Chapter 34: Daredevil's Interception
For several months, Hell's Kitchen had been changing under the constant visits of Uchiha Akira. The crime rate continued to decline. At first, everyone thought it was just another gang war. After all, this was Hell's Kitchen—gangs fighting each other was nothing unusual.
But as time passed, the situation became increasingly abnormal. Any gang or drug dealer with a name was wiped out, root and branch, with no survivors.
Drugs had always been the main source of income for the gangs of Hell's Kitchen. As for traditional loan-sharking, there was barely a market here—most people were already dirt poor and had no means of repayment. Only a fool would try to run loan-sharking in this place.
What could a gang get from lending to such people? At most, a few corpses. In the cursed soil of Hell's Kitchen, life was the cheapest currency.
Inside a certain skyscraper in Manhattan, New York. On a leather sofa sat a hulking figure, muscles bulging explosively against a gray leisure suit that seemed ready to tear apart at the seams.
Only the truly strong understood the frustrations that came with such a body.
"Bullseye, why has our share in Hell's Kitchen dropped so much lately? I want an explanation." The massive, bald man was none other than Wilson Fisk—the Kingpin of New York's underworld.
Bullseye could barely be called his subordinate; their relationship leaned more toward cooperation.
"Someone's been hunting down Hell's Kitchen's gangsters in the shadows. Whoever it is, they're decisive, never leaving survivors, and they've left no trace. Totally different from so-called 'superheroes' like Daredevil."
"I don't care about the details. Tell me how long before things go back to normal."
Kingpin had no interest in accidents happening in Hell's Kitchen. Not even his old adversary Daredevil was worth his concern.
"One week. I need one week to investigate, then I can take care of it." Bullseye wasn't much concerned about Hell's Kitchen either, but since it now affected his interests, he had no choice but to take it seriously.
"Good. Next time we meet, I expect this problem to be gone." With that, Kingpin dismissed him. Their partnership was straightforward—Bullseye handled Kingpin's troublesome problems. After all, when did you ever see a crime boss handle things on the front lines himself?
Well, there was one. Poor Uchiha Akira had no choice but to be on the front lines constantly, leading Uchiha Tekka in the ongoing purge.
The power of the Soul Furnace could only be activated when Akira himself was present. Still in his growth stage, he couldn't afford to miss any chance for strengthening.
Fortunately, in the bizarre land of Hell's Kitchen, no one seemed to care about the bodies piling up. Not even S.H.I.E.L.D. intervened, something Akira had worried about.
Clearly, the people of Hell's Kitchen hardly counted as "people" anymore. Even an organization claiming to safeguard the world couldn't be bothered with such a place.
System:Soul Furnace (1000/1000) Lv1. Gains vary depending on soul strength. Provides minor buffs to allies. Trait: Ascension Step in effect…
Through long observation, Akira had discovered that for ordinary souls, the Soul Furnace's measure was basically "1 unit." Weaker souls didn't even amount to that, while occasionally, stronger souls could reach "2 units."
That was nearly the limit of mortals—these were usually ruthless gang leaders, their hands stained with blood. Akira suspected that soul strength was linked to willpower and other such factors. Still, it was only his theory.
In half a year, he hadn't run into any superheroes—not that it was strange. Iron Man hadn't even appeared yet; the curtain of the Marvel world hadn't fully risen.
And truthfully, Akira had no desire to tangle with "superheroes" yet. Some of them were more trouble than they were worth.
Just as Akira and Tekka were preparing to head back, they were stopped by a man clad in a crimson bodysuit, only his eyes and chin exposed, devil horns protruding from his cowl.
Akira recognized Daredevil instantly. Hard not to—most heroes in this world were tight-suit eccentrics, and Matt Murdock's flashy red outfit was unforgettable.
"Finally caught you. Do you know what you're doing is a crime? Looks like all the recent killings in Hell's Kitchen were your doing. Surrender now!"
Tekka, who'd been sailing smoothly until now, gave his clan leader a questioning look—what do we do about this lunatic?
Truth be told, Akira least wanted to meet the likes of Matt Murdock. Sure, Murdock was a do-gooder, a lawyer who defended the poor in court.
But on the other hand, people like him were impossibly stubborn. Akira had only been killing the worst of the worst—drug lords, gang leaders, murderers—but try explaining that to a justice-obsessed fool.
"I've only killed drug dealers, gang bosses, criminals with innocent blood on their hands. I don't see that as a crime. I call it carrying out Heaven's will."
He thought to himself: Sinners all the same. Might as well let me reap them.
"So, the great Daredevil—are you really here to defend these vermin from me?"
"They may be criminals, but you are not the law. You have no right to decide who lives and who dies. Their crimes are for the courts to judge. What you're doing is murder."
Matt Murdock's words rang firm. To him, the dignity of the law was inviolable.
Akira suddenly found this amusing. Well, the night was long; he could waste a little time seeing whether Murdock's brain was made of stone.
"The dignity of the law? I recall that during America's War of Independence, people often cited natural rights. First: that men are born and remain free and equal in rights. Social distinctions may only be based on the common good. Correct? That was your people's own declaration of rights."
"…And what exactly are you trying to say?" For once, Daredevil was caught off guard. This was the first opponent to argue about human rights in the middle of a fight.
"Article Two of the Declaration of the Rights of Man: the aim of all political association is the preservation of the natural and inalienable rights of man—liberty, property, security, and resistance to oppression. Do you remember?"
As a lawyer, Matt remembered it well.
"Yes. And what does that have to do with your butchery? Are you just trying to twist words and excuse yourself?"
"I see no liberty, no property, no safety for the ordinary people of Hell's Kitchen. They can't even resist the gangs. The New York government and police turn a blind eye. The people live in misery. Is that the heaven-given human right you speak of?"
Akira's words struck like a hammer against Matt's heart. Yet, years of American ideals couldn't be shaken so easily.
"That still doesn't justify murder. Life is fragile. You have no right to strip it away. You could hand them over to the NYPD—"
"And then the gang bosses send lackeys as scapegoats? Or walk free for lack of evidence? Then return to their trade, killing innocent passersby in the process?"
Akira had no patience for Murdock's idealistic hero complex.
Besides, he wanted these villains' souls. There was no way he was letting them go.