Choice Made
Read 20 chapters ahead on P@treon.
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'The hermit life doesn't suit me, so pass on that.' John was still in the prime of his youth.
What was the point of living in Marvel if all he saw was four walls? Above all, he understood that he wouldn't be completely safe even that way.
The better way was to continue as he was, make friends and get allies while building power. Of course, he had to be extremely careful, but that was only natural.
If he wanted to enjoy his life here, he had to accept the danger that came with it. That was the trade-off.
John stared at the 305 EP sitting in the balance. With that amount, he couldn't get anything powerful just yet. But he could at least get something that could help him at the moment.
With that thought, he opened the system shop. His eyes were on the Base Sharingan, which cost 12,000 EP.
The visual acuity he'd get and the ability to copy, with the Hanma physique, almost gave him shivers. The first problem was that he wasn't sure how the chakra and Uchiha jargon would be resolved. Because he could see the Uchiha bloodline for sale as well.
Maybe the system would solve the issue for him? Or he would be forced to buy the Uchiha bloodline to make Sharingan work?
He wasn't sure, and he got no answers from the system in question either. In the end, he had to put a pin in that topic.
Now, he dropped down to the common section. His eyes hovered over the martial arts skills. He had the Hanma physique, unawakened, but he had no combat experience. It was like a Bugatti without a steering wheel.
All that power and speed but no ability to control the direction, that was a waste.
The elbow to Flash was pure instinct, and he wasn't planning on relying on that anymore. Any combatant worth their salt in Marvel would dodge that. He needed something that could help him direct his power into actual damage even if he faced a trained professional.
Kyokushin Karate: this one was a simpler martial art, and full contact with powerful punches and kicks, and well-suited for his body. John felt like it wouldn't take too long for him to get used to this. It went into the worth considering category.
Capoeira, on the other hand, sounded difficult. Getting used to the rhythm and flow, it was more useful for someone acrobatic, like Gwen.
Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, he had no plans on skipping on ground like a slug when three enemies could poke him full of bullet holes from 10 meters away. Pass.
CQC, the moment John saw this one, he paused for a second. This was a system. It took advantage of Karate, Judo, Boxing, Muay Thai, and even Penak Silat for knife handling, but that bumped the difficulty curve a bit.
Still, if he had time, he could digest this fast; at least that's what he felt like. This was a system that didn't commit to any one martial arts directly, trimming a lot of fat in the process.
Not to mention that he could keep learning new martial arts, integrating them into the system without any stutters or incompatibility issues.
But it cost 150 EP. Considering how much it gave, it looked fair.
'If it doesn't pan out, I will still have enough for Kyokushin karate.' John walked to the bathroom and entered one of the stalls in the far corner.
Who could tell if he wouldn't start spasming as he did with Hanma's physique? Since CQC was a big combat system, he didn't want to take the chance.
He sat on the closed toilet seat, the scent of the lemon-like freshener making him a little queasy. Even then, he bit down on a textbook from his bag and purchased CQC.
The swarm of white fireflies, as large as a hive of bees, rushed into him. The burning hotness spread through his body; it felt like a dozen meat tenderizers struck all over him and racked over his bones.
The pain wasn't anything compared to what happened during the physique integration. But it wasn't easy either. Still, John kept his back straight even as sweat poured down his face, dripping on the white tiles, clenching his hands tight till his knuckles turned white.
He couldn't say anything about power, but his body had surely grown more used to pain and being uncomfortable.
John had kept his eyes closed, seeing each move of the system in his mind. The punches, kicks, disarms, elbows, and throws. With each strike he witnessed, the red circle below started to grow.
The conditioning continued for a full twenty minutes. And when he opened his eyes, John could see a circle, with a diameter of 4 meters, forming around him. It looked like a shooting target board.
This was his range; with CQC getting less effective the further it went, he understood that internally.
'With this, I feel like I can get that annoying mosquito at last.' John's eyes shone with a new fire as he wiped the sweat off his brow
That's when someone knocked on the door.
"Wait a bit, man. I am almost done." John answered, putting his book back into the bag, but the moment someone kicked the door.
"God damn, you want to wipe my ass for me or what?" The swinging door almost struck him, but he had moved away just in time with a growl.
However, what welcomed him beyond the door wasn't some poor guy almost shitting himself; it was the muzzle of an M16.
"Out, now." The guy spoke with a grainy southwest accent.
He was in full protective gear, helmet, vest, and the works. And this guy wasn't alone. As John stepped out with his hands raised, he saw the guy's partner covering the washroom's door.
'This is tricky.' John felt his finger twitch, his heart beating against his ribs. He could feel a heat ray extending from the muzzle, landing on the left side of his chest.
These guys had all blacked-out gear, no patches, no indications. Most likely terrorists since they were too well equipped to be mere robbers. Considering this was New York in Marvel, this was practically routine work.
'If I follow them, I can get a better idea of how many there are and wait for the superhero of the day.' John relaxed, at least he tried to.
The guy pointing the gun at him turned his head to speak with his partner, chuckling at some internal joke. He said something in a foreign language; John could smell it.
'He's not taking me seriously.' The moment he saw the guy's finger on the trigger relax, he lunged.
His fingers wrapped around the cold barrel, pushing it away from himself.
The man looked back in shock at the sudden tug. His finger tried to reach the trigger. But a blurry fist was already in front of his face, his only exposed part. The knuckles buried into his face with a twisted crunch.
His face caved as blood splattered. The man's nose flattened under the fist as he went limp. The sound of the punch was like a strike of a hammer.
The second guy turned around after hearing that sound, his gun swinging alongside his sight. But the only thing in his view was the flying body of his comrade.
A grown man in full gear crashed onto him. He cursed as his body slammed against the washroom wall. The broken tiles crumbled behind him. Only then did he notice another body that followed under the shadow of the first.
Just that this one was upright, a young boy that his partner was joking about being scared shitless. As soon as his gun clattered on the floor, he tried to reach for the pistol. But his wrist was pinned against the wall. Then a straight right dug straight into his armpit, a place unprotected by the vest.
"GAH!" The man felt the wind knocked out of him as his shoulder cracked, leaving him gritting his teeth. But before he could even regain his sense of stability, another fist connected squarely on his face. His head bounced off the wall as the world went dark.
John stood over the two unconscious and bleeding terrorists at his feet. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, but his breathing was deep and controlled.
His knuckles had turned red, and they burned hot, but there was no pain. Just a sense of victory taking over his heart.
'Shit, shit, shit, I wasn't supposed to fight here!' John almost screamed. He wasn't sure what came over him.
How could he lunge at a guy with a damned gun when there was another behind him?! Where did the confidence and courage come from?
'Wait, is it the body?' His mind directly went to his thumping heart, the Hanma physique; that had to be it. 'Oh my gahh!'
"Yakub? Hey Yakub, what you doing, bud?" Another voice closed in with the heavy boots, headed towards the washroom, calling out to the people that he had knocked out. "Jacob? Oi, answer me you cunts!"