Marvel X The Boys

Alex's heart was still racing from the confrontation with Butcher. The raw power of the Gravity Pulse skill hummed faintly in his veins, but his legs felt like jelly. He had just knocked a guy halfway across the alley—a guy with murder in his eyes and a crowbar in his hands.

But before he could catch his breath, another ping echoed in his head.

System Notification

[SYSTEM UPDATE]

Congratulations! You've leveled up!

[LEVEL 2 ACHIEVED]

Stat Points Available: 5

A status window blinked into existence in Alex's peripheral vision, its glowing text sharp and vibrant against the dim backdrop of the alley.

"Level 2?" Alex whispered, staring at the screen. His body buzzed with excitement. He wasn't just surviving—he was growing stronger.

Status Window

[SYSTEM STATUS]

Name: Alex Harper

Level: 2

HP: 120

MP: 60

Stamina: 110

Strength: 12

Agility: 9

Intelligence: 8

Luck: 4

[Stat Points Available: 5]

[Abilities]

Gravity Pulse (Legendary): Unleash a wave of concentrated gravity to immobilize enemies or repel objects. Cooldown: 5 minutes.

Alex squinted at the glowing interface. "Stat points? I get to allocate stats now?"

He tapped at the floating icons, experimenting. A small panel expanded, showing descriptions for each stat:

Strength: Physical power.

Agility: Reflexes and speed.

Intelligence: Mental clarity and system affinity.

Luck: Well... it's luck.

"Okay, this is like every RPG I've ever played," Alex muttered, rubbing his chin.

The Others' Perspective

From the outside, Alex appeared to be talking to himself, his hands moving like he was trying to swipe at invisible flies.

Butcher narrowed his eyes, his grip tightening on the crowbar again. "Right. That's it. Kid's either a loony or high as a kite. Either way, we're not takin' chances."

"Maybe he's just... stressed?" Hughie offered weakly.

"Stressed?" Butcher echoed, turning to Hughie with a sneer. "Oh, sure. That's why he's makin' shadow puppets in the air like some bloody street magician."

"He's definitely talking to himself," Frenchie observed, blowing a ring of smoke. "And not in the charming way."

"Let's just give him a minute," Mother's Milk suggested, holding up a hand. "He doesn't seem dangerous."

"Not yet," Butcher muttered darkly.

Deadpool Makes it Worse

"Dangerous?" a voice chimed in from the shadows. "Aw, come on, he's harmless! Just look at him. He's like Peter Parker before the spider bite: awkward, nervous, probably bad at parties."

All eyes turned to Deadpool, who was perched on a crate like it was his personal throne. He waved enthusiastically.

"Still here, by the way! Thought I'd stick around for the drama. And boy, is it delivering. We've got mystery powers, edgy Brits, misty doom creeping closer—this is Oscar-worthy stuff."

Butcher glared. "You're not helpin', ya f***in' clown."

"Oh, I know," Deadpool said, hopping down from the crate. "But isn't it more fun this way? Besides, I'm not the one who looks like he's two seconds away from crowbarring a kid. Real classy, by the way."

Butcher ignored him, his attention snapping back to Alex, who was still lost in his status window.

"What the hell's he doin' now?" Butcher growled.

"I think he's picking stats," Deadpool quipped.

Alex Allocates Stats

Alex ignored the chatter around him, focusing on the glowing window. "Okay, five points... I need to be smarter about this."

Strength: 12 → 14Agility: 9 → 10Intelligence: 8 → 10Luck: 4 → 5

The changes felt immediate. His muscles tightened slightly, his mind felt clearer, and a strange warmth settled over him.

"Alright," Alex muttered to himself, closing the window. "Let's hope that helps."

When he looked up, all eyes were on him.

"You done with your little imaginary game there, sunshine?" Butcher asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"It's not imaginary," Alex replied, his voice steady for the first time. "There's... a system. I can see it. I can use it."

Deadpool gasped theatrically. "Oh no! He's got main character syndrome! Quick, somebody nerf him before he solos the campaign!"

The Mist Creeps Closer

Before anyone could respond, the air shifted. A low rumble echoed through the alley, and the golden mist surged forward, thick and malevolent.

Frenchie took a step back, his cigarette falling from his lips. "Ah, merde. That is not normal."

"Ya think?" Butcher barked, moving to the front of the group.

The mist twisted unnaturally, forming jagged shapes that writhed like living shadows. It filled the air with a suffocating hum, the sound of static and distant screams.

Deadpool cocked his head, watching the mist with a curious expression. "Okay, this is new. Creepy mist that looks like it's auditioning for a horror movie. I like it. Very atmospheric."

"Stay behind me," Butcher growled, his eyes locked on the shifting fog.

"I can help," Alex said quickly, stepping forward.

"Oh, you're helpin', alright," Butcher snapped. "By stayin' the hell outta my way."

Deadpool sidled up to Alex, throwing an arm around his shoulder. "Don't worry, kid. Let the adults handle this. And by adults, I mean violent maniacs with questionable morals."

"Hey!" Hughie protested weakly.

The mist thickened, and faint shapes began to emerge within it—shadows with long, twisted limbs and glowing eyes.

"Everyone stay sharp," Mother's Milk said, his voice calm but tense.

Deadpool grinned, drawing his katanas. "Alright, here we go. Mist monsters versus the dream team. Place your bets, folks!"

Alex clenched his fists, the hum of power from Gravity Pulse building in his chest. He had no idea what was coming, but he knew one thing for sure:

He wasn't sitting this one out.