, unnatural angle. The massive man let out a blood-curdling scream and collapsed to the concrete, clutching his ruined knee, unable to stand.

Veer scrambled backward until his back hit the chain-link fence, panting heavily, looking absolutely bewildered by his own “luck.”

The crowd erupted in a mixture of groans from the people who had bet on the giant, and wild cheers from the few who loved an underdog.

‘Ding!’
[Opponent Defeated. +100 EXP]

Veer stayed in character, limping slightly as he exited the cage, pretending he had pulled a muscle in his desperate escape.

The second round, the quarter-finals, played out in an almost identical fashion.

His opponent this time was a fast, wiry kickboxer. The man threw a flurry of high kicks, trying to take Veer’s head off. Veer danced around them, slipping and sliding on the blood-stained concrete like a clumsy amateur.

After two minutes of exhausting the kickboxer, Veer let a glancing blow hit his shoulder—absorbed perfectly by his ‘Ten’—and used the momentum to spin around wildly. He threw a “desperate” clothesline with his eyes squeezed shut.

His forearm connected with the kickboxer’s jaw. Veer dialed the strength down to a microscopic fraction, but it was still enough to completely rattle the man’s brain inside his skull.

The kickboxer’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he dropped to the floor like a sack of wet cement, out cold before he even hit the ground.

Veer fell to his knees beside him, gasping for air, looking like he was on the verge of a heart attack from pure terror.

‘Ding!’
[Opponent Defeated. +100 EXP]

Up on the balcony, Flash Thompson was practically tearing his own hair out. “How does he keep doing that?! He’s literally the clumsiest fighter I’ve ever seen, but he keeps landing these fluke hits! It makes no sense!”

Marcus, standing beside him, wasn’t cheering. He was leaning over the railing, his dark eyes narrowed in deep, profound suspicion. He had been around violence his entire life. He knew what a lucky punch looked like.

And what the kid in the grey hoodie was doing… it wasn’t luck. It was a masterpiece of theatrical deception.

Down in the cage, the referee raised Veer’s hand. He had officially secured his spot in the semi-finals. Only four men were left in the tournament.

As Veer exited the cage, dropping the terrified act the moment he entered the shadows of the tunnel, he heard the announcer’s voice boom over the PA system.

“Ladies and gentlemen! We are down to our final four! In our first semi-final match, the undisputed king of the cage steps up to the plate! Give it up for the seven-time champion… Kastro!”

The warehouse absolutely exploded in cheers.

“And his opponent! The luckiest kid to ever grace the concrete, the ultimate underdog who just won’t stay down… Meruem!”

Veer stopped in the tunnel. He didn’t turn back to the locker room. He simply turned around, his dark eyes locking onto the cage.

Through the opposite tunnel, Kastro walked out into the blinding lights. His white hair flowed perfectly, his martial arts uniform completely pristine despite having just fought two brutal matches of his own. He looked calm, arrogant, and utterly untouchable.

Kastro turned his head, his sharp eyes cutting through the distance to lock onto the shadow of Veer’s hood in the tunnel. Kastro offered a small, chilling smile, bringing his hand up and curling his fingers into that devastating tiger claw.

Veer didn’t smile back. The theatrical underdog act was officially over.

He stepped out of the shadows and began his walk back to the cage. It was time to show the aristocrat exactly what 9.5 tons of force felt like.