But the character in the game was pressing five keys a second, darting across the screen, dodging attacks, and pulling off crazy skill combos.
"Sir, this is what you meant by 'making friends with him by force'?" Skye asked, raising an eyebrow. She was beginning to question if joining S.H.I.E.L.D. was really the smartest move after all...
Who on Earth cheats at games just to make friends?
"I should remind you, sir, this game has an anti-cheating system," she added. "If you get flagged, your account could be banned—and so could the guy playing with you."
She scrolled through the match history, her eyes scanning the ridiculous win streak Coulson had built over the past few pages.
But Coulson clearly wasn't listening.
"Batman Number One, I've got your back!"
"Batman! Time to go viral!"
"Come take blue buff!"
"That guy's low—go for the kill, I'll block for you!"
Before long, the word Victory lit up the screen.
Right alongside it came the opponent's furious message: "This support is broken! Report him!"
...…
Over the past three days, Luke and Coulson had been climbing the ranks like maniacs.
Meanwhile, the Disaster Control Bureau—established after the first Battle of New York—had finally wrapped up the initial cleanup.
Most of the evacuated residents had returned to their homes.
Maybe it was the New Yorker spirit, but even with rubble just blocks away, people were going back to their routines.
Work, coffee breaks, and business as usual. But in other places…
The aftermath of the battle was still causing trouble.
The first to take the hit?
The New York City government.
The sheer scale of the destruction had economists reeling.
It was a disaster—someone had to be held responsible.
In the end, all fingers pointed at S.H.I.E.L.D.
After all, their job was to prevent exactly this kind of catastrophe.
...…
"Sir, the Council slashed the Project Insight budget again," Hill reported. "They're blaming us for the whole mess."
"Ground HQ says the three Helicarriers in production might be delayed again."
Inside one of the few functioning Helicarriers, Nick Fury stood with his arms crossed, his face looking like a thundercloud.
S.H.I.E.L.D. had been catching heat from all sides. Cleaning up after the war was bad enough, but now they had to deal with literal demons showing up mid-battle? And sorcerers? That was pushing it.
"What about the sorcerer—Daniel, was it? Found anything?"
"No, sir. We scanned the entire database and cross-checked every face. No matches."
Fury's scowl deepened. Just what he needed—more mysteries.
But there was still hope.
"Coulson. Any progress on his side?"
There was a flicker of something close to hope in Fury's voice.
Coulson had always been the sharpest agent he had. If anyone could pull something off, it was him.
Agent Hill tapped on her transparent tablet, then paused with a frown.
"He did send a report, sir... but..."
"But what? Spit it out."
"Coulson says... he spent three days helping his target rank up. They're both in Glory tier now."
"..."
"WHAT!?"
...
"I'm telling you, Coulson," Luke said, stretching his arms after a solid win.
"At this rate, we'll hit King rank in two days."
They'd been gaming together for hours, and during that time, Luke and Coulson had gotten to know each other better. Coulson had shown nothing but sincerity, and surprisingly, Luke didn't mind him at all.
After all, SHIELD or not—even if it turned out to be a secret Hydra operation—Luke didn't care. As long as Coulson helped him rack up points in-game, he was a good teammate in Luke's book.
"Luke, are you sure you don't want to consider joining SHIELD?"
"Snake Shield?"
"It's S.H.I.E.L.D.," Coulson corrected, half amused. "Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division—"
"Alright, alright, stop! We're in the middle of a match, can we not bring up recruitment while I'm trying to dodge a Widowmaker ult?"
Coulson looked down at his phone and sighed. Another message popped up on the screen.
Typical. Every time he brought up SHIELD, Luke brushed it off like it was background noise—never outright refusing, just brushing it aside with his usual laid-back sarcasm.
And honestly? Coulson didn't really mind playing games with him. It was fun. But he knew it couldn't last forever. SHIELD wasn't exactly paying him to grind ranks in MOBAs.
Didi didi~
His phone vibrated again. He didn't even have to look to know it was Nick Fury.
Coulson could already hear it: "We're not paying you to babysit some kid with demonic powers. Get him on our side. That's your job." Blah blah blah.
He exhaled sharply and glanced at the vibrating phone, then at the match screen now in champion selection.
He hesitated… then rejected the call without even blinking.
"Higher points, higher rank... let's go," he mumbled.
...…
Outside Luke's apartment, late at night, a different kind of game was unfolding.
The streetlights flickered faintly.
Then, without warning, a dog started barking wildly in one direction.
The next second—a shadow shot through the air.
A spear of pure darkness.
The dog went silent.
And slowly, the shadows near the base of the lamppost began to ripple, twisting and thickening... until they solidified.
A humanoid figure stepped out from the darkness, dual swords glinting dimly in the moonlight.
A shadow soldier had arrived.
