After defeating the monster, Beatrix collapsed onto the bed. As soon as his eyes shut, his stamina bar instantly refilled to max. When he stood up again, he felt more energetic than before.
Previously, he'd already noticed: this game not only let him summon DC and Marvel heroes via web-like links to beat up bad guys, it also functioned like a body-strengthening simulator—turning the user into a better, faster, stronger version of themselves.
Last time, when he took that test at the Division Nine HQ, even though the results disappointed Professor Miyazaki—who couldn't see any signs of supernatural ability—Beatrix himself saw it as a major breakthrough.
After all, not all bodies are made equal.
Some people are built like tanks—able to fight all night without sleep.
Others? They're the type who shout "I'll do it!" only to drop dead in one move…
Then lie there moaning, "I'm done, just let me die," while their teammates get pummeled.
Beatrix used to be that second type—practically useless outside of games.
He knew himself well.
A true degenerate shut-in.
Aside from gaming, he was useless at everything.
A textbook example of: "Hunched in real life, powerhouse in-game."
His veins didn't run with Coke—just saturated fat.
So when his physical assessment turned out above-average for his age group, he was truly shocked.
Especially since he had only played the game a handful of times.
That kind of rapid physical enhancement?
Insane.
Of course, he also guessed that early-stage gains were the easiest.
His foundation was trash, so any improvement looked impressive.
He knew things would slow down over time.
What he wasn't sure of yet was:
Could this method of enhancement actually surpass the human limit?
Could he reach the level of those "barehanded steel-benders, stone-splitters, and child prodigies born to pull carts?"
Well… maybe. But that wasn't important right now.
Besides raw physical upgrades, there was also the in-game shop, where he could use hero points to redeem new heroes and equipment.
New heroes meant more playable characters—like a Pokémon roster of superheroes.
If he could draw someone like Superman or the Hulk, just that brute strength alone would be crazy helpful.
Beatrix got up, washed off the sweat, changed into clean clothes, and ordered takeout.
Then he sat back down in front of his computer.
Even though he had slept enough, he was starving.
Gaming, after all, is a high-intensity sport.
And everyone knows: don't game on an empty stomach.
So he decided not to jump into another mission until his food arrived.
Instead, he opened the in-game store.
Last night, after the Batman mission, he'd been so exhausted that he collapsed without even checking his loot.
Now was the time to see what he earned.
He had wiped out an entire villain base with Agent Cid, confronted a terrifying tentacle monster, and endured a psychic attack featuring the ghost of Bruce Wayne's parents—all to save the world.
The reward list for that mission was no joke.
Compared to his earlier quests fighting street thugs, this was a jackpot.
When he checked his hero points balance—
Over 2,400.
And on top of that, he received a "C-Rank Hero Ticket" good for 8 single pulls in the summon pool.
Let's goooo!
For someone who had burned through all his points on his first ten-pull and been broke ever since, this was a massive win.
Without hesitation, Beatrix jumped up, washed his hands (to cleanse the bad luck), then returned to his PC and opened the summon interface.
Every gacha gamer knows the dream:
"True luck exists. Even trash summons can yield miracles."
But real-world experience has taught us that the only miracle is how consistent the disappointment is.
Beatrix clicked on the C-Rank Portal and activated his first draw—
"Thank you for participating."
...Welp.
No worries.
Each pull cost 50 points. With over 2,400 points, he could draw 48 times.
The first dud was just the warm-up.
DNF veterans call this the "bottom-tier warm-up pull."
A dead fish in a long ocean dive.
Beatrix continued—
Draw! "Thank you for participating."
Draw! "Thank you for participating."
Draw! "Thank you for participating."
Draw! "Thank you for participating."
...
Thirteen pulls.
Thirteen failures.
His expression darkened.
Hands trembling, he hovered the mouse over the fourteenth draw.
Just give me something—ANYTHING.
Even a decent piece of gear, I'll take it.
He clicked.
And then—
A golden glow.
They say a man may faint at 3D… but never at 36D.
Because emerging from the shimmering light was:
A female superhero, clad in skin-tight leather, with curves straight out of a fantasy render.
Long legs, white skin, twin sais like Raphael from Ninja Turtles.
Elektra.
A Marvel anti-hero.
Former lover of Daredevil, top-tier assassin, stealth expert.
A solid B- or C-list hero by popularity—but in terms of skill? High-end.
Compared to Batman, though?
Not quite there.
She had the same problem as Huntress—too much skill overlap with Batman.
Beatrix realized most of the C-tier hero pool had this issue.
DC and Marvel were full of street-level heroes—
And compared to Batman, they all felt like cheap knockoffs.
Still, he had points to burn.
Time for another ten-pull!
This time he got:
Two random gear items.
Six "Thank you for participating" duds.
Two new characters.
First was a skintight-black-suit-wearing bombshell with silver hair and… very exaggerated headlights.
Felicia Hardy aka Black Cat.
Thief, anti-hero, occasional Spider-Man love interest.
Basically, Marvel's answer to Catwoman.
Even her personality screamed "ripoff"—
Sexy, dangerous, chaotic neutral, and obsessed with the main hero.
But Beatrix wasn't mad.
At least her skill set was distinct from Batman's—as a thief, she might be useful in future stealth or infiltration missions.
Now the second character…
"Crowbar?"
Beatrix squinted at the name.
Crowbar?
Was that… even a hero?
The portrait showed a bald, muscular black man with a skull emblem on his chest and a goofy-looking outfit.
He looked more like a generic thug Batman beats up in alleyways.
What kind of C-list reject was this?
Beatrix opened the profile.
Apparently, "Crowbar" was a DC villain—originally just a gang leader who fought with—you guessed it—a crowbar.
Later, he was recruited by a supervillain organization.
The boss was so generous, he handed out high-tech gear to all the minions.
When asked for his name and specialty, this guy stammered:
"Uh… I'm Crowbar. And I'm… uh… really good with crowbars?"
The boss: deep sigh
And gave him a futuristic plasma rifle…
Shaped like a crowbar.
Beatrix facepalmed.
"Is this for real?!"
"Is this even a real character?!"
Apparently yes.
He even joined the Suicide Squad for a while, so technically he qualified as an anti-hero.
Beatrix: ...
"So even Z-tier villains get gacha cards now?"
He suddenly understood.
This was like when the cafeteria lady gave you a mountain of green peppers and exactly three pieces of meat.
The devs padded the gacha pool with garbage characters just to fill space.
And considering how many obscure characters Marvel and DC had created over the past century—
He realized, with horror…
"They could keep adding trash characters forever…"