I'm in an American comic book, and all my teammates are main characters and bosses.

Chapter 28 - How many Witchers could be killed by a fall from three meters high?

Late at night, Ron kicked Daredevil out of the hospital gate.

rubbing his backside, Matt didn't seem to care about the extra shoe prints on his suit. Instead, he scratched his head blankly and asked, "That's... all right? Shall I go?"

"Get up, get up, hurry up, I have other things to take care of."

"Oh, then I'll really be going..."

Before Matt could finish speaking, Ron slammed the iron door shut with a loud 'bang!'. Seeing that Ron really didn't want him to stay there, Matt wasn't angry. Instead, he happily helped lock the door, waved to Ron, and then jogged off into Hell's Kitchen.

Of course, after running only two or three steps, Matt quickly realized that his physical abilities were now far beyond those of ordinary people, and there was no need for him to run obediently like before.

Then, with a little effort, and without even being very serious, Matt jumped directly to the top of the three-story building, which is ten meters high.

Besides the significant enhancement to his physical abilities, Matt could also clearly feel that many of his senses had been amplified. Previously, he could hear the sounds of his targets several blocks away. Now, he could hear almost every sound in Manhattan.

There were many sounds, some of which were particularly intense and noisy, forcing Matt to restrict his hearing again, just as he had done before.

After thinking for a moment, Matt then ventured deeper into Hell's Kitchen—where there were many scumbags waiting for him to deal with.

In the past, Matt had limited energy. But now, Matt feels like he has endless energy!

Ron didn't pay much attention as he watched Matt leave, but instead pondered the memo messages in the system.

It's a bit of a shame that the Blood Echo extracted from Kokushibo is incomplete. Although Matt fused with it well, it's still far from Ron's vision of receiving Kokushibo's abilities without any side effects.

Is it because the eye in his brain hasn't opened yet? This is really a headache. It seems like this thing requires a specific umbilical cord to activate... Hopefully, the newborn Matt will provide him with more system coins.

But at that moment, accompanied by a system notification, Ron's expression began to look interesting.

[Ding! Changes detected in the world. The abandoned universe access procedure is complete. Hospital team member number three has arrived. Please accept the arrival promptly.]

[Note: After Member Number Three successfully joins the team, the abandoned universe will undergo a new round of system updates. Please be aware of the changes in the world.]

Member number three has arrived? A new world change? Ha, this is going to be fun!

Ron's intuition told him that this change was where he would make the most of the system coins—

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Geralt suddenly felt a sense of weightlessness.

This strange feeling came and went quickly. Judging by the time, he had only fallen about two meters. When Geralt came to his senses and opened his eyes again, he was greeted by a sky full of yellowish-brown dust.

Where is this...?

Geralt looked around warily—he was certain he had never been here before. And if he remembered correctly, he seemed to have just heard a voice asking him if he wanted to break free from the shackles of fate and make up for those irreparable regrets.

Geralt's feelings about fate are also complex—he's called Geralt of Rivia, but neither his father nor mother are Rivia. The reason Geralt is called "of Rivia" is simply because when he first went to Vizima, people said he had an "unpleasant" Rivia accent.

But in the end, he died in Livia.

With such a past, even if Geralt doesn't believe in fate, he still has some thoughts about it.

With this in mind, Geralt casually replied, "Of course."

Then, regardless of Geralt's own wishes, by the time Geralt came to his senses, he was already here.

[Ding, teleportation complete. Please proceed to the "hospital" in New York as soon as possible and contact the team leader.]

What base? What leader? He just wanted to find Ciri as soon as possible. Base? Leader? What on earth were these things?

Geralt frowned slightly at the inexplicable message. He wanted to ask about the subtitles that only he could see, but just as Geralt was about to say something, footsteps came from not far away, accompanied by the fluctuations caused by spatial teleportation.

What came into view was a group of men clad in armor.

These people were clearly not to be trifled with. Perhaps because the ambient temperature was rather high, they weren't wearing much clothing on their upper bodies. Of the five or six people, nearly half were shirtless, only wearing some simple belts.

Their eyes were fierce, and they held an iron object that Geralt had never heard of before. It seemed that the noise he made when he appeared had brought them here, so the moment they saw him, they immediately began a barrage of pleasantries.

"#%&*#@&……"

Because of the different worlds they lived in, Geralt couldn't understand what they were saying. But judging from their expressions and actions, they clearly didn't have much goodwill.

[Ding, system loading complete, language translation module activated.]

The moment after the system's voice sounded, Geralt heard the leading man point at him and say:

"Damn! Looks like he's mute! But his armor is pretty good! Kill him and strip him of his armor!"

As soon as the leader spoke, two rather thin-looking henchmen approached him. One drew a knife from his waist, while the other simply raised his gun, aiming it at Geralt's head.

Although he didn't know what the so-called "gun" was, it didn't stop Geralt from clearly feeling the sense of danger coming from that dark iron pipe.

A special crossbow? Or some kind of unheard-of special weapon?

Even as he thought this, Geralt's movements didn't falter. The instant the knife-wielding terrorist approached Geralt, before the terrorist could even swing his blade, Geralt drew his steel sword from his back with lightning speed.

As a master swordsman, those who have witnessed Geralt's swordsmanship often use the ballet term "pirouette," meaning "rotating the body with the toes touching the ground," to describe his style. While it may sound strange, this demonstrates that Geralt's swordsmanship perfectly combines elegance, speed, and practicality.

However, now, facing a target who has no sense of defense, Geralt did not choose fancy sword techniques, but simply drew his sword and then launched a swift slash.

