Lusborn had just finished a long, exhausting day at work, riding his sleek black Kawasaki GPZ 900R back home.
The engine purred beneath him as he sped through the dimly lit streets, the cool night air brushing against his face.
It was already past 8 PM when he reached his house, a place nestled just beyond the city's chaos.
London had its charm, but Lusborn preferred the solitude and quiet that his more secluded home provided.
He might be a stuntman—the best alive, as many called him—but away from the roaring engines, explosions, and adrenaline-fueled scenes, he craved nothing more than peace.
Hollywood had been his playground for years. Fearless, brave, and skilled beyond measure, there was no stunt he couldn't do.
Even those deemed impossible by his peers, he executed with an almost reckless ease, solidifying his reputation as the best of the best.
Yet, despite his success, he wasn't happy. In truth, he hadn't been happy for a long time.
He had lost everything—his parents and little sister—just as he was beginning college. The tragedy had shattered him in ways he never spoke about.
He couldn't bear the weight of his grief, the endless nights haunted by their absence.
That was why he became a stuntman.
He didn't care for his own life.
Every dangerous stunt, every death-defying leap, every near-fatal crash—he had welcomed them all, hoping that one day, one of them would end him.
But no matter how risky, no matter how close he got to the edge, he always pulled through.
Surviving time and time again, he unwillingly became the greatest stuntman the world had ever known.
But it was moments like these—when he returned home to his quiet sanctuary, away from the bright lights and noise—that he cherished most.
After parking his bike in the garage, he stepped inside, the familiar silence wrapping around him like an old friend.
Kicking off his boots, he made his way to the fridge, pulling out a cold beer.
The soft hiss of the bottle cap being twisted off was the only sound in the stillness.
With a book in one hand and the beer in the other, he stepped out onto the balcony, seeking the comfort of his favorite chair.
The night air was crisp, the city lights in the distance twinkling like fallen stars.
The gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional distant honk of a car were the only reminders that life beyond his sanctuary continued.
He exhaled deeply, taking a sip of his beer before opening the book. The words drew him in, allowing him, even if just for a little while, to escape. But then—
A sharp, searing pain exploded through his stomach, like he had taken some kind of acid. Lusborn groans at the sudden pain, falling down from the chair to ground.
He curled on himself with his hands clutching his stomach in an attempt to stop the pain.
He couldn't help but wonder what the fuck was going o right now. Was he poisoned? Was it the beer? But who could do such a thing to him? And most importantly, why?
His thoughts started becoming hazy by the moment, his fingers becoming stiff for even small movements, paralysis?
His heart beat skyrocketed, probably trying to force blood to his now paralyzing body, however in doing so, it made it quicker for the poison to reach it quickly.
Lusborn could feel his breathe catching in his throat.
And it was at this time that he realized that he really still wanted to live. He might have felt bored, he might have felt lonely, he might have even convinced himself that he didn't care for his life, but that was all a lie.
He wanted to live, he wanted to have a family, he wanted to have a wife and a kid or two, he didn't want to die, not in a hundred years.
Now that he thought about it, could you become the best stuntman by hating yourself?
Of course not, you would have to train and train and train, something only people with determination could do.
He wasn't sure when he had started having this feeling of not caring about life, but now he knew.
He didn't want to die, not until he had a kid at least, he wanted to be a father, at least once.
He wanted to give a child out there the fatherly love, something he never got, to at least fell how it feels to be a parent.
But it was too late, he was already halfway to hell, cause there is no way on earth he was going to heaven, if it was there that is.
He could slowly feel his life going, his life flashing before his eyes, regrets filling his mind.
His vision blurred, the world spinning and darkening at the edges.
A strangled breath left his lips as a numbing sensation spread through him, his limbs growing heavy, his thoughts scattering like sand in the wind.
Darkness consumed him.
The last thing that flickered through his fading consciousness was a bitter realization—
'Damn life.'
.....
Lusborn drifted through the void, an endless abyss of nothingness stretching infinitely in every direction.
He felt weightless, suspended in a realm without sound, sight, or sensation.
He wondered if this was what death truly was—a silent, eternal drift in the unknown.
He wondered if really this was the end, but even then, after some time in this void, he couldn't even think anymore.
Time had lost all meaning—had it been seconds? Minutes? Years? He had no way of knowing. His mind was blank, his thoughts scattered, as though he were a mere echo of the man he used to be.
The void was swallowing him whole without him even knowing, not having even a will to fight.
Until a streak of light appeared in the void, fortunately or unfortunately, coincidentally or intended, no one knew, but it appeared just a few feet away from him.
Not that he had any mind left to even think.
However the appearance of this light seemed to stop the effect the void had on him, even somehow returning his ability to think.
But since he had spent sometime without thinