The neon glow of Washington's First Avenue cut into the darkening sky. Red and blue police lights flashed like lightning, sirens wailed, and the calm of night shattered.
A high schooler with a white backpack slowed to a stop. Ryan lifted his gaze, watching three police cars scream down the road. From the far end of the bustling street, the faint crack of gunfire reached his ears.
Well, wasn't that just perfect.
Beautiful America. A gunfight every day.
Unlike the panicked civilians scattering away from the gunshots, Ryan's young but handsome face showed not a hint of fear. His dark eyes glimmered with a cold, predatory shine, the kind you'd see in a hunter that had already chosen its prey.
Guess I'll be late getting home tonight.
Adjusting the strap of his bag, Ryan turned and slipped into the shadows of a nearby alley.
Inside a central gold store in Washington, chaos reigned.
The glitter of chandeliers had been replaced by shattered glass and scattered jewelry across the marble floor. Security guards lay dead in pools of blood, their bodies thrown across the carnage. Outside, three police cruisers skidded to a stop, sirens still blaring.
Before the cops could even get out, a hail of bullets shredded the cars at the entrance. Sirens choked mid-wail, falling silent.
In the grand hall of the gold shop, a black masked robber clamped one arm around the throat of a trembling receptionist, his other hand gripping a Browning pistol.
The young woman gasped desperately, her blouse straining to contain her chest, stockings torn to reveal pale skin beneath her skirt. No one in the room had time to notice her disheveled beauty.
"Listen up, cops outside! You get us a getaway car, or we blow her brains out!"
His partner, a masked white man, raked handfuls of gold and silver into a duffel bag. Clutching an AK, he ducked behind the counter, spraying suppressive fire at the police.
The Black robber pressed his gun barrel to the hostage's forehead.
"Don't shoot! They've got a hostage!"
The officer in charge, crouched behind a squad car, waved his men down. But his eyes widened almost immediately. "Wait… what the hell is that?"
Inside the store, both robbers and the hostage froze.
Because someone was standing in the corner that had been empty a second ago.
A boy. A masked boy.
His hair shimmered silver-white, like it had been kissed by frost. A bone-white, skull-like Hollow Mask covered his face. Draped over his frame was a long, collarless coat as dark as the night sky, stretched over a body carved with sharp lines of muscle. In his right hand gleamed the blade of a drawn uchigatana.
He didn't move. Didn't breathe.
It was like he wasn't human at all.
"Where the hell did you come from?"
The two robbers shot each other a look. Neither had noticed him enter. It was as if he'd just materialized out of thin air.
The Hollow Masked boy said nothing. He took a step forward, blade in hand.
"Screw it, man! Kill him!"
The white robber raised his smoking AK, eyes wild. Fear had driven him mad.
And then—
In the blink of an eye, the masked boy, who'd seemed to be walking calmly across the floor, was suddenly right in front of him.
A clean slash. Blood sprayed.
The Black robber barely had time to blink before he saw his partner screaming, clutching a severed arm. The AK clattered to the ground in two useless pieces beside the severed limb, blood splattering across the floor.
It had all happened too fast. The white robber hadn't even managed to squeeze the trigger.
"Stay back!"
Terrified, the Black robber whipped his pistol away from the hostage and toward the boy.
Too slow.
A flash of silver, cold as ice—then his skull was pierced straight through the forehead.
The hostage stood frozen, staring blankly as the robber dropped lifelessly to the floor.
[Successfully detained a sinful soul. Evil Index +3!]
The message chimed in Ryan's mind. He ignored it.
One robber disarmed. The other, executed.
The Hollow Masked boy didn't flinch. No emotion crossed his pale mask as his eyes shifted toward the whimpering white robber writhing on the ground, clutching his bloody stump.
"Don't kill me! Please, I'm begging you!" Tears streamed down his face, a dark wet stain spreading across his jeans.
Ryan raised his blade again. The pristine steel hadn't even been stained with blood. He loomed like Death itself, scythe poised.
"Stop!"
A woman's voice rang out across the night, distant yet clear, commanding yet warm.
Ryan didn't stop. His blade fell. The robber's head rolled free.
[Successfully detained a sinful soul. Evil Index +4!]
Another chime echoed in his head.
Ryan looked up.
And from the sky, she descended.
The floor cracked beneath her as she landed at the store's entrance, a figure of divine beauty and authority.
Dark hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders. A gleaming tiara with a star-shaped crest shone on her forehead. Her face was perfection—every line sculpted like a gift from God.
A crimson-and-gold bustier clung to her body like a second skin, baring flawless arms and collarbone. A short navy skirt brushed against long legs that led into golden boots. A holy aura radiated off her even in the dim, bloodstained shop.
Wonder Woman.
The legendary superhero whispered about for decades.
Her dark brows furrowed as she fixed her sharp gaze on the boy in the mask. "Why? He was already helpless. You could have handed him to the police. To the courts. Why did you have to kill him?"
Ryan met her eyes. Her presence glowed like sunlight, but his voice was flat, stripped of all emotion.
"Forgiveness is God's job. Mine is sending them to meet Him."
Her jaw tightened. "Come with me. I can't let you keep doing this."
She raised a hand, golden light rippling in the air as her Lasso of Truth began to take form.
But Ryan moved first. Faster than lightning, he scooped the stunned hostage into his arms and hurled her screaming through the air—straight at Wonder Woman.
Forced to catch the woman, Wonder Woman lashed out her lasso and secured her midair. In the half-second it took, the Hollow Masked boy vanished.
"Next time," she muttered, brows knitted as she drew back her lasso, "I'll make sure to set him straight."
Her every movement glowed with divinity as she turned back toward the night.
In a quiet residential district near Washington's third ring road, the masked boy landed lightly on a balcony railing.
He lifted a hand to his Hollow Mask. It dissolved into mist, revealing a strikingly youthful face, deceptively gentle. His silver hair darkened back to black. The uchigatana disappeared as though it had sunk into his very soul.
"Not a bad haul tonight."
Ryan muttered under his breath, sliding open the balcony door. Inside, he tapped open the interface only he could see—the Shinigami System.
[ Shinigami System 2.0: Updated and optimized for transmigrators into the DC universe! ]
[ Name: Ryan ]
[ Age: 17 (Reserve Shinigami lifespan: 300 years) ]
[ Rank: Reserve Shinigami (Next stage: Intern Shinigami) ]
[ Location: DC Main Universe (Second World: Marvel Avengers Universe, locked) ]
[ Zanpakutō: Standard uchigatana (Next stage: Shikai. Evil Index: 101/100. System loading…) ]
[ Hollow Mask: Initial awakening stage. Masks all physical and spiritual traits, conceals identity, suppresses emotions and life force. ]
(Note 1: As a transmigrator who has died once, you have broken the cycle of causality and awakened a Hollow Mask.)
(Note 2: The Hollow Mask reflects the contrast between your inner emotions and outward persona. The greater the difference, the stronger its boost.)
[ Soul Society: Locked. Requires promotion to Low-Rank Shinigami. ]
"Almost at Shikai," Ryan whispered, heart tightening. "What kind of Zanpakutō will I get?"
The thought sent a rush of excitement and dread through him. In this dangerous world of superheroes and villains, the nature of his Zanpakutō would decide everything.
His musing was cut short by the sound of familiar heels clicking down the hall outside.
Ryan hurried into his room, dropped his backpack, swapped his shoes for a pair of slippers, and stepped into the kitchen.
Moments later, the door opened. A tall, elegant woman entered, the very image of a refined city professional.
"Miss Diana, you're back?"