A flash of silver light, and a head fell to the ground.

Seeing Geralt's action, the terrorists who were watching from the sidelines changed color instantly, and then pulled the trigger without hesitation. In an instant, the AK47s, which were already ready to fire, spewed out blazing flames.

The speed of bullets is beyond imagination. When precisely aimed, dodging a bullet with an initial velocity of 850 meters per second at close range is practically impossible. However, for Geralt himself, while bullets are difficult to dodge, dodging aimed shots is much easier.

The armor on his body felt like plastic, not affecting Geralt's agility at all. As he rolled to dodge the gunfire, Geralt glanced at the wall beside him. Clearly visible were the craters left by the brass bullets in the hard rock.

Having determined its power and speed, Geralt's brow furrowed with seriousness.

Without pausing, the instant he regained his balance, he surged forward. Geralt's powerful physique as a Witcher allowed him to instantly surpass the explosive power of a galloping horse.

Clad in full armor, Geralt's imposing 1.88-meter frame slammed head-on into the terrorist's chest. The heavy impact penetrated deep into his internal organs through his soft abdomen, and in an instant, the terrorist was sent flying without even a scream; his eyes rolled back and he collapsed unconscious.

Upon seeing this, the other terrorists nearby realized something was wrong and raised their rifles and cannons.

Unfortunately, Geralt had already reached them, and even with the aid of firearms, they had lost all chance of winning against Geralt's overwhelming strength.

The longsword in his hand left streaks of swift silver light in the air. Although he was a man and incredibly burly, the way his sword moved and the corpses lay strewn about, the transitions between his moves displayed a dance-like finesse and fluidity.

"I guarantee you, if this guy went to Broadway in New York, he'd be the most sought-after opera singer! I just don't know how his voice is... but with that swordsmanship, even if he couldn't sing, he'd be a top-notch dancer!"

"Don't say anything, or he'll notice us..."

"Don't worry, I kept my voice very low. Besides, with the gunshots so loud, even if we spoke loudly, he wouldn't notice..."

Whispers could be heard from not far away.

The sound was indeed very soft, so soft that even if an ordinary person listened with great effort, it would be difficult to hear the two whispering among the sand and gravel in the Middle East, where hot winds blow everywhere.

But how should I put it? The reason why a Witcher is a Witcher is because his explosive power, reflexes, endurance, and even his senses such as vision, hearing, and smell are far superior to those of ordinary people.

The sound had been faintly present since the very beginning of the battle, but Geralt hadn't had time to pay it any attention. Now that the battle was over, Geralt felt it was time to find out what was going on.

Thinking this, Geralt looked into the wall not far away with his amber eyes. On that sandstone wall, he could vaguely see a small window, sealed with steel bars, used for letting in light and ventilation.

Behind that window were two furtive heads.

One looked slightly frightened, while the other was full of schadenfreude.

However, after making eye contact with Geralt, this gloating head turned deathly pale in less than five seconds.

"Holy crap! He saw me! Ethan! Get ready! Let's move the plan forward!!"

Hearing Tony Stark's words, Ethan's face was filled with despair. Pointing to the iron gate beside him, he said, "Where do we think we're going? Our armor has only just been finished, it's not even assembled yet! The engines aren't even activated!"

He paused, then said hesitantly, "And... although I'm just a second-rate physics PhD, are you sure this suit will actually work? It doesn't seem scientific at all..."

Upon hearing Ethan's doubts about his masterpiece, Tony momentarily forgot the sense of crisis Geralt had instilled in him and earnestly corrected him:

"Ethan, you can question my character and personal ethics, but you absolutely cannot question my genius! I am Tony Stark! Give me enough time, and there's nothing I can't accomplish! And, this is perfectly scientific!"

Before Tony could finish speaking, he saw Ethan staring in horror at the space behind him and above him.

Seeing Ethan's strange expression, Tony's heart skipped a beat. He then turned around and looked at the silver-haired man through the ventilation window behind them. The man had a pair of amber eyes, like those of a wild beast, and vertical slits, staring at them.

The eyes of a Witcher are distinctly different from those of ordinary people. Apart from their amber-colored pupils, the most striking feature is their vertical eyes, which resemble those of a wild beast.

Under other circumstances, it wouldn't have been a problem, but in this sudden situation, when their eyes met, Tony felt a chill run down his spine.

But just as Tony was about to say something, he saw the person's face, which was on the small window, slowly recede, as if they had left.

Seeing this, Tony breathed a sigh of relief, wiped the sweat from his brow, and said casually to Ethan beside him, "Looks like we're lucky. At least we're locked up, and he can't get in."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a sudden shockwave slammed violently into the sandstone wall behind Tony.

With a loud rumbling sound, numerous cracks appeared in the originally solid sandstone wall.

Before anyone could react, another impact struck. This time, the wall wasn't as lucky as before; it crumbled instantly under the impact of this unknown energy, sending dust flying everywhere.

And in the dust was a silver-haired man with beast-like eyes, one hand outstretched forward.

It wasn't smashed open, but rather blasted open with a magic seal.

Signs are simple and quick-to-cast spells mastered by witchers. They require no incantations or mediums; they can be cast simply by concentrating the mind and using a hand gesture.

The Aard sign, through focused concentration and hand gestures, releases a powerful psychic shockwave that can knock enemies away and easily destroy some obstacles.

Sandstone isn't exactly a very hard rock, but the wall's thickness was somewhat beyond Geralt's expectations. In addition, he was somewhat exhausted when he arrived in this world, which is why it took him two attempts to break through it.

(End of this chapter)