(so I decided to stick with Windwalker)
(I have created a Patreon if you want to read the next 10 chapters of this fanfiction then go to patreon.com/7_Night )
The sirens wailed.
"Woo woo!" Police sirens blared through the streets as a high-speed chase tore through the city at night. But if anyone were watching, they'd notice something strange—only two police cars were in pursuit, each with two officers inside. Meanwhile, the criminals they were chasing? Eight cars, all packed with people.
The chase had just entered Times Square. It was super late, and the normally bustling area was eerily empty. The gang clearly had a plan—they were about to split up, scattering in different directions to lose their pursuers.
But before they could execute their escape, something dropped from the sky.
A figure landed directly in their path.
The first car that got too close didn't stand a chance. A single slash of wind sliced through its frame like butter, splitting it clean in half. The cars behind it weren't spared either—an immense gust of wind blasted through, sending them soaring into the air before crashing in a tangled mess of metal and broken glass.
The people inside? Miraculously not dead, but definitely dazed as hell. They stumbled out of the wreckage, groaning and cursing, trying to get their bearings. Among them, two stood out.
One was a skinny guy with a mohawk. The other? A massive, muscle-bound man sporting a ridiculous pompadour.
Both locked eyes with the figure who had just single-handedly stopped the chase.
Windwalker.
The pompadour guy cracked his knuckles. "So this is the legendary Windwalker, huh?"
Mohawk guy scoffed. "Doesn't look that impressive to me. You were only famous 'cause you fought a bunch of thugs."
"But this time," the pompadour guy added, grinning, "it's different. This time, you're up against us. And unlike those losers you fought before, we have powers. We're the mythical—"
"Shut the hell up."
The two brothers blinked.
Windwalker stood there, completely unbothered. Arms crossed, eyes half-lidded in disinterest.
"I do not care," he said, his voice dripping with exhaustion. "Whatever nonsense you were about to say? Not interested. I already regret stopping you. And I definitely don't have time to deal with two dudes walking around with these stupid-ass haircuts."
The moment those words left his mouth, silence.
Then—
"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!" Both brothers screamed in unison, faces turning red with rage.
"Men! GET HIM!"
Apparently, while the two were busy introducing their greatness, the rest of their gang had surrounded Windwalker. Guns were drawn, fingers on the triggers, the cold steel glinting under the city lights.
Windwalker? He just smirked.
"Wow," he mused, completely unfazed. "You guys took that personally, huh?"
His stance relaxed. The air around him shifted.
The thugs noticed too late.
The wind began to rise.
As soon as the fight started, Windwalker sent a burst of wind crashing into a few of the gunmen, knocking them off their feet. That was all the signal the rest of the thugs needed. Gunfire erupted.
The massive man with the pompadour let out a roar and charged forward, his heavy footsteps cracking the pavement with each step. Super strength. Noted.
At the same time, the skinny guy with the mohawk raised both hands, and suddenly, orbs of fire materialized around him. With a wild grin, he launched them forward, each one hissing through the air like burning comets.
Two threats attacking at the same time.
Windwalker smiled. Not a problem.
As the bullets, fireballs, and a rampaging brute all closed in, Windwalker flowed through them like smoke. His movements weren't just dodges—they were effortless, a seamless dance that weaved through every attack as if he already knew where they were coming from.
The pompadour guy's massive fist slammed forward, only to hit air as Windwalker sidestepped and twisted around him.
The fireballs exploded behind him, but Windwalker didn't even flinch. His footwork was too clean, avoiding every single one with fluid precision.
The big guy staggered from the explosion behind him but seemed unbothered. He growled.
"How the hell are you dodging everything?!"
Windwalker tilted his head, unimpressed. "What makes you think I'd explain my secrets to two guys who look like rejected extras from an '80s music video?"
Windwalker had been training in movement arts for a while now. His power gave him speed, but power wasn't enough. He needed skill. He had no defensive abilities, so dodging was everything.
And what better inspiration than something from his past life's media?
The Airbending Gates training from Avatar. A movement style designed to let someone move like the wind, slipping through attacks with grace and instinct, flowing through battle without resistance. He had adapted it to work with his Wind Sense, allowing him to predict movements.
At first, he needed to actively focus on it, but now?
It was second nature.
A second volley of bullets and fireballs came his way. The big guy swung again, but Windwalker barely acknowledged it, ducking low and weaving through the chaos like a falling leaf caught in a breeze.
Windwalker could fight them without even using Wind Draft.
He glided forward, closing the distance between him and the big guy. A quick jab to the ribs. A sharp wind-infused hook to the jaw. Then, just to be a jerk, he jumped up and landed a spinning roundhouse kick to the face.
The big guy grunted, stumbling back but still standing.
Windwalker smirked. "You're still up? Gotta say, I respect your durability. Too bad your brain doesn't have the same resistance."
Then—
VROOOOM!
A car engine roared, tires screeching as a vehicle was barreling straight toward them.
Windwalker acted instantly.
Using two Wind Drags at the same time, he yanked the driver out safely, tossing him aside, while the second grabbed the car itself
And slammed it straight into the big guy.
BOOM. The impact sent the pompadour man flying through the air before he crashed down hard, skidding across the pavement.
The rest of the gunmen stared in horror.
Windwalker turned his gaze toward them.
A gust of wind exploded outward.
All of them were slammed into the pavement with crushing force. Silence.
Now, only one man was left.
The skinny guy with the mohawk.
He was breathing heavily, but instead of fear, his face was twisted into a manic grin.
"Hehehe… HAHAHA! YOU THINK I'M BEATEN?!"
Windwalker raised an eyebrow. "I mean, yeah? It's kinda obvious."
The mohawk man lifted his hands, and suddenly, dozens of fireballs formed around him, hovering and spinning chaotically like a fiery storm.
"YOU'RE FINISHED! NOW, FACE MY HELLISH FURY!!"
With a dramatic gesture, he threw every single fireball at once.
Windwalker… sighed.
A single mighty wind gust blasted forward, catching every fireball and hurling them right back at the mohawk guy.
His eyes widened in horror.
"WAIT, NO—"
BOOM.
The resulting explosion engulfed him, launching him backward into a lamppost. He slumped forward, dazed and groaning.
Then, from behind—
A monstrous roar.
Windwalker turned, only to see the big guy still standing.
His clothes were torn, his face was bruised, and his teeth were bloody, but he was still standing. His chest heaved, his eyes burning with pure rage.
"YOU BASTARD… I'LL KILL YOU!!!"
Windwalker… tilted his head.
"Oh, you're still conscious? That's cute."
He stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "Alright, fine. I was done playing anyway."
He shifted his stance.
And he prepared to throw a real punch this time
The big guy charged, throwing a desperate punch—
Windwalker's fist rocketed forward.
BOOM.
The punch collided, slamming straight into the big guy's raised arm—but it didn't matter.
The force was so strong that his own arm smashed into his face, knocking his own teeth out as he was blasted backward, sent flying like a ragdoll.
He crashed hard, slamming straight into a billboard. The sign shattered on impact.
Silence.
Windwalker let out a breath. He glanced around at the pile of unconscious bodies around him.
All taken care of.
With that, he took off into the sky, leaving behind nothing but a gust of wind
Luke soared through the night sky, the city lights of New York twinkling beneath him like a sea of fireflies. The cool breeze rushed past his face, and for a moment, he simply enjoyed the flight, feeling weightless, unburdened.
Two years
Two years since he woke up in this world.
And honestly? Life had been great.
Night Studios: The Rising Titan
His gaming company, Night Studios, had turned into a massive success.
At first, it was just him and Henry, two kids trying to break into the industry with Hollow Knight. Then, after that insane success, they expanded fast.
Now? They weren't just making games—they were dominating the market.
They'd remade classics like:
• Resident Evil
• Dark Souls 1, 2, and 3
• Rocket League
And on top of that?
They developed their own original games—each one a masterpiece in its own right.
The result?
Two-time Game of the Year winners. Millions of copies sold. Hundreds of millions of dollars earned.
Luke smirked at the thought.
At this point, he was so filthy rich that he now lived in one of those ridiculous high-rise apartments where the entire floor belonged to him. It was unreal how much had changed.
But his life as Windwalker had been just as eventful.
At first, he mostly handled small-time criminals, the kind that made up the city's filth. Then, as time went on, real villains started showing up.
Not just petty thugs. Not just gang leaders.
Supervillains. small one but still supervillains
And their numbers were only increasing.
Within the past two years, Luke had:
• Taken down small-time villains forming alliances.
• Teamed up with Thor and Iron Man on two separate occasions to take down some serious threats.
• Noticed that more and more heroes were appearing. And villains.
The world was changing fast.
And Luke knew… it was only the beginning.
For the past year, he'd taken it easy.
He still trained, but only once every two days, just to stay sharp. He had been focusing more on his company and his hero work, rather than pushing himself past his limits.
But once actual Major villains start coming in, I will start my series training again
Back Home
Luke finally reached his apartment and landed smoothly on the rooftop. He stepped inside, the lights of the luxurious penthouse flickering on as he walked through.
He stretched, yawning.
Tomorrow was going to be busy.
So for now?
He just needed to get some sleep.
(MC image)
(the 10 chapters for my DC fanfiction will be released in my Patreon later i'm still working on them)