In a Smallville barbershop, Axel appeared out of nowhere.
Landing smoothly, he stared at his chest and pursed his lips.
"Not an illusion… my body really has surpassed human limits. Sprinting doesn't tire me, and bullets can't even pierce my bones."
He muttered to himself, then looked up at the stunned barber and a few frozen customers.
The barber swallowed hard and bolted, customers scattering across the street into a nearby apartment building. Only a woman mid-perm froze in place, trembling as she tried to lift her head from the machine.
"What… what's happening… uh!?" she stammered.
Without Axel lifting a finger, she fainted, collapsing dramatically. Axel chuckled, walking past her and casually patting the perming machine on her head.
"Stop faking it, genius. Even a fool can tell if someone's actually out cold. Lean back like that and someone might think… something else entirely. And seriously, leave your scalp alone, it's not a pizza!"
He unplugged the machine, then strode out of the shop, rifle in hand.
Axel moved swiftly through the streets, every corner patrolled by General Lane's men. Smallville was experiencing its first taste of chaos: sporadic gunfire and explosions made the town feel like a war zone from 1942.
Axel had died multiple times to explosions, and with each Death, his abilities grew stronger. Forty minutes later, after eight consecutive deaths, the balance of power in Smallville had completely shifted.
High above, a stern man watched the chaos on his tablet, eyes narrowing at the footage. Axel was charging toward five soldiers at impossible speed.
Suddenly, Axel's head jerked violently.
"Hiss!" the man hissed, enlarging the view on a nearby screen. A sniper bullet had lodged in the back of Axel's head—yet all that remained was a patch of missing hair.
The man ran a ballistic analysis, tracing the sniper's trajectory to a hidden rooftop.
"An M24… stopped by his scalp?" he muttered, lips pursed.
"Axel's strength keeps rising with time, maybe tied to his repeated Deaths. I wanted to analyze his combat response, but I can't sit on the sidelines any longer."
He grabbed a parachute pack and addressed his waiting subordinates.
"Start the operation early. Distract the military and Lane. That foolish daughter of his should be useful. People cling to purpose; we'll give them one. Begin."
"Yes, Master!"
The aircraft cabin doors opened. Dozens of ninjas poured out like shadows. The Master raised his fist, and the swarm descended.
Back in Smallville, Axel's head throbbed.
"Damn it, sniper, my head's killing me."
He shook it, searching for the bullet's origin. Another shot rang out. Axel raised his hand instinctively, the bullet striking his palm.
"Ugh!" he grunted, tossing the bloodied projectile aside. The skin was scraped, nothing more.
Axel spat blood, then pursued the soldiers shifting their positions. Panic had already taken over the enemy ranks:
"The target's power… it's impossible!"
"Rifles barely bruise him!"
"Normal bullets do nothing—he's like a beast!"
Axel closed in. With a ten-meter leap, he used a soldier's back as a springboard, stomping him to the ground. Before the man could recover, Axel slammed a knee into the back of his head. Crack!
Other soldiers screamed hysterically.
"You're a devil!"
"Crazy!"
"Madman!"
"Mommy!"
Axel's bounds covered more than ten meters. He pressed down on a rifle barrel, blocking it with his left hand. Tat-tat-tat! The rifle exploded, metal shards embedding in the soldier's face. Axel punched the fragments into the soldier's skull, ripping his fist free.
Another soldier ran at him, grenade in hand.
"Go to hell, monster!" he yelled, arms outstretched.
Axel grinned and opened his arms.
"I like the title 'monster.' I'd rather be one than just another mortal. You despair, yet I admire your courage. Let my embrace comfort you as you step into Death. Good luck in the Afterlife, Buddy."
Boom!
High above, under a parachute, the Master watched Axel emerge from fire and explosions, bruised but alive.