GENERAL POV
Murakami, one of the most secretive leaders of The Hand, stood silently within the dim-lit chamber of his penthouse. His sharp eyes were fixed on the screen in front of him, watching the live feed of an intruder breaking into one of their outposts miles away.
At first, he thought it would be handled swiftly. His loyal subordinate, Noba, was more than capable of dealing with uninvited guests. But just as he assumed the intruder would be eliminated, two more figures entered the scene—and the situation immediately began to spiral out of control.
Murakami's jaw tightened, his composed expression cracking into a scowl. "Damn it… if it weren't for the important transportation of Black Sky from Hell's Kitchen to the safer facility, we wouldn't be forced into this corner," he muttered, voice low and bitter.
His fingers curled against the armrest of his chair. "Especially with that new metahuman emerging—Aethereon. The bastard single-handedly stopped three of our sea-route transports… and now he's here."
As the situation worsened before his eyes, Murakami didn't hesitate. He reached for his communicator, contacting one of The Fingers—one of the true leaders of the Hand.
"The base in Hell's Kitchen has been infiltrated," he reported swiftly, keeping his tone professional despite the tension in his voice. "Among them is Daredevil, the vigilante who operates in that area. The second one is unknown. The third one…" He paused, swallowing a breath. "Aethereon."
For a brief moment, the other end of the line was silent. Then came a hiss of irritation.
At first, Alexandra was furious—contacting her directly for something so seemingly petty was out of protocol. Murakami was one of the more efficient Fingers; unlike the others, he preferred to operate from the shadows. But the instant she heard that name, her fury froze into disbelief.
The Hand wasn't just a minor organization—it was one of the largest and oldest underground networks in the world, their influence spread deep into every corner of Asia and beyond. Through SHIELD's scattered leaks, they already knew how powerful Aethereon was… and what he had done in Latveria.
They couldn't afford to face him directly. Not now.
"Abandon everything," Alexandra finally ordered, her voice steady but sharp. "Secure Black Sky. That's all that matters."
But before the order could even be relayed—a sound of air being slash came from the communicator, hearing this Alexendra frown.
Murakami's eyes widened in pure shock seeing the figure upfront.
A sudden blur cut through the air behind him, so fast it didn't even register before his head separated cleanly from his body. The screen flickered, the feed shaking as a faint white aura shimmered in the darkness, swirling around the figure now standing where Murakami once sat.
The mysterious intruder bent down, casually picking up the fallen communicator with one hand while the other still dripped faintly with energy. The white aura pulsed once, churning around both Murakami's severed head and body, disintegrating them slowly into dust.
"Hello, Alexandra," came a calm, cold voice from the line. "It seems the Five Fingers have just become four. I just thought you should update your records."
Alexandra's tone faltered for the first time. "W-who—?"
The reply came, simple and cutting.
"Aethereon."
Click.
The line went dead.
Alex lowered the communicator, his expression unreadable behind the soft glow of his visor. "Thanks, Cara," he said quietly. "You located the signal perfectly. How are things unfolding there?"
Cara's voice answered through the comm channel, her tone light but with a hint of exasperation. "Daredevil and Deadpool are… fighting each other. Apparently, Deadpool killed the guy with the katana. So… yeah."
Alex let out a sigh that turned into a dry chuckle. "Hmm… well, let's just go back."
The scene shifted back to where it was — but now, nine bodies lying on the floor had become ten.
Noba, the man who'd been fighting Daredevil, was pierced clean through the heart. Blood trickled down his chest, pooling beneath him as the air grew thick with the scent of iron.
Deadpool and Daredevil were locked in a furious exchange, their movements blurring in the rain-drenched chaos.
Deadpool caught Daredevil's incoming baton just inches from his forehead with his katana, sparks flashing at the clash. With his free hand, he threw a sharp left hook toward Daredevil's face.
But Daredevil had already sensed it — his head snapped backward, body twisting with feline precision as his leg lashed out. The kick struck Deadpool square in the stomach, the impact echoing through the room.
Deadpool flew back, crashing into two unlucky Hand ninjas who were just regaining consciousness atop a broken table. They went down together in a splintered heap before Deadpool could even register a counterattack.
Daredevil moved first.
A quick spin, a short kick to the ribs.
Deadpool blocked with his sword, the steel ringing loudly in the air. He laughed breathlessly.
"Ah! Called it!"
Daredevil pressed forward, twin batons flashing like dancing lightning. He struck low, then high — Deadpool parried the first, ducked the second, and countered with a playful jab toward Daredevil's chest.
The blow missed by an inch. Daredevil's body flowed like water — silent, sharp, unbroken. He swept Deadpool's legs, but Deadpool twisted mid-fall, landing on his hands before flipping backward with gymnastic ease.
"Bro, you move like Netflix money," Deadpool said, landing with a wet splash. "So smooth! What's your budget?"
"Stop talking," Daredevil snapped, lunging forward again.
He feinted left, then caught Deadpool's wrist, twisting sharply. The sword clattered away. Deadpool yelped.
"Ah! My sword wrist! That's my butter-spreading hand!"
Daredevil shoved him into the wall — the impact cracked the plaster, the shockwave rumbling through the structure as the two peak-human fighters collided.
Deadpool dropped his sword, grinning behind his mask.
"Ooooh, aggressive! I like it. You Catholic?"
Daredevil didn't answer. Instead, he drove a punch deep into Deadpool's gut, then followed up with another across his jaw.
Deadpool staggered, still chuckling through the pain.
"Okay—ow—yeah, you hit like guilt and childhood trauma combined," he muttered between breaths.
Daredevil flipped backward as Deadpool swung wildly with a knife he'd somehow produced out of nowhere. The blade cut through empty air where Matt's head had been a second ago.
Matt spun low, baton cracking across Deadpool's knee. Deadpool dropped for a second, then stabbed upward in one motion — his knife grazing Daredevil's thigh.
They broke apart, breathing hard. Water dripped from their suits, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade.
"Not bad," Deadpool said, rolling his shoulder. "For a blind guy."
Daredevil adjusted his stance, his face unreadable beneath the red cowl. "Not bad for a guy who won't shut up."
Deadpool tilted his head dramatically. "Ouch. Hurt my feelings. Wanna talk about it?"
Matt's response was another kick — higher, faster this time. Deadpool blocked with crossed swords, but the impact sent him skidding backward across the slick rooftop.
"Okay, okay, timeout!" Deadpool waved both hands wildly. "You win this round. Also, I may or may not have pulled something in my... everything."
Daredevil remained silent, the rhythm of Deadpool's heartbeat telling him all he needed to know — the man wasn't lying. Just... chaotic.
Deadpool groaned and slowly pushed himself upright. "So... I'm supposed to protect you. Can we call this my warm-up? Please? Before you decide to throw me off the building or something?"
Matt exhaled slowly, lowering his batons but not his guard. "You're insane. Why did you kill him?"
Before Deadpool could respond, a swirling portal tore open beside them.
Aethereon stepped out — his presence heavy, silent, radiating authority. Daredevil instinctively shifted his stance, his muscles coiled and ready as he turned toward the new arrival.
For a moment, all three stood still. One man listened to every heartbeat, every raindrop. Another simply stared with calm, unblinking eyes. The third — Deadpool — started humming the Mission: Impossible theme under his breath, for absolutely no reason.
"he killed him because there is no other way to stop them"Aethereon said while not even feeling to further explain.
Finally, Daredevil turned slightly away. "If you're here to protect me, stay out of my way."
Deadpool sheathed one sword, pointing the other at him like a conductor's baton.
"Oh, I'll stay out of your way all right. I'll just be behind you, slightly to the left, making fun of everything you do."
Aethereon's voice cut through the tension, calm but commanding.
"Well, the girl you're looking for isn't here. She left this place the moment you broke in. But don't wor—"
Before he could finish, Aethereon vanished — reappearing an instant later, carrying a limp figure over his shoulder. The woman struggled weakly, unable to break free from his grip.
He dropped her onto the floor. Her body hit the ground with a dull thud, breathing shallowly.
Deadpool tilted his head, striking a dramatic pose like Hisoka from Hunter x Hunter, voice dripping with mock sensuality.
"Mmmh... how rough."
"Elektra!" Matt barked, dropping his baton and rushing forward as she lay limp against his arms, weak and trembling in the aftermath of the scuffle.
Aethereon watched Daredevil's face, reading every microtwitch. When Matt looked up and asked, voice tight with concern, "What happened to her? Can you please tell me?"
Aethereon inwardly smirked behind his visor—heroes always fucking misunderstood these kinds of situations, and Daredevil asking so formally made him smile inside that faint glow.
"I just pressed her acupoint; that's why she's weak," Aethereon said, calm and clipped. "But if you're asking generally what happened—she was really dead, then revived by The Hand through an ancient ritual to make her the carrier for their Black Sky. They believe it to be a savior."
At the words Black Sky, Daredevil's eyes narrowed. He remembered—he and Stick had raided a Hand base eight months ago and found a boy the ninjas had called Black Sky. To foil their plan for further destruction, Stick had killed the boy.
So now they wanted Elektra to carry whatever the fuck this cult-like organization believed in. Matt's arms tightened around her; the gesture steadied her struggling form. Though she didn't fully know who he was or why he held her, she stopped fighting and stared at him with a curious, hollow focus.
"I'm sorry I wasn't with you when you were alone," Matt muttered under his breath, voice small in the room's emptiness. He glanced over at Deadpool, who was theatrically seizing weapons from the fallen enemies and rifling through other gear littering the room.
"There's a good price for these on the black market," Deadpool said, as if Matt's concern had been a question of ethics rather than care.
"Don't worry—he's Canadian," Aethereon added with a deadpan note.
Matt let out a short, almost helpless chuckle and nodded.
"Ouch," Deadpool dramatized, clutching both hands to his chest as if a dagger of betrayal had pierced him. "And what about you—are you going to scam me? 'Please don't redeem it,'" he teased, then sprinted away, voice trailing as he ran.
(AN:Alex is half indian so if you didn't understood the joke)
Aethereon felt a tiny tick of irritation at the corner of his forehead but followed Deadpool toward the stairwell. Before he left, he pressed the acupoint again—gentle, precise—making Elektra slip fully into unconsciousness. If she had woken and attacked Daredevil, she would have been beaten thoroughly; that outcome was the last thing Alex would allow.
After the skirmish, Daredevil carried Elektra away in his arms — probably to look for Stick. Aethereon had offered to help restore her memories, but Matt wasn't ready to trust him yet. The distrust was understandable; their alliance was still fragile, built on convenience, not faith.
Once Daredevil disappeared into the night, Aethereon and Deadpool made their way to one of Aethereon's hidden bases — a facility designed for training, research, and experimentation in the real world, and also a base for his team(current member-Deadpool).
As for system space, Aethereon couldn't just open it for others in this world. Unlike the Demon Slayer world, where the time period was simpler and the people far less advanced, this reality was modern — filled with technology, detection systems, and unpredictable individuals. Here, he had to be cautious. Only those he trusted completely would ever be allowed access to the system space — and even then, that number could be counted on one hand.
And some people were strictly banned from ever knowing.
Names like Reed Richards, Nick Fury, Tony Stark, and several others — people with a dangerous tendency to pry too deep, play god, or manipulate minds — were permanently on that blacklist. Aethereon referred to them, with a touch of sarcasm, as "untrustworthy geniuses."
The base itself was vast — the warehouse built for his company in paper only. The complex stretched across the size as big as 2 football grounds reinforced with layered titanium walls and high-density energy shielding.
Within it lay underground laboratories, armories, and large open fields for combat simulations. Explosions echoed during training drills, and testing chambers were scattered throughout the facility. To an outsider, it would look like something between a war camp and a high-tech fortress.
The barriers surrounding the base were the handiwork of Cara, Aethereon's ever-loyal AI companion who handled nearly all his defense protocols and system-linked architecture.
She had designed the entire fortress to be invisible to psychic intrusions, energy scans, and even dimensional tracking. To anyone attempting to spy or scry from afar — whether through magic or science — the base appeared as nothing more than empty static.
Cara's ingenuity didn't stop there. She had also created mini nanobots that safeguarded both Aethereon and Mr. Anish from telepathic interference or mental domination. These nanobots could counteract psychic manipulation, emit short-range sonar pulses, and detect fluctuations in neural activity — similar to how bats used sound to sense prey in complete darkness.
Alex often admitted it openly:
"If Cara wasn't with me, I wouldn't be this far in my journey."
That night, after everything that had happened, Aethereon and Deadpool were finally taking a breather. They crashed into the lounge, grabbed some snacks, and powered up the PlayStation.
"Men only need one adventure together to become friends," Deadpool joked, clicking through the game menu.
But before they could even select their Mortal Kombat characters, a harsh, metallic alarm shattered the calm — a deep, pulsing sound that echoed across the entire base.
Instantly, Aethereon's demeanor shifted. His relaxed posture straightened, and his aura flared like a living storm. The air grew heavier, darker, charged with raw intent. His eyes glowed faintly beneath his visor as waves of power rolled off him.
Even Deadpool, who had butchered armies without blinking, froze mid-step. He felt the air thicken, like gravity itself had doubled. His breathing hitched.
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit bar somewhere in New York...
An old man with neatly combed white hair and orange-tinted glasses sat alone at the counter, sipping his beer and glancing casually at the corner where the reader's view was. His lips twitched into a faint smirk.
"Well, someone just—"
"—fucked up," Deadpool finished from miles away, staring at the empty spot where Aethereon had been standing only seconds ago. The man had vanished completely, leaving behind only a faint shimmer in the air — the echo of a teleportation pulse.
Moments later, a holographic screen blinked to life in front of Deadpool. Cara's digital form appeared, her expression calm but sharp, eyes flicking through streams of data at light speed.
"Where is he?" she asked, her tone steady but urgent. "Mr. Anish is safe; there's no need to worry. The nanobots malfunctioned due to a sudden telepathic surge, but he managed to teleport safely back to Sy–" She stopped mid-sentence, correcting herself smoothly, "—to his home base."
Deadpool shrugged, mouth half-full of chips.
"Well, he just left. Didn't say a word. I was mid-sandwich too, y'know."
Cara sighed softly and shook her head. She already knew what had happened.
The telepathic interference wasn't random. It had been triggered by two powerful minds attacking simultaneously, unknowingly targeting the same person.
One was Killgrave, the manipulative psychopath whose mere words could twist the will of others. He had been attempting to control Mr. Anish — Aethereon's legal guardian in this world — to exploit him for money and solve his own failing financial problems.
The other was Charles Xavier, the world's most powerful telepath, who had been using Cerebro to satisfy a curiosity sparked by Jean Grey's vague remarks about a strange anomaly. Xavier's curiosity, once ignited, was never easily extinguished.
The nanobots could usually resist even high-level psychokinetic pulses, but Cerebro's amplified telepathic frequency was another matter entirely. Against that, the nanobots could only hold for a few seconds — barely enough to prevent complete mental intrusion.
Thankfully, that tiny window was all Alex and Mr. Anish needed. They triggered an emergency transfer, escaping safely into system space before their minds could be fully breached.
For Aethereon, however, the rule — he couldn't access the system space while under direct attack. The only exception was if the attack came stealthily.