As for what counted as Black Iron-level prey, the system's definition was brutally simple. If someone was guilty, they qualified. There were no gray areas, no moral debates—just a cold, mechanical judgment that reduced a person to a target.
A few men had passed by the alley not long ago, laughing loudly as they moved through the rain-soaked street. The moment they entered his range, the system had reacted, tagging each of them as Black Iron-level prey. Their tattoos, their swagger, the bulges at their waists—everything about them screamed gang affiliation.
And yet, Rex hadn't even dared to lift his head.
The fear drilled into him from years of living under authority still lingered, and here, in this broken body with cracked ribs and an empty stomach, it was amplified. These weren't people he could afford to provoke, not in his current state. If anything, he was more likely to end up as their victim than the other way around.
Killing prey sounded good in theory, but right now, it felt like a distant fantasy. With no money, no strength, and injuries that made even breathing painful, survival itself was already pushing his limits.
He let out a slow breath, wincing slightly as his chest tightened. "Would I really be the first guy with a system to starve to death on the streets?" he muttered bitterly, shaking his head. The thought was absurd, almost laughable, but it didn't feel impossible.
As if responding to his mood, the sky darkened.
Moments ago, it had been clear, but now heavy clouds rolled in without warning. The first drops of rain fell, cold and sharp, striking his face and soaking into his clothes within seconds.
His situation, somehow, got even worse.
Suppressing a groan, Rex forced himself to move. He dug through the trash nearby, ignoring the stench as he pulled out a few discarded wooden boards. With slow, careful movements, he propped them up against the wall, creating a crude shelter that barely kept the rain off him.
Night fell quickly.
The rain intensified, drumming against the ground in a relentless rhythm while thunder cracked overhead, echoing through the empty streets. One by one, the nearby shops closed, their lights flickering off until only darkness remained.
The city, usually loud and chaotic, seemed to shrink into silence.
Rex sat in the corner of the alley, his back against the wall, his hand gripping a large iron nail he had found earlier. He dragged it against the ground again and again, grinding its tip into a crude point.
Each scrape echoed faintly in the confined space, blending with the rain.
This was all he had.
A piece of scrap metal, sharpened into something barely resembling a weapon.
He stared at it for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. If the system was real, if everything it promised was true, then even something like this could become… more.
But that depended on whether he survived long enough to use it.
"Tuk. Tuk. Tuk."
The sound cut through the rain.
High heels, striking the pavement in quick, uneven beats. The rhythm was frantic, unsteady, filled with panic.
Rex's head lifted slightly.
Then came a scream.
Sharp. Brief. Cut off too quickly.
A struggle followed, muffled and chaotic, accompanied by a man's rough voice.
"Get inside!"
Rex's body tensed.
From the entrance of the alley, he saw them—just silhouettes at first, barely visible in the dim light. A tall man had a woman pinned against him, one hand clamped over her mouth as he dragged her deeper into the darkness.
The alley swallowed them whole.
Only the faint glow from a distant streetlamp reached this far, casting weak shadows that shifted with every movement.
Rex stayed still, his body pressed against the side of a dumpster.
Hidden.
Watching.
The system reacted immediately.
Black Iron-level prey.
The label appeared without hesitation, confirming what his instincts already told him.
The man moved with confidence, his actions practiced and efficient. He shoved the woman against the wall, his grip tightening around her throat as he leaned in close.
"Make a sound, and you're dead," he hissed.
Rainwater dripped from his clothes, his voice low and dangerous.
"Give me everything."
Lightning split the sky.
For a brief moment, the entire alley was illuminated in stark white. In that instant, Rex saw her clearly—a blonde woman, drenched, her clothes clinging tightly to her body. Her face was pale, streaked with rain and tears, her eyes wide with terror.
She tried to speak, but his hand silenced her.
The man's other hand moved quickly, searching her pockets. He found her wallet, pulled out a handful of cash, and tossed it aside carelessly.
Rex's grip tightened around the nail.
His breathing slowed.
His entire body shifted, adjusting slightly, positioning himself.
He wasn't strong enough for a direct fight.
Not like this.
But if he could land a clean strike…
The man wasn't done.
Even after taking the money, he didn't step away. His hand moved again, this time slower, more deliberate, sliding across her body with sick intent.