Silently, it crept through the gate and made its way into Luke's home.
"Cut the ad! Cut the ad! Stay on position, don't get caught by Wonder Woman's lasso again!"
Inside, Luke was fired up. Whatever match he was playing, it was getting intense.
The shadow soldier moved like a ghost—no breathing, no footsteps. It drew its blade, positioning itself behind Luke.
Still gaming.
The soldier struck—blade aimed straight for Luke's back.
At that exact moment—
"Victory!" the game announced.
Luke's eyes turned icy cold.
BOOM!
A monstrous black hand burst forth from the ground, grabbing the shadow assassin mid-strike.
In the same breath, the shadows around the room warped and twisted, forming into a towering creature.
A monstrous human body with a feral dog's head made up of shadows, its red beast-like eyes glowing ominously in the dark.
"Eat it."
Luke's voice was calm, dangerous.
The monstrous guardian obeyed, swallowing the shadow soldier whole. With a crunch, it was gone—and the monster grew slightly in size.
Luke stood, eyes narrowed as he looked toward the window.
Whoever attacked him… was using the same kind of power he had.
Demonic shadows.
His hand glowed faintly with pulse of demonic shadow energy.
"Someone's picking a fight... with the wrong goddamn exorcist."
I don't need to guess too hard...
This energy clearly came from someone trying to copy Shadow Demon Shaco's power.
But it's a mess—muddy, unstable, and all over the place.
Compared to the shadow energy flowing in Luke's body, it was like comparing sand to solid gold.
If Luke's demonic shadow power was 24-karat gold,
Then what his attacker used? That was a handful of dirt with a few flecks of glitter.
"So cheap..."
Luke scoffed.
"Giving out scraps of shadow energy and expecting someone to die for it?"
With a grin, Luke slowly melted into a swirling ring of darkness.
...Outside the neighborhood…
Three cloaked figures stood under the cover of night, staring at the spot where their ally used to be.
The shadow soldier was gone—destroyed. And that wasn't just bad luck.
Each of them could only summon one shadow warrior.
They were soul-bound. If the soldier died... so did the connection.
One of them gasped, "That's impossible!"
"The warriors of the Shadow God never fail!"
They backed away in disbelief, as the weight of what had happened started to hit them.
Shadow soldiers were supposed to be unstoppable.
They never missed their mark.
They weren't supposed to lose.
But this time?
They did.
"No! We have to complete the Shadow God's will! The blasphemer must die!"
"Praise the darkness!"
"Praise the darkness!"
"Praise the darkness!"
With dark fervor, each of them summoned a new shadow soldier, ready to finish what the first one couldn't.
And then—it happened.
A wave of complete darkness surged from all directions, swallowing the area in seconds.
"!!!"
"This feeling...!"
For a moment, they stood frozen.
Then their fear twisted into wild joy.
"It's him! The God of Shadows!"
"He's here! The Shadow God is really here!"
"Hahaha! Praise the darkness! Praise him!!"
As they celebrated, a figure emerged from the shadows.
Luke, cloaked in dark energy, coughed lightly.
He stepped forward with calm authority.
"Praise the darkness," he said, voice low and resonant.
"...?"
The three stopped in their tracks, blinking in confusion at the man who just appeared out of nowhere.
Then their eyes narrowed in recognition.
"Blasphemer!"
"You're the blasphemer!"
Luke raised an eyebrow. "Actually… I'm the earthly messenger of Shaco, the Shadow God you worship."
He kept a straight face, though a smirk tugged at his lips.
"Don't throw the name of God around so easily," one of them snapped.
"That's just it," Luke replied. "You can't. But I can. Because I have a real connection with him."
He lifted his hand, letting pure, concentrated shadow energy swirl above his palm.
"Would a blasphemer have this?" he asked.
The shadow energy pulsed—stable, refined, powerful.
Their expressions changed.
That kind of energy… it was the real thing. No question about it.
"Unless… you think I stole it?" Luke added casually.
"But… we were told by the Shadow God to kill you…" one of them said, hesitating.
"Yeah, no," Luke replied flatly. "That was probably from some petty evil god trying to mislead gullible followers."
"But me? I'm the real deal."
He stepped closer, letting the dark energy flare just slightly.
"Shadow energy doesn't lie. You feel it too, don't you?"
The three cultists looked at each other, unsure… but swayed. Their gazes dropped. Their faith shaken.
Then—thud thud thud—they dropped to their knees.
"Oh great Messenger, forgive our ignorance!"
Luke crossed his arms, nodding in satisfaction.
"All good."
With that, he led the three into his garage, locking it behind them. Then he strolled back inside and casually picked up his phone.
"Hello? Coulson?"
"Yeah, it's me. Just rounded up a few cultists in my neighborhood."
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