The void trembles around me as the blue panel flickers to life, glowing with an otherworldly hue. For a brief moment, you feel as though the very fabric of reality is holding its breath. Then, with a faint chime, the interface responds.
[Ding, make three wishes]
With some hesitation, I wish for the first three things that come to mind.
[WISH 1: IMMORTAL WITCHER WITH ETERNAL YOUTH]
Processing...
GRANTED: You are now endowed with an ageless body with the strength and supernatural abilities of a Witcher. Your body no longer ages, and your vitality is unyielding. You are gifted with the enhanced senses, combat prowess, and resilience of a trained monster hunter. The curse of eternal youth grants you the ability to recover from any wound, no matter how severe, and your mind remains sharp across the ages.
[WISH 2: MULTIVERSAL GACHA]
Processing...
GRANTED: You are now the holder of a Multiversal Gacha, a limitless source of random, multiversal artifacts, powers, and companions from across countless dimensions. The gacha functions with system points accumulated by any phenomena experienced by the host, the gatcha will draw from infinite universes and timelines. Each pull could offer anything from powerful allies to legendary weapons and artifacts, rare abilities, or even entire realms to explore. But beware, the power you summon may come with its own consequences.
As the second wish completes, a dazzling, shifting holographic wheel materializes before you. It pulses with energy, offering you an array of untold possibilities.
[WISH 3: MOST LIKED COMMENT]
Waiting...
ON HOLD: The most liked comment will be transformed into the third wish.
[Ding, wishes confirmed. A random world will now be chosen.]
Processing...
SELECTED: The Marvel Universe is a vast and intricate fictional universe that spans comic books, movies, TV shows, video games, and other media. It is one of the most expansive and enduring fictional worlds in modern pop culture, featuring an enormous array of characters, teams, cosmic entities, and alternate realities. At its core, the Marvel Universe revolves around the stories of superheroes, supervillains, and ordinary people who interact with extraordinary forces.
With a gulp, I realize that this system does not like to waste time, unlike myself who has drifted aimlessly since graduating from high school, spending nearly all my twenties in dead-end nine-to-fives.
Why are my ears ringing? Like getting closer to a party with music full blast. The ringing got louder, and then my eyes rolled back.
Twitching my nose, I abruptly sit up and look around my surroundings. I immediately recognize that I am in the grimy, perpetually stinky alley of a city. Which city, you may ask? I have no idea. All I know is that I am in Marvel. But if I had to guess, it is probably New York, where every other main character wakes up in web novels.
The hum of the city drowns out the lingering ringing in my ears as I push myself to my feet, dusting off the back of my jeans. New York City—or whatever grimy urban sprawl this is—already feels familiar, even if I can't quite place how. The street is a cacophony of honking cars, shouting pedestrians, and the distant wail of sirens. It smells like a mix of hot dogs, garbage, and exhaust fumes—definitely a place where the line between being lost and just surviving gets pretty blurry.
I squint at the graffiti-splattered walls around me, my head still ringing. Honestly, the ringing is kind of distracting, and there's this odd sense of déjà vu as if I've had this exact moment before. Maybe not in this alley, but something like it. The kind of feeling that says, "You're a nobody, and you've always been one, but here's the trick: you don't have to stay that way."
I glance down at my reflection in a grimy storefront window. Huh. White hair and a sharper jawline highlight the significant impact of weight loss and dressing presentably. The leather jacket's got a nice fit to it. I don't remember buying it, but I'll take it. The black shirt's a little tight around the chest, which is new. Not that I'm complaining, but it's a bit of a departure from my usual drab, saggy t-shirts from high school. The boots are new not even scuffed, and they look durable. At least the mysterious smear on my backside isn't visible from the front.
I start walking toward the sidewalk, trying to shake off the ringing that still lingers in my head. It's not so much that I'm in a panic—more like a slow actualization of my situation.
I was walking through the crowded street when he suddenly bumped into me. A guy with a coffee cup, barely managing to keep his balance. Instinctively, I grabbed his shoulder with my right hand, steadying him before he could fall.
"Hey, watch where you're going!" he snapped, shooting me a glare, his voice harsh.
I didn't flinch, still holding onto him. My eyes locked with his, and something strange happened — without thinking, I caught the coffee that was free-falling from his cup with my left hand, bringing the cup back into place.
Before I could apologize, the aroma of the coffee hit me. My body moved on its own, and I found myself sipping from his cup while still staring straight into his eyes. The air shifted, as if time slowed down just for that moment. It was that feeling — the one you get when you know you've just done something wrong, something irreplaceable, something that can't be undone. And yet, he stood there, mouth slightly open, not quite sure how to react. He couldn't even get mad enough to lash out.
I smacked my lips. "Sorry," I muttered, my voice flat. I didn't blink, keeping my gaze fixed on him, perhaps a bit longer than was normal. There was a strange sense of power in that unblinking stare, like I had just crossed some invisible line and didn't care enough to look back.
I smacked my lips again, this time out of sheer thirst. I felt it then, undeniable need for more coffee, as though my body had demanded it. Without breaking eye contact, I unhurriedly drank the rest of his coffee, savoring the last few drops. When the cup was finally empty, I handed it back to him.
He stared at me in disbelief, mouth agape, as if waiting for an explanation. But there was none. I had nothing else to offer.
"Sorry," I repeated, my tone a bit more insincere than I intended.
He didn't seem to care. Instead, he muttered something under his breath, his face contorting into frustration. "You know what? Screw it." He grumbled about being late to work, something about my overweight mother, and shuffled away in a huff, still clutching the empty cup.
I watched him leave, almost feeling bad but not enough to stop me. I turned away and continued walking. The noise, the bustle, the chaos of the morning — it was just background noise now. It wasn't any different from my usual stroll, heading to my nine-to-five grind from before, except today there was something else beneath my skin. A strange sense of purpose, like my body had just nudged me in a direction I hadn't expected.
Maybe it was a sign. Maybe this was the fresh start I didn't know I needed.
Blinking a few times, I decide to continue walking until I find something to do, which in New York City would not take long if one actually tries.
I pass by a hot dog stand, and the smell triggers something— hunger, a need. It's nothing strange, but it feels strange somehow like I know I could eat 10 and still have room for more. The vendor, an older man with a thick foreign accent, hands me a dog without a word. I blink at him, confused for a moment, then reach into my pocket, finding it suspiciously full of a wad of cash. Guess I'm not broke.
"Thanks," I say handing the man a 5, more to myself than him.
So, what's next? Keep walking down the street and see where it leads? Or maybe there's something—or someone—I'm supposed to meet. After all, I'm in Marvel now. I could run into anybody or anything.
For now, I will get myself another coffee and then talk to someone about the current year.
The air inside the café is thick with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the quiet murmur of hushed conversations. Looking at the line I decide to just sit until the line goes down.
I glance around the café. It's a mix of people chatting over pastries, or lost in their own thoughts, just like me. But then, I feel it. That feeling. Like someone's eyes are on me. At first, I try to ignore it, but it's like a slow burn at the back of my neck, a presence that refuses to be brushed off.
With a small smirk, drawing out the anticipation. Let's see if they'll keep looking when I suddenly make eye contact.
Then, like a reflex, I snap my head in the direction of the gaze.
Sure enough, there's a girl, maybe in her mid-twenties, sitting a couple of tables away. As soon as my eyes meet hers, she freezes—just like that. Not even a second to react before she jerks her head away like she's been caught doing something naughty. Her cheeks flush slightly, and her eyes flick toward her cup. I can see the subtle rise of cold sweat forming on her forehead. A beat passes, then another. She's trying to act like nothing happened.
I raise an eyebrow, looking at her just long enough to make it clear I noticed her.
She looks away again, The interest in her gaze was undeniable I mean don't blame her I'd be just as memorized if I were her too I'm a pretty good look dude. I tilt my head slightly, watching her as she lifts her cup to her lips, all while trying to sneak another glance in my direction.
But when she does, her eyes widen, and I'm gone.
In a blink, I'm not in my seat anymore. I'm standing at her table, casually perched on the chair opposite hers, my fingers wrapped around the edge of her table, leaning just slightly forward. My eyes meet hers again, calm and steady. I don't speak. I just watch her, as her expression shifts from confused to downright startled.
Her mouth opens and she makes a tiny, strangled noise, a sharp gasp that can't quite contain her surprise.
"Huuuuhhhh!" she lets out, unable to process what just happened.
I can't help it. I smile.
She jerks back in her seat, eyes wide as she takes in the impossibility of what just happened. The moment stretches—an awkward beat—and I let it linger just long enough to make her feel that wave of uncertainty.
Then, I lean back in my chair and take another slow sip of my coffee, enjoying the sudden shift in energy, the flicker of confusion in her eyes. "Hey," I say casually, finally breaking the silence. "You wanted to talk, didn't you?"
Her eyes go wide, and for a second, she can't seem to form words. Finally, she stutters, "W-What the hell was that...?" She clears her throat, trying to regain composure. "Who... Whats your name?"
I tilt my head slightly, pondering the question. It feels almost like a riddle, something I should have an answer to, but don't so I make one up. "My name is Jaxon, smirking a little at the absurdity of it all.
She fidgets in her seat, trying to wrap her head around the situation, but she's clearly not prepared for whatever this is. She tries to brush off her shock, shifting in her seat, but there's an edge to her eyes now, a combination of curiosity and caution.
Hmmm... well I'm Kaycee
Before she can speak again, I take another long sip of my coffee, the hot liquid soothing my throat, and watch as she debates whether to engage or retreat. Eventually, her curiosity wins out.
"What do you want?" she asks, finally leaning forward, though still a little tense, like she's unsure if she should be afraid or intrigued.
I smile again, because I still don't have a damn clue myself. "I was thinking about asking you that."
Her eyes shift slightly, and she crosses her arms, Her body language clearly shifted to a more defensive posture. "You don't strike me as the type to play games," she says, half-doubtful, half-amused. "So what are you? Some kind of... magic trick?"
I let out a short laugh, leaning back in my chair. "No tricks. No magic." I take a moment, watching her carefully. "Just someone who's... suddenly awake. But it's not my choice, you know?"
Her expression flickers with confusion, like she's about to say something, but then her brow furrows deeper. "And that's supposed to make sense?"
I nod, my smile fading into something more serious. "In a world like this? Maybe not. But it's all I've got for now."
The quiet stretches again, as we both sit there, caught in this strange little moment of tension. And just as I think she's about to get up and leave I huurriedly ask another question, with a triuphent smirk she leans back and takes a long, sip of her coffee while maintaining eye contact, clearly trying to regain some control.
I'm not in a rush. I have all the time in the world.