The woman struggled harder, her movements desperate.
The man's breathing grew heavier.
Rex's eyes sharpened.
His muscles coiled.
Just a little closer.
Just one opening—
"Stop!"
The shout came from above.
It shattered the moment.
Rex flinched, his balance breaking as he nearly slipped on the wet ground.
A figure dropped from the rooftops, landing between them with precision. A red suit, horned mask, and an unmistakable presence.
Daredevil.
The tall man barely had time to react before a kick sent him crashing to the ground. He groaned, instinctively reaching for his waist, but Daredevil was already there.
One punch.
Clean.
Precise.
The man went limp.
A revolver slipped from his hand, clattering against the ground.
The woman stumbled back, her voice finally breaking free as a scream tore through her throat. She didn't even look at her rescuer, too overwhelmed by fear to process what had just happened.
She ran.
Disappearing into the rain without a second glance.
Silence returned.
Only Rex and Daredevil remained.
Slowly, Daredevil turned his head.
Toward him.
Rex's heart skipped a beat.
He knew Daredevil was blind, but that didn't make it any less unnerving. The way his head tilted, the way his body faced him—it felt like he was being stared straight through.
Without a word, Rex shifted the nail behind his back, his expression tightening slightly.
Did he notice?
Did he hear anything?
Daredevil opened his mouth, as if about to speak.
Then he stopped.
His head turned slightly, listening.
A moment later, his expression changed.
Without explanation, he pulled out his twin batons, flicking them upward. The cables shot out, catching onto something above, and in the next instant, he was gone—launching himself into the night like a shadow.
Rex blinked.
Then, suddenly, he snapped out of it.
He rushed out of the alley, looking up just in time to see Daredevil moving across the rooftops.
"Hey!" he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Can you lend me some money?"
No response.
The figure didn't slow down.
If anything, he seemed to move faster.
Rex lowered his hands slowly.
"…Figures."
A flash of lightning lit up the sky.
Instinctively, he turned back toward the alley.
The man was still there.
Unconscious.
Waiting.
Rainwater pooled around his body, slowly washing away the dirt and grime.
Rex stood there, unmoving.
Then he wiped the rain from his face and stepped forward.
He spread his arms slightly, looking up at the sky, his voice low but clear.
"God… if you're out there, stop me."
The rain grew heavier.
Thunder roared.
No answer came.
Rex lowered his head.
"Fine," he whispered. "Then don't."
He picked up the nail.
Step by step, he approached the man.
His grip tightened.
His breathing steadied.
He raised his hand—
Then paused.
Driving the nail into the man's throat would kill him, eventually. But not instantly. There would be noise. Struggle. Blood everywhere.
Too messy.
Too risky.
His eyes shifted, scanning the surroundings.
Then he saw it.
Further down the alley, partially hidden by shadows, a manhole cover.
An idea formed instantly.
With effort, he dragged the unconscious man across the wet ground. The weight was more than he expected, each step sending jolts of pain through his chest. His stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten in over a day.
Still, he didn't stop.
Reaching the manhole, he pried it open.
Lightning flashed again, illuminating the narrow shaft below. Water rushed through it, swirling violently into darkness.
Deep.
Fast.
Unforgiving.
If someone fell in headfirst, there was no coming back.
Rex stared at it for a moment.
Then he smiled faintly.
"Guess you're done."
He tightened his grip on the man and pushed.
The body tipped forward.
Fell.
"Plop."
Water splashed upward, striking his face.
For a brief second, there was movement below.
Then nothing.
Rex blinked.
The world felt strangely quiet.
Was this real?
Was he dreaming?
Another crash of thunder snapped him back.
Pain throbbed in his ribs.
Hunger gnawed at his stomach.
No.
This was real.
He closed the manhole cover.
Carefully.
Methodically.
Then he returned to his shelter, dismantling it piece by piece and tossing the boards back into the trash. Every trace of his presence disappeared, washed away by the rain.
When he finally stepped out of the alley, he wasn't empty-handed.
More than three hundred dollars.
And a revolver.
He had taken them both.
After a few steps, the system chimed again.
[Mission updated. Available for review.]
Rex didn't look back.
Daredevil had played his part.
So had fate.
There was no reason to hesitate now.