Marvel : The God Of Punishment System

At Jason's approach, Stern—his head absurdly oversized like a basketball—hurried forward and offered a polite greeting.

"How's our progress?"

Stern shook his head regretfully. "Same roadblock as before. Our test subjects lose their humanity after Hulk serum injection. Sure, they match the Hulk's raw strength, but their minds turn to mush too. Best case scenario? They're stuck with a five-year-old's intelligence. These things can't follow basic commands, let alone complex military operations."

Jason toured the laboratory, passing rows of restrained test subjects. They strained against their bonds like rabid animals—no trace of human awareness behind their eyes, only primal hunger for violence.

He stopped at the final observation room. Inside, a glass chamber held a green liquid suspension. A gaunt figure floated within this emerald soup.

"What the hell is this?" Jason demanded, slightly taken aback.

"This was... an accidental creation," Stern explained nervously. "I combined the Hulk formula with several mutant serums to produce something... unprecedented."

Jason studied the skeletal form behind the glass, frowning. "Strong?"

"Potentially off the charts."

"Potentially?"

Stern gave a nervous laugh. "Truth is, I've been too scared to properly test its limits. During its creation, it displayed multiple mutant abilities simultaneously: Cyclops-tier energy beams, superhuman speed, incredible strength, flight capabilities... I stopped counting after that. But one thing's certain—this thing isn't hero material. Hell, it's not even suited for military use. Best I could do was lock it away. All I know for sure is it has seriously limited brainpower."

Jason considered this for a long moment. "Can you replicate the process?"

Stern blinked in surprise. "What exactly are you planning?"

"I need an army of monsters like this one. A big army."

Silence stretched between them before Stern asked carefully, "How many are we talking?"

"As many as you can produce," Jason said, his smile carrying dark promise.

Stern smile "I'll get started."

…

After days of mounting dread, New York's reckoning finally arrived. The majority of residents had wisely evacuated through various means. A select few thousand had accepted sanctuary in Jason's Kingdom.

The remainder—those lacking both funds for escape and faith for salvation—were left to their fate. When Hell's armies marched, their suffering would go unmourned.

The day arrived with savage winds and oppressive black clouds choking out the sun. Dark mist crept through Manhattan's streets like living shadow.

Hell's aristocracy descended upon New York. Mephisto and Lucifer led their infernal parade, seeking ancient connections through the city's churches. Heaven's gates were being forced open.

Heaven hadn't completely abandoned the mortal world, but their attention had faded over centuries. What began as devotion had degraded into entitlement. Angels who once guarded humanity had become frozen decoration—transforming into gargoyles perched on cathedral spires, Christ figures on crucifixes, or statues of the Virgin Mary.

For generations, they'd forgotten their sacred duty. Celestial guardians had devolved into parasitic entities, feeding on faith while offering nothing in return. When Hell's invasion began, divine panic spread like wildfire.

Church "Jesus" figures carrying crosses and "Mary" sculptures clutching divine infants all abandoned their posts, fleeing desperately back to Heaven's protection.

Among those retreating angels lurked a traitor. Randkiel—supposedly dispatched by God to investigate blasphemy at San Vanganza—was recorded as torn apart by murderous villagers. The truth was far more sinister: Mephisto and Randkiel had orchestrated an elaborate deception.

The true victims were the citizens of San Vanganza. God's wrath transformed their home into a "forsaken land," cursing over thirty thousand souls to endless torment. From their suffering emerged a thousand malevolent spirits.

Divine justice had punished the innocent!

Now came the inevitable reckoning. Stranded angels poured into Heaven's refuge, yet their realm remained eerily silent—blind to the approaching storm.

At last, traitor Randkiel opened Heaven's portal above Manhattan. Multiple demon lords materialized instantly at the celestial threshold. Mephisto, Lucifer, Satannish, Torge—Hell's most fearsome rulers commanded vast legions as they charged with bloodthirsty roars into Heaven's domain!

…

Amidst the chaos, Mephisto quietly detached from Hell's advancing force. Through Stark's stolen body, he infiltrated the Avengers compound.

"KNOCK KNOCK!"

"Come in," Jason called.

He observed Stark's entrance—immaculate suit, practiced smile—with carefully concealed interest.

"Unexpected visit," Jason remarked, glancing through windows at the apocalyptic sky. Angels and demons locked in desperate aerial combat cast bizarre shadows across the grounds. "Shouldn't you be managing your robot army's defense of the city instead of dropping by for social calls?"

Stark's possessed lips curled into a calculated smile. "Shouldn't the Avengers support Heaven in this crisis? Yet here you are, conspicuously absent from battle."

"When New York needed Heaven's help, we got nothing," Jason shot back.

Stark nodded thoughtfully. "Fair point..." He paused, then continued, "There was an incident in Hell recently. Some despicable mortal planted nuclear devices in their domain, killing a hundred thousand demons. I wonder if you know anything about this tragedy?"

Jason spread his hands innocently. "First I'm hearing of it. Hard to imagine such brutality could occur. You have my deepest sympathies for the fallen hellspawn!"

Stark's eyes narrowed. "You truly claim ignorance?"

"How would you know such classified information, Tony?"

Mephisto's consciousness suddenly prickled with alertness, scanning the room suspiciously. "What's your game?"

"No game. What's yours?"

After a tense silence: "You know I'm not really Stark."

Jason nodded simply. "Suspected as much."

"Heh." Mephisto's voice dripped with dark amusement. "Then explain why you face me with such calm confidence?"

Jason met his gaze evenly. "Let me ask you something—how could you assault Heaven so boldly?"

Mephisto hesitated.

"Was it Hell's military might? Your demonic courage? Masterful strategy?" Jason shook his head dismissively. "None of those. You're riding on Heaven's own arrogance. Ever consider that maybe—just maybe—I'm counting on yours, Mephisto?"

As they spoke, translucent barriers materialized—black and crimson energy coalescing into a sphere. Jason's domain: Corpse Mountain, Blood Seas Battlefield, manifested fully.

Mephisto sensed the dimensional shift without fear. "Fool! I've descended in my true form! This territory of yours will shatter within moments!"

Jason casually gestured, opening an enormous obsidian portal adjacent to his crimson realm.

"You seem to misunderstand," Jason smiled wickedly. "I only need you restrained for an instant."

Mephisto studied the pitch-black gateway, unease creeping through his infernal essence. "What... what is that portal?"

Jason's grin widened malevolently. "Your new prison."

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