[Mission accomplished.]
Character level: Iron-tier.
Upgrade: Not upgraded.
Cause of death: Drowning.
Freshness: Five stars.
End-of-life emotion: Fear.
Sentiment rating: Three stars.
Comprehensive mission evaluation: Four stars.
Newbie privileges being redeemed...
Reward: Bronze 2-star gift pack *1]
Jason recited the system notification silently to himself as he mentally opened all the gift packages.
[Congratulations on receiving the rewards: Combat Master, Pistol Mastery, Trap Mastery, Free Attribute Points: 6
The task has been updated and can be viewed]
An inexplicable surge of power flooded through his body.
A thin layer of calluses formed on his palms, and when he held the revolver, he suddenly felt as though he could hit whatever target he aimed at with deadly precision.
The coordination between his limbs and the sensitivity of his five senses underwent remarkable transformation, giving him an almost supernatural awareness—as if he could hear and see in all directions simultaneously.
Thinking back to the alley encounter, eight different methods for killing someone with his bare hands suddenly materialized in his mind—each technique guaranteed to be lethal with a single strike!
He still had 6 attribute points remaining. After brief consideration, he distributed them equally among strength, speed, and defense.
Immediately, Jason felt his blood rushing through his veins, his entire body infused with newfound power. The pain in his ribs began to itch slightly, and the discomfort instantly diminished by half.
Adding attribute points has a healing effect!
He opened the system panel again to review his updated status.
[Name: Jason
Age: 22 years old
Bloodline: Human
Status: Minor injury
Strength: 7 (average for normal people: 5)
Speed: 7 (average for normal people: 5)
Defense: 7 (average for normal people: 5)
Constitution: 5 (average for normal people: 5)
Will: 8 (average for normal people: 5)
Skills: Combat Master, Pistol Proficiency, Trap Proficiency
Ability: None
Items: None
Instance: Locked
Alternate Universe: Locked
Main task: Those who are guilty must be punished
Iron-tier target: 0/3
Newest quest:
Bronze-tier target: 0/1
Creed: Kill to gain redemption.]
Jason was surprised to discover that the Iron-tier hunt still existed, but the requirement had increased to three targets.
Additionally, a new task had appeared—hunting a Bronze-tier target.
He clenched his fists. In this dangerous world, he now possessed some power to protect himself.
But it was far from enough!
...
At the end of the rain-slicked street, Jason checked into a small, shabby motel for $30.
In an establishment of this caliber, no identification was required—perfect for his circumstances.
Entering the sparse room, he collapsed onto the bed and immediately fell asleep.
He had reached a conclusion.
Existing in this world, in this place—Hell's Kitchen—meant he could potentially die at any moment.
Why overthink everything?
Don't approach life and death with such trepidation. If something doesn't sit right, fight it head-on—how could there be room for guilt?
If any living person has a problem with me, Jason thought, let them try to kill me.
And if any dead person has an issue with me, we'll discuss it after I join them in hell!
The following morning, Jason left the motel, grabbed something to eat at a nearby diner, and headed straight for a newsstand.
As a devoted Marvel fan in his previous life, his first priority was determining whether this universe's values aligned with what he knew, and whether the timeline matched what he expected.
He noticed numerous headlines splashed across various publications:
"THE SECRET STORIES: STARK AND EIGHT SUPERMODELS TELL ALL"
"SENATOR ROSS: BEWARE THE EMERGENCE OF A NEW SPECIES"
"MY NIGHT WITH TONY STARK: EXCLUSIVE TELL-ALL"
"NEW YORK POLICE COMMISSIONER STACY SPEAKS OUT ON RED-SUITED VIGILANTES"
"STARK SPOTTED AT EXCLUSIVE MANHATTAN CLUB..."
While there were reports about enhanced individuals, street-level vigilantes, criminal organizations, and experimental genetic research, overall, this world didn't seem significantly different from the cinematic universe he remembered.
Most importantly, Tony Stark—the notorious playboy billionaire—was still living his extravagant lifestyle in the Big Apple.
It's not too late... nothing is too late yet.
Jason immediately formulated a development plan: work diligently in the shadows until the moment was right to astonish everyone!
When the time was perfect, he would rise up and... well, he hadn't quite figured out that part yet, but it would definitely be impressive!
The mere thought was exhilarating!
Additionally, he needed to find an opportunity to purchase a plane ticket to Sokovia. He was determined to locate the Scarlet Witch, regardless of the risks involved!
Not even Captain America himself could stop me, he thought with determination. But first, he needed to secure proper accommodation.
Jason circled around to the side of the newsstand.
He noticed several job advertisements, missing persons reports, and similar postings displayed there.
After scanning the options, he found nothing particularly suitable.
Returning to the front of the newsstand, he pulled out twenty dollars and handed it to the vendor. "I'm looking for employment nearby. Any recommendations?"
The newsstand owner, a heavyset African American man, accepted the money with a broad smile. "Of course! For someone like you, I'd recommend the restaurant on the next block over. Room and board included—all you gotta do is wash 3,000 dishes a day for $80!"
Jason frowned skeptically. "How many dishes does the average person wash in a day?"
"About six hundred!"
"Hell no. What else you got?"
"Well, you could head down to the end of the street and find a young entrepreneur named Jesse. You'd help distribute his merchandise. On good days, you might make several hundred dollars."
"Merchandise? What kind exactly?"
"Crystal meth."
Jason recoiled instantly, fixing the vendor with an intense stare, studying him carefully.
Lucky for you the system didn't identify you as prey, otherwise I'd be adding you to my list for later!
"Something else, please."
"Hmm..." The large man pondered for a moment before his face brightened. "Ah! The Hopewell Sanctuary next door is looking for a substitute priest. Any interest in that?"
"A priest?"
...
Hopewell Sanctuary stood before him—a shabby, run-down house of worship.
The two-story building featured a small hall on the first floor with three rows of pews on each side.
At the front stood a simple altar, adorned with a modest wooden cross bearing a roughly carved image of Jesus.
Notably, there were confession booths positioned on both the left and right sides of the hall—testament to the abundance of sin in Hell's Kitchen.
Father Julian, an elderly cleric with silver hair, frowned as he examined the young man standing before him, then scrutinized the credentials Jason had presented.
"You claim to have graduated from the School of Theology in China and completed a year-long internship at the Vatican?"
"Correct," Jason replied with unwavering confidence.
The newsstand owner had not only provided job information but also connected Jason with someone who specialized in document forgery.
Now Jason possessed not only a seminary diploma but also a U.S. driver's license and an internship certificate allegedly issued by the Vatican—complete with an authentic-looking seal!
Jason recalled what the newsstand owner had told him about Father Julian:
The old priest had devoted his entire life to his calling but had never visited the Holy City. Now in his seventies, he had finally saved enough money to fulfill his dream of meeting the Pope.
Because the church was situated in Hell's Kitchen's roughest neighborhood, no qualified candidates were willing to serve as his temporary replacement, forcing him to advertise the position publicly.
Father Julian contemplated for a moment before asking, "How many days did it take God to create the world?"
"Seven days," Jason answered promptly.
"What were God's first words?"
"Uh..."
Jason hesitated momentarily, but noticed the old priest glancing upward and subtly gesturing. Following his gaze to the ceiling light, Jason immediately understood: "God said: 'Let there be light!'"
"Final question: God created the first humans. What are the names of humanity's two biblical ancestors?"
Jason blinked innocently. "Could they be... Adam and Eve?"
"Congratulations!"
Father Julian enthusiastically shook Jason's hand. "That School of Theology in China must be an extraordinary institution to produce such a knowledgeable student! You've passed the examination with flying colors."
"Thank you, Father! I'm delighted that your lifelong wish to visit the Vatican will finally be realized," Jason replied, matching the priest's enthusiasm.
The two exchanged pleasantries and signed a straightforward employment contract.
Father Julian then gave Jason a tour of the church. The second floor contained three bedrooms, and Jason was invited to select one of the guest rooms for his use.
A small garden occupied the backyard, with the Hudson River visible just beyond a narrow path behind the property.
Unfortunately, the elderly priest evidently lacked gardening skills—the plants appeared neglected, with many wilting or already dead.
After completing the tour, Father Julian retrieved a suitcase from his room.
Jason raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You're leaving now?"
The priest handed him an envelope. "I plan to be away for three months. Here's your first month's compensation—$1,500. It's all I can afford. Father Kyle from St. John's Church will provide your payment for the subsequent two months. Hopewell Sanctuary is now in your capable hands!"
Jason accepted the envelope, and Father Julian presented him with a car key. "I have an old pickup truck that you're welcome to use during my absence."
Without further ceremony, the elderly priest turned and departed, his figure gradually disappearing down the street.
Jason experienced a surreal sensation—events were unfolding with unexpected... smoothness.
Just as he was about to close the church door, a dark-skinned hand stopped it from shutting.
"Dear Father Julian, I'm here to see you again~" a voice called out from the other side.