Marvel x Dc: New magic

The stadium was alive with energy, the roar of the crowd echoing in my ears. My opponent stood across from me, a towering beast of muscle and fury, fists clenched like wrecking balls. But I wasn't afraid. This was my last fight—the fight that would cement my legacy.

The bell rang. We charged. Fists met flesh, pain seared through my ribs, but I pushed forward. I had been here before. I knew how to take a hit. My body moved on instinct, weaving, striking, countering. The world slowed as I saw my opening—an uppercut straight to his chin. My opponent's body went limp before he even hit the mat. The referee counted, the crowd erupted, and my arm was raised in victory. My last fight had ended in triumph.

I went home that night, feeling the ache of battle settle into my bones. A hot shower, a cold drink, my favourite anime playing on the screen—it was a perfect evening. I had plans for the future, dreams of what was next. But fate had other ideas.

A few hours later, a sharp pain tore through my chest. My breath hitched, my vision blurred, and then—darkness.

I woke to unfamiliar voices.

"Take him," a woman's voice commanded, cold and detached.

I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I was a baby—helpless, swaddled in blankets. My vision was blurry, but I could make out the woman handing me off to a tall, suited man. Kazumi Mishima. My mother, though she barely spared me a glance before turning and walking away.

"Raise him as your own," she ordered. "Make him strong."

And just like that, I became the property of the Italian mafia.

The family that took me in was the Giovanna Syndicate, one of the most feared mafia organizations in Italy. The man who had taken me that night was Don Salvatore Giovanna, the family patriarch. A broad-shouldered man with silver-streaked hair, piercing emerald eyes, and a sharp mind that had kept the family on top for decades. He didn't see me as a burden—he saw me as an opportunity.

"You have the blood of warriors in your veins, Leonardo," he said, holding me in his arms. "You will be raised as a Giovanna. And one day, you will be greater than any of us."

Growing up in the mafia wasn't easy. From the moment I could walk, I was surrounded by dangerous men, whispered conversations, and an unshakable sense of loyalty and honour. The family's key figures became my caretakers, each with their own distinct personality.

Don Salvatore Giovanna – The patriarch, wise and ruthless, but with an undeniable affection for me. He called me "Il mio piccolo leone" (my little lion).

Uncle Vito – The underboss, a grizzled, cigar-smoking brute with a heart of gold. He told the best bedtime stories—mostly about shootouts and heists.

Antonio "Tony Two-Times" – A loud, eccentric enforcer who repeated everything he said. "Hey, kid, you gotta eat, you gotta eat."

Lucia "Luci" DeRosa – Don Salvatore's niece and my unofficial older sister. She had a short temper and a mean right hook.

By the time I turned three, it was decided—I needed proper training.

The Masters of Leonardo Giovanna

Boyka – The Beast

My first trainer was Boyka, a brutal fighter who believed in pain as a lesson. He was all about endurance and strength.

"A real fighter does not complain," he growled, watching as I struggled through push-ups with weights strapped to my back. "Again!"

Every morning started with gruelling workouts. Running barefoot on gravel, punching sandbags filled with stones, sparring until my knuckles bled. Boyka didn't just want me strong—he wanted me unbreakable.

Despite his harsh methods, I grew to respect him. He treated me like a warrior, not a child. He'd give me a nod of approval when I landed a clean strike, and sometimes, after training, he'd tell me stories of his past fights over a plate of pasta.

Ip Man – The Teacher

At four, I met Ip Man. If Boyka was fire, Ip Man was water. He taught me discipline, technique, and how to control my power rather than be ruled by it.

"Strength is nothing without control, Leonardo," he would say, effortlessly dodging my wild punches. "Balance. Precision. That is true mastery."

Training with him was different. He made me meditate, forced me to focus, taught me how to move with grace. I hated it at first, but over time, I began to understand. He wasn't just teaching me how to fight—he was teaching me how to think.

He would sometimes sit with me at night, drinking tea, telling me about philosophy and history. Unlike Boyka, who trained the body, Ip Man was training my mind.

John Wick – The Ghost

Then came John Wick.

He was like a shadow, silent and deadly. From him, I learned firearms, tactics, survival. He drilled me in precision shooting, escape strategies, and hand-to-hand combat meant to kill in seconds.

"Never waste a movement," he said, handing me a knife. "Efficiency is survival."

I looked up to him, not just as a mentor but almost as a father figure. He didn't talk much, but his presence was enough. He taught me how to stay calm under pressure, how to make split-second decisions.

Sometimes, we'd sit in the back of the estate, cleaning guns in silence, an unspoken understanding between us.

August Walker – The Operator

Finally, August Walker arrived. A government operative, he was different from the rest—cold, calculated, and dangerously intelligent. He taught me deception, manipulation, and psychological warfare.

"Fighting is one thing, Leonardo," he said, adjusting his tie. "Winning without fighting? That's real power."

He taught me how to read people, how to lie without blinking, how to turn an enemy into an ally without them even realizing it.

I hated him at first. He made me play mind games, put me through mental torture to break me. But over time, I learned. I became sharp, quick-witted, and dangerously persuasive.

The Cave and the Minions

By the time I was five, I was already a force to be reckoned with. But my journey took an unexpected turn one evening when I wandered beyond the estate and stumbled upon an ancient cave hidden deep in the woods.

Inside, I found them.

Small, yellow creatures with wide eyes and mischievous grins. They chattered excitedly in a language I didn't understand—yet somehow, I did.

One of them stepped forward, staring at me. "Master?"

I tilted my head. "Yeah… I guess."

And just like that, the Minions had found their new boss.

( AN: He is Leonardo Giovanna, the bastard son of Yuujirou Hanma and Kazumi Mishima, raised by the Italian mafia, trained by legends, and now—leader of an army of yellow chaos's)