Marvel: Hunter

Chapter 413: Vulture

While listening, Blaine kept steering the conversation in that direction. He had nothing better to do anyway, so he casually teased the little Spider-Man.

"Well, Blaine, you have a point. Alien weapons aren't easy to get. They must have some kind of special channel."

"Don't eat, Ned—we have to go."

"Oh—oh—okay."

Before leaving, the chubby boy didn't forget to grab a turkey leg.

Watching the two of them get up and leave so abruptly, Blaine looked puzzled. He had just agreed and continued the topic, yet they were gone the moment they said so…

It seemed the little Spider-Man couldn't hold back anymore and wanted to investigate the forces behind this as soon as possible. That made sense—he had probably been itching for something to do these past few days. Now that there was finally a lead, once Blaine pointed it out, he immediately went after it.

Although the little Spider-Man hadn't said anything, Blaine felt he had some impression of the person involved. Not because he was omniscient, but because Blaine himself was essentially a "bug" in the Marvel world. After all, he knew parts of the plot in advance.

In other words, Blaine knew who this arms dealer was—the guy selling alien weapons.

If he remembered correctly, it was someone nicknamed "Vulture." Of course, that was just a nickname; Blaine couldn't recall his real name.

This "Vulture" had originally worked for a legitimate company, making a living by cleaning up after the Avengers or dealing with the aftermath of superhero battles.

But the good times didn't last. Stark Industries took over their line of work, pushing them out entirely. With Stark's resources, they had no chance of competing, and layoffs became inevitable.

After being laid off, Vulture led his crew to find another way to survive. They started salvaging alien wreckage and turning it into weapons, then selling them through illegal channels with some clever packaging.

As for why he was called "Vulture," it was because he had a metal flight suit resembling mechanical wings—something like a vulture. With it, he could fly and scavenge alien materials, creating a continuous cycle for his business.

Thinking about this, Blaine couldn't help but smile wryly. Just another small-time scavenger relying on scrap metal armor. To him, this kind of opponent was only interesting to heroes like Spider-Man, who had time to spare. For someone like Blaine, or even S.H.I.E.L.D., any agent could handle him easily.

He continued eating for a while. With the storm-like appetite of the young Spider-Man earlier, the table was finally cleared.

After wiping his mouth, Blaine teleported straight back to the villa area. People always feel too lazy to move after a full meal, and Blaine was no exception.

Fortunately, he didn't collapse onto the bed right away. Instead, he walked into the backyard, letting the breeze wash over him. Before he knew it, he had already begun using a bit of magic.

It seemed that before going to sleep, Blaine still wanted to get more familiar with the skills he had just acquired.

As he let loose, the backyard of the villa once again shimmered with colorful light in the darkness.

Red for a while, then green, then blue again. Even more astonishing, in just a few hours in the yard, it seemed to cycle through all four seasons.

At one moment, the heat was so intense that sweat poured down like rain; the next, it felt like a gentle spring breeze, indescribably comfortable. Then, in an instant, the air turned biting cold, as if one had been transported to the far north. If anyone outside had seen it, they might have thought Blaine's house was haunted.

This was the charm of magic—sometimes strong, sometimes subtle, endlessly changing. It could not only repel enemies but also unleash immense power.

After releasing all his magic and abilities once more, Blaine let out a long breath.

For some reason, while casting his spells, Blaine found himself thinking about the prehistoric Bounty Hunter.

When he had traveled back to that era and observed the battles, he hadn't seen them rely purely on brute physical strength. In other words, they didn't depend solely on their bodies to fight.

Blaine's current physique was already close to that of a god. As for the prehistoric Bounty Hunter, their physical abilities were undoubtedly extraordinary as well.

Yet despite such overwhelming physical strength, the prehistoric Bounty Hunter rarely relied on it, instead favoring magic in combat.

Was it because their opponents were too powerful? Because they were facing the Celestials? No—at least, Blaine didn't think so.

Compared to magic, Blaine believed that a powerful physique was fundamental. Only a strong body could sustain the use of so many abilities and spells.

Moreover, combat often relied on weapons. Take Blaine's Heavenly Dragon Trident, for example—an ordinary person couldn't even lift it. That alone demonstrated the importance of physical strength.

So Blaine had never doubted the prehistoric Bounty Hunter's physique. As for the Celestials, there was no need to question their power either.

But that was precisely what made it puzzling. Why would a being with such formidable physical strength prefer to rely on magic so heavily? And why would the already overwhelmingly powerful Celestials revert to the basics—closing the distance every time they attacked, using nothing but their absolute physical dominance to crush their opponents?

Blaine had been confused before, but now he understood.

Although the prehistoric Bounty Hunter possessed immense physical strength, there was still a gap when compared to the inherently superior Celestials.

Even so, that gap wasn't insurmountable through sheer physique alone. The prehistoric Bounty Hunter had other means—magic.

Powerful magic could not only enhance one's body but also strike unseen. When combined with a solid physical foundation and the advantage of a well-matched weapon, it was enough to wield world-altering power—like a prehistoric Bounty Hunter using a trident to slay a Celestial.

As for the Celestials, their physical forms were already near the peak of the Marvel universe. In battle, even if they stood still and allowed others to strike them with weapons or bombard them relentlessly, it would be nearly impossible to break through their defenses. (Of course, the prehistoric Bounty Hunter was an exception—and so was the trident.)

Because of this, they could easily overwhelm their enemies through sheer physical superiority alone. And perhaps it was precisely because of the overwhelming sensation of crushing opponents like ants with their own hands that they chose to rely on their bodies in combat.

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