Superpowers in the Marvel World

"What… what is this?"

Hit-Girl stared at Alex with disbelief, while the Punisher watched with keen interest, straining his ears for an explanation.

As frequent allies in their crusade against crime, they were well aware of Alex's unique ability—his eyes could devour any living thing his hands touched. This strange power had become a familiar part of their operations. However, what truly shocked them was the current anomaly: Alex hadn't laid a hand on the corpses, yet they were still drawn into his eyes.

Alex chuckled softly and explained in a low voice, "It's nothing much. My eyes were recently enhanced—they can now absorb targets automatically."

The recent changes in Alex's eyes had amplified all three of his ocular abilities. The most significant enhancement was to his Devourer's Eye. Previously, physical contact was required for activation, but now, as long as an enemy was injured by his spirit energy, the devouring process could begin.

In other words, anyone wounded by Alex's spirit energy would automatically have everything inside them seized, converted into pure spirit energy, and devoured. Simply put: a scratch meant death, and a touch ensured annihilation.

Alex had often grumbled about the inconvenience of having to manually touch corpses after battles. But now, with this upgrade, all that hassle was gone, and he couldn't help but feel elated.

"Your powers have improved again!"

Hit-Girl and the Punisher couldn't hide their envy. To ordinary people like them, who often found themselves outmatched in brutal battles, Alex's abilities were nothing short of miraculous.

If they had even one of Alex's powers, situations like this wouldn't require his intervention at all. Still, they knew better than to dwell on envy. Alex's abilities were innate, something they could never hope to acquire. Besides, they weren't the type to complain about their lot in life. Strength or no strength, they valued their bond with Alex. The stronger he was, the safer they were—a win-win in their eyes.

"Let's get to business," Alex said, shifting the topic with a small smile. "The room up ahead is where Kingpin and Howard are meeting. They're in there right now, with four guards providing security. When we go in, Hit-Girl and I will handle Kingpin and the guards. Punisher, you focus on taking your revenge."

"Thank you," the Punisher said earnestly. It was clear that no amount of words could fully express his gratitude. All he could do was condense it into this single phrase, spoken with heartfelt sincerity.

"Don't get all formal with us," Alex replied with a grin.

"Yeah, don't be so sentimental!" Hit-Girl added, laughing boldly as she tossed aside her gun and drew the blade strapped to her leg. "Taking down bad guys has been my thing since I was a kid!"

Looking at Hit-Girl's mature demeanor and her overly self-assured tone, Alex couldn't help but silently grumble to himself: You're still a kid now!

After all, Hit-Girl was only eleven years old—a bona fide, adorable little girl.

"Alright, let's move in," the Punisher said, stepping toward the room Alex had pointed out earlier. Alex and Hit-Girl quickly followed. This time, the spotlight was on the Punisher.

---

Bang!

The rusty iron door let out a dull thud. After ensuring the area was secure, the trio stepped into the room, drawing the attention of everyone inside.

"Frank Castle? Is that you? Damn it, God above! You're still alive!"

Howard Saint's face turned pale as he recognized the man leading the group. His voice cracked with a mix of shock and terror.

Seeing the man who had killed his family standing before him, Howard's teeth clenched in hatred. Yet, fear flickered in his eyes. He was terrified of the Punisher.

No one in the room understood the Punisher's capabilities better than Howard Saint. A former Navy SEAL with expertise in sabotage, reconnaissance, and hand-to-hand combat, Castle was a walking arsenal. For two decades, he had honed his skills, using them all in a relentless quest for revenge. In many ways, Frank Castle was a one-man army.

"Howard Saint, your time is up!"

The Punisher's deep voice was filled with unrelenting hatred as he locked eyes with his nemesis. His burning gaze promised one thing: vengeance.

Just then, a towering figure rose from his seat, leaning on a cane. His massive frame was as imposing as a mountain, commanding attention.

"You're the one who killed my men?"

This was Wilson Fisk, better known as Kingpin—the ruler of 80% of America's underworld.

"I'm not impressed. How disappointing."

Without waiting for an answer, Kingpin turned to a bald man with a distinctive bullseye scar on his forehead. "I don't want to see him in the headlines again. Take care of him."

With that, Kingpin spared Howard a single glance before heading to the wall. Opening a hidden door, he disappeared into the shadows.

---

"Wait… wait! Take me with you!"

Realizing he was being abandoned, Howard scrambled to the wall, frantically trying to open the hidden door.

"Useless coward," Bullseye sneered, his eyes filled with contempt. The other three guards shared his disdainful look.

"You lack the intelligence to deal with the boss. You're as good as dead."

Despite Kingpin's escape, the Punisher remained unmoved. His sole focus was Howard Saint. To him, nothing else mattered—not even Kingpin. All that mattered was avenging his family.

Hit-Girl, weapon in hand, chose to stay out of the fray. She trusted Alex's superior strength and the Punisher's experience to handle things.

As for Alex, he deliberately allowed Kingpin to escape—not out of any moral restraint but because it wasn't the right time to eliminate him. Kingpin's empire was vast, controlling much of the country's criminal network. Killing him now would trigger chaos as his subordinates vied for power, dragging countless innocent people into the fray.

Alex had no qualms about killing those who deserved it, but he had no desire to see innocents caught in the crossfire. Until the right moment, Kingpin would live.