Marvel: All My Incarnations Are S-Class Villainesses

Chapter 1: Chapter 1: New York Tough Girl Sumire

The night in New York was always fragmented by neon lights.

Especially in Hells Kitchen, where the air was forever thick with the scent of swill and low-quality tobacco.

Sumire tossed the black trash bag in her hand into a bin that had long since overflowed. Stepping out of the convenience store, she felt like she was just another piece of that rubbish.

She tugged at the red-and-white striped clerk’s uniform she hadn’t had time to change out of and sighed.

It had been eighteen years since she transmigrated, yet she still hadn’t gotten used to it.

She wasn’t used to this delicate little face that looked overly exquisite even with short hair, and she certainly wasn’t used to this god-awful start to life.

Looking up, her gaze pierced through the rusted fire escape. In the distance, she could vaguely see the towering Stark Tower in the heart of Manhattan, the giant ”STARK” glowing brilliantly in the night. On the other side, the big screens at Times Square were scrolling through a documentary commemorating the birth of Captain America.

Every scene served as a reminder.

She had transmigrated into the Marvel Universe, a World where superheroes were everywhere and supervillains were as common as dogs.

But all that glamour had nothing to do with her.

No system, no old man in a ring, no money power.

And, of course, no parents.

In this dog-eat-dog Hells Kitchen, being alone didn’t just mean freedom; it meant being at the very bottom of the food chain.

”If you don’t have that hundred thousand dollars plus interest ready by next month, it won’t be the furniture we take next time—it’ll be you. The boys happen to be short a hostess.”

Sumire recalled the ultimatum left by Jason, a thug under Kingpin.

Her gaze was as cold as ice.

That was no joke.

After transmigrating, the only thing Sumire had going for her was this face. But here, beauty without the power to protect it was an original sin.

Sumire pulled down her baseball cap, hiding her messy black short hair further, and quickened her pace.

To protect herself, she had maintained a ”tomboy” look for years—chest binders, cargo pants, loose jackets—making herself look as rough as possible.

However, Murphy’s Law always took effect particularly fast in Hells Kitchen.

As she passed a small, dark alley without streetlights, a few frivolous whistles blocked her path.

”Yo, whose little beauty is this? Walking alone so late at night, aren’t you scared?”

Three sleazy thugs emerged from the shadows, blocking the entrance to the alley.

The leader, with Green-hair, was nonchalantly flipping a switchblade. His gaze scraped over Sumire like sticky snot, making her feel nauseated.

Sumire’s heart tightened, and her body tensed up.

As the saying goes, the one thing Hells Kitchen never lacks is transmigrators... and thugs like these cockroaches.

Having lived here for so long, Sumire had seen plenty. As usual, she lowered her voice and said in a deliberately disguised, raspy tone:

”Get lost! I’m a guy! And I don’t have a cent!”

This trick used to work quite well. Combined with her flat, gender-ambiguous figure, it could deter many lowlifes looking to rob or assault someone.

But today, the green-haired thug paused for a moment, then exchanged a look with his companions and burst into an even more lewd fit of laughter.

”A guy?”

Green-hair stepped closer, licking his lips as the lustful glint in his eyes intensified. ”Even better! Guys have more stamina!”

”???”

Sumire’s pupils shook.

Was Hells Kitchen some kind of breeding ground for monsters? Why were these people getting more and more perverted?!

Before she could react, the three thugs had already surrounded her in a triangular formation.

Green-hair reached out, wanting to touch her face. ”Come on, let big brother check you out. Let’s compare sizes...”

Sumire gritted her teeth, feeling as if the blood in her entire body was flowing backward.

In an instant, fear, disgust, resentment, and eighteen years of pent-up frustration exploded in Sumire’s chest like a volcano.

Screw transmigration! Screw this life!

Out of the corner of her eye, Sumire spotted a broken, rusty water pipe in the corner.

The moment Green-hair’s fingers were about to touch her skin, she moved.

She didn’t run like a startled deer; instead, she acted like a cornered wolf.

She lunged down and snatched up that cold, heavy water pipe.

”Bang!”

There were no fancy moves.

The rusty pipe whistled through the air and slammed solidly into Green-hair’s forehead.

A dull thud.

Blood sprayed out like an open faucet, splattering all over Sumire’s face.

The warm, metallic liquid slid down her cheeks. Her originally exquisite face now looked savage and bewitching under the bloodstains.

Green-hair was dazed, frozen in place.

Sumire held the blood-stained pipe with both hands, her chest heaving violently. Though physiological tears welled up uncontrollably in the corners of her eyes, her lips curled into a crazed smile: ”That’s it? Come on! Weren’t we comparing sizes?”

She brandished the iron pipe: ”Is your daddy big enough for you? Is it thick enough!”

Green-hair, of course, didn’t answer. His eyes rolled back, and he fell straight backward.

Dead silence filled the air.

The other two thugs were stunned.

They had expected this ”tomboy” to cry, beg for mercy, or even run, but they never imagined this seemingly soft little lamb would strike so ruthlessly!

「Ding! Villainess potential detected in host.」

「”villainess simulation game” has been activated.」

「First Critical Hit achievement reached. villainess value +100.」

An emotionless, mechanical female voice suddenly exploded in Sumire’s mind.

Sumire couldn’t help but widen her eyes, her hands gripping the water pipe trembling violently.

What was that sound? Am I so nervous that I’m hallucinating?

However, reality didn’t give her time to investigate.

”Aaaaah! My head! I’m bleeding! You damn bitch!”

Perhaps he had taken quite a few drugs, but Green-hair on the ground hadn’t actually passed out. Instead, he clutched his head and regained his senses, letting out a pig-like wail, ”Grab her! Don’t let her run! I’m going to play her to death tonight!”

The other two thugs snapped out of it and lunged forward with murderous looks.

Sumire was, after all, just a girl with a weak physical frame. That previous strike had already pushed her adrenaline to its limit.

Just as she raised the water pipe, she was hit by a massive force—a kick to the abdomen.

”Ugh!”

Sumire groaned in pain, stumbling back and slamming hard against the stained wall. Her internal organs felt as if they had been rearranged.

”Clang.”

The water pipe slipped from her hand.

The two thugs flanked her, their arms like iron pincers as they pinned her against the wall and lifted her into the air.

Sumire kicked her legs desperately, but it was futile. She was like a fish hanging on a hook.

Green-hair, his face covered in blood, stood up shakily. With a distorted expression, he picked up the switchblade and approached step by step:

”You think you’re tough, huh? What good is being tough now? I’m going to cut your tendons first and see how you struggle then!”

Despair washed over her like a cold tide.

Was it going to end like this?

After struggling for eighteen years since transmigrating, was this the end she would meet?

In her previous life, as a hardcore Marvel fan, Sumire had imagined ten thousand ways to die.

Perhaps turning into ash from Thanos’s snap, or being crushed into meat paste by a Chitauri leviathan during the Battle of New York... At least those would be grand, meaningful deaths.

But she never imagined she would end up in a filthy alley, at the mercy of a few low-life thugs who didn’t even deserve names!

This was... the ultimate joke!

「villainess value has reached the threshold. Would you like to start the first avatar draw?」

The voice in her head rang out again.

This time, Sumire heard it clearly. It wasn’t a hallucination!

Could it be... a system?!

Seriously, man, what took you so long?!

The wild joy of surviving a hopeless situation quickly dispelled her fear. Sumire screamed at the top of her lungs in her heart:

”Draw! Give me a draw! I don’t care what it is, as long as it can kill these bastards!!”

「Drawing in progress...」

Sumire’s vision seemed to turn black and white as a massive virtual roulette spun wildly before her eyes.

Countless black silhouettes flashed by: a cold knight wielding a pitch-black holy sword, an enchanting woman with fox ears, a red-haired demon with chains floating behind her... Faster! Hurry up!

Green-hair’s foul face was already inches away. His filthy hand reached for her torn collar, attempting to strip away her last shred of dignity.

”This is what happens when you resist me...” Green-hair sneered.

「Ding! Congratulations, Host, on drawing a B-rank avatar—Reze (chainsaw man · bomb demon).」

「avatar deployed.」

Time seemed to freeze at this moment.

In the air of that dark alley, a scent mixed with gunpowder and flowers suddenly wafted through.

A slender figure, like a ghost, appeared silently out of thin air between Sumire and Green-hair.

?!

Sumire discovered, with both horror and wonder, that her consciousness had suddenly split in two.

One half remained in that pinned, trembling body.

The other half had entered a new shell—one that looked fragile yet surged with a violent, turbulent heat.

Green-hair’s fingers were less than a centimeter away from Sumire’s collarbone, but that final centimeter became a chasm he would never cross in his life.

A fair little hand rested on Green-hair’s arm.

”Hmm?”

Green-hair was taken aback. By the faint moonlight, he saw the newcomer clearly.

It was a girl with purple, shoulder-length short hair wearing a black choker.

Her green eyes held a trace of timid shyness, making her look like an innocent schoolgirl who had just happened to pass by.

”Um... Mister,” the girl tilted her head, her voice soft and sweet, her cheeks slightly flushed: ”Bullying girls is wrong, you know.”

”Huh? Where the hell did you come from...”

Green-hair instinctively reached out with his other hand, wanting to take advantage of the situation: ”Are you her friend? Then come along too.”

However, the moment he exerted force.

The fragile girl’s gaze changed.

The shyness faded, replaced by a heart-stopping indifference—the result of the Soviet Union’s tempered killing techniques.

Reze’s wrist twisted like a nimble snake, suddenly snapping onto Green-hair’s joint.

”Crack!”

”Aaaaah!!”