Allen returned to his world and noticed that only twenty minutes had passed, precisely the same time he had spent on the other side. That means time is synchronized.
Allen sat on his couch, rubbing his face with both hands. Deciding Bruce Wayne's future was the toughest decision he had ever made in his life. His actions could have eliminated Batman from that world, no, it's almost certain that Bruce won't be Batman in that universe.
Using the Men in Black's Neuralyzer, Allen could have ensured that Bruce continued to be Batman... But no, that won't happen...
Bruce's trauma and pain are what drive him to become such a powerful and dangerous superhero. It's what makes him distrust even his allies. It's Bruce's instinct that sometimes allows him to see what no one else can. It's dangerous, yes, but it's a necessary evil for Batman to be Batman. Even if Allen convinces him to be Batman with the Neuralyzer, he might end up dead, and that's something that would weigh on Allen's conscience.
For Allen to force Bruce Wayne to be Batman is worse than letting his parents die. Aware of that, Allen didn't even think of doing something like that.
Even knowing all this, Allen is fine; he doesn't regret it. Allen knows that if he had let that boy's parents die or brainwashed the boy, he would have lost something important as a person. He wouldn't be Allen anymore.
Allen lay on the couch and, after giving it much thought, always concluded that it was the best decision. Perhaps not for that universe, but for himself and Bruce.
...
[Host, why not finish opening the remaining chests to change the mood?]
"There won't be anything worthwhile," Allen said, covering his eyes, trying to forget about it.
[You lose nothing by finding out.]
Allen shook his head but ended up opening the system's interface. On the interface, there was a gacha icon; upon entering, he was greeted by seven gray chests on the screen.
Allen thought for a moment and was encouraged to open them. In the end, anything is good if it's free. Besides, it's not like these are his last golden tickets in life, or the gacha will disappear.
[Host, wait...]
"System?"
Immediately, the screen lit up, and a chest appeared in front of Allen on the tea table.
"This is worse, and a manipulative way to rent people out. Who designed the gacha function?" Allen smiled, squinting.
The appearance of a real chest raised expectations but also disappointment if nothing was satisfying inside.
[Have a little trust; perhaps there's something good.]
Allen raised an eyebrow. "You seem interested, system. Don't you know what's hidden inside the chests?"
[No, as secondary programs to me, I don't know what the shop and the gacha are hiding.]
"Mmm," Allen thought it was strange, but most likely, it's because the system is currently very limited.
Allen opened the chest and was covered by a faint gray light, then he opened his eyes to see something in his hand.
[Sharp Kitchen Knife: It's a... sharp knife... not good... next one.]
Allen didn't say anything, and another chest appeared in front of him. Allen placed the knife by his side and opened the next chest.
[Standing Lamp: It's just a lamp... *cough*]
"Hahaha."
Allen laughed because, unlike the system, his expectations were zero, so he wasn't disappointed. The gray-grade quality was the lowest of the gacha, and this gacha had not been upgraded even once. Perhaps if Allen used the destiny fragments in the gacha, even the gray chests might have some value.
Allen proceeded to open the remaining five chests from the system screen.
[Gas Mask...]
[One-week Emergency Rations]
[Survival Knife]
[Military Pants... without extra protection]
[Death Note... it's a replica and without special features]
..." Allen said nothing and left the items on the tea table, then he got up and went to his RGB room.
The system was silent for the next half-hour.
...
Allen wasn't disappointed; he could predict that result. Plus, putting it in perspective, they were new items and without the least expense. Currently, Allen is short on money, and the rations wouldn't go amiss.
Speaking of money, Allen made five thousand credits from the broadcast of his fight against Flash; these five thousand were due to having more than a thousand viewers and the time they spent.
The program that takes care of the views and counts the numbers doesn't consider whether the viewers enjoyed the content or not.
Allen looked at the video he made of his fight with Flash. It had accumulated over a hundred thousand views, which was triple what he usually gets.
But as expected, the comments all said it was staged and that the title was clickbait.
Clickbait is a term used to describe the act of deceiving people with false and misleading titles that aim to get them to watch the video.
Allen wasn't going to correct them; instead, he went to his channel's studio, where the videos are edited, and the metrics are displayed.
[I linked your channel to the system; you won't receive ad money anymore, but the system will take care of paying you.]
Allen knows that from now on, each view of his channel will be the time that the system crystallizes into credits.
Allen also checked his personal information, and indeed, his name, address, and other information had been changed to false ones.
Allen stopped worrying about that and got up to go see Mary Jane, who was still asleep. Well, she must have been tired after last night.
...
MJ slept soundly on Allen's bed, hugging a cushion. Allen decided to give the beautiful red-haired sleeper more time to wake up and left without making noise.
After that, Allen felt like checking the Rozen Maiden and went to his treasure room.
The treasure room has shelves on both the right and left, filled with comics and manga. But the important part was the shelves on the walls, where several sealed comics and figures were placed and protected by glass. You don't need to be knowledgeable in this subject to understand that they are valuable.
Allen isn't passionate about comics and figures at this level. It's regrettable to say that Allen started collecting as an investment many years ago. Over time, many things he bought increased in value, some more than others; overall, his collection is worth twenty times what he originally spent.
Allen looked with regret at the box; inside was the first Rozen Maiden. He didn't want to buy it, but he ended up accepting it.
Allen sighed and examined the box; it was a sealed wooden box. Allen went to his storeroom for a hammer and a tarp that he used under the box to prevent any splinters from falling to the floor.
Allen removed the nails from the lid and took it off, finding a black coffin inside, held in the middle of the box with several cord supports. Allen cut the cords and lowered the coffin.
"It's as big as a person but not as heavy," Allen was surprised by this but understood that it was logical. Allen felt that people must think he was some kind of degenerate for spending so much money on this.
There are a hundred adult dolls, each customized to have every possible detail, with a price of around fifteen thousand dollars each, totaling one and a half million, but he had already paid a third.
"How can this happen to me?!" Allen yelled annoyed but with no other option, he decided to accept the reality. Shortly after, Allen was confused to see the coffin quite well. "Are they 1:1 scale?"
Leaving the coffin on the floor, Allen opened the lid, to be surprised.
"Impossible!" Allen gasped to see the supposed doll.
In the embrace of the night, a scene of dark beauty unfolds. There, in the lap of shadows, lies Wednesday Addams, the embodiment of melancholy, dressed in a black dress that embraces her figure.
She's ethereal; her dress clings to her pale skin like marble, as if it were stitched with threads. The contrast between the dress's blackness and the paleness of her complexion is mesmerizing. Even in the daytime, it's as if the light has lost its brightness upon opening her coffin. Her dark hair cascades over the velvet cushion. Her face appears in a deep sleep, carrying a serene expression.
Wednesday sleeps like a sleeping beauty; no one would think she's a doll, not a person. If you carefully look at her cherry lips, it seems as though they might open and speak at any moment.
"Rozen Maiden... they exceed what I expected... and then I wonder, what were they thinking when making a doll of this quality?!... No, did they kill the girl, and is this a corpse?" Allen immediately shook his head, denying such a possibility. He doesn't live in DC; his world isn't that dark, right?
Allen reached out towards Wednesday and felt the softness of her cheeks. At this moment, if someone told Allen the doll was a real person, he would believe it, if not for her coldness, he would have called the police.
Is it a doll?
Logically, achieving this with current technology is impossible. Allen has seen these dolls in images and videos, and they shouldn't look so perfect and realistic. Even the most hyper-realistic dolls on the current market are still easily identifiable as "dolls."
"This is Wednesday Addams in every sense of the word." Allen stepped back, trying to regain his senses, covering his face.
After a moment, Allen looked back at the beautiful and dangerous Wednesday Addams and felt a wave of inconsistency.
After finding out they weren't going to refund him, Allen investigated the company and its products.
The Rozen dolls are incredible; even he can't help but admire their level of detail.
Allen's eyes fixated on Wednesday once again. "But this isn't their doing... it can't be."
Allen left the room and went to his PC, quickly searched for the Rozen Maiden page, but didn't find it. He took out his phone and called, but no one answered. Allen felt strange as if someone had played a prank on him.
"System, do you know what's happening?" Allen asked, running out of ideas.
[This has nothing to do with the system if you're wondering. It seems that even if I hadn't appeared, your life wouldn't have been normal, host.]
Aiden remembered there was a note on the coffin lid, but he hadn't paid attention to it and returned to the room once more.
Upon opening the door, Allen was shocked. In the middle was the same coffin as before, but empty. Many things ran through Allen's mind, but his first impulse was to worry.
"MJ!" Allen felt chills, and his first action was to run to the room where Mary Jane was.
"From a human point of view, you're admirable. From an objective point of view, you're predictable." The cold and raw voice of a girl came from behind Allen, who turned only to see a knife headed towards him. Time slowed for Allen as death approached, and then he saw Wednesday standing, beautiful and macabre, gazing at him with cold but curious eyes. "When facing an unknown enemy, make sure not to be taken by surprise, Allen Walker."
[Host!]
Allen smiled, hearing the system raise its voice for the first time.
...
In a Stark Industries building, a middle-aged man was playing with a tablet.
He's Tony Stark. His life changed a few years ago when he almost died due to terrorists. The irony and his sin were that it was his weapons they used to almost kill him.
Tony Stark used to run the world's leading arms company but left that behind and now dedicates himself to other things. He created an armor, called himself Ironman, and fights villains.
What a career change!
"Jarvis, tell me, do we have more thieves or killers today?" Tony asked as he poured a drink at the minibar.
"Sir, I recommend you leave this superhero hobby or at least remain sober while doing it."
"And I recommend you don't tell a person who can accidentally spill a glass of water into your server what to do," Tony replied, mocking.
Shortly after, Jarvis, Tony Stark's artificial intelligence, spoke again. "Mr. Stark, Miss Romanoff has come to recruit you again. Shall I open the door?"
"It depends, is she wearing a negligee?"
"No, she's in office attire, sir. The last time you made a joke like that, she kicked you in your lower region."
Tony instinctively grabbed his crotch. "Tsk, don't remind me, Jarvis. Is it too much to ask for a recruiter who'd like to have a glass of wine with me?"
"Sorry, Mr. Stark, I'm a family woman."
Natasha Romanoff entered Tony's office as if nothing.
She's a beautiful woman by any standard, her scarlet hair falls naturally, she has an incredible figure, and she has a natural charm that makes men drool. It's no wonder that even though Tony knows she's dangerous, he'll try to seduce her a couple of times, though without results.
"Jarvis?" Tony asked, puzzled.
"Sir, I detect an intruder," Jarvis said, seemingly joking.
"Yes, I know, I'm seeing her!"
Natasha sighed as she crossed her arms. "Stark, you know Fury won't leave you alone until you at least listen about the Avengers initiative."
Tony poured an extra drink and walked towards Natasha. "Yes, and I said I'd think about it if you agreed to go out on a date with me, Miss Romanoff." Tony offered Natasha a drink, but she didn't even pay attention.
"Okay, we won't see each other," Natasha shook her head, turned, and was about to leave.
"Is it a man, right?" Tony said playfully.
"Why do you think that?" Natasha asked, glancing back.
"Because no woman has rejected me three times; I'm handsome, rich, a genius, eloquent, and gentlemanly... most of the time," Tony stated shamelessly.
Natasha chuckled, "Hehe, Mr. Stark, I'm on vacation. I won't bother you for the rest of the year." She paused and continued, "But yes, I have a man waiting for me, and I can't be unfaithful."
"Tsk..." Tony stood still as he watched the sexy woman leave, then opened an application and watched a young man talking. "I'm still richer and smarter."
"Don't worry, according to my research, young Walker isn't a pervert like you, so you still have a chance."
"Are you implying that just because Allen doesn't make a move on his aunt, I have a chance?" Tony seemed to have swallowed an insect while talking.
"Sir, I'm sorry to say that in other aspects beyond the economic and academic, young Walker is superior."
"Damn, next time I'll make your stream last a month; "Let's see if he's still attractive with panda eyes and old man skin due to lack of sleep."
"Sir, are you jealous of an eighteen-year-old?"
"No, of course not! Do I seem jealous of a handsome kid?!" grumbled Tony.
"It's curious, but you didn't seem interested in Natasha Romanoff the first time you saw her. It was only when she rejected you that you showed interest."
"Jarvis, stop analyzing me, and yes, I suppose it's more a matter of stupid pride." Tony approached the window and looked out over the city. "But that's how stupid men are, right?"
"..."
"Bah, you wouldn't understand," said Tony, and went to sit on a couch. He then opened an application and watched a high-quality special effects video. "What have you gotten yourself into, Allen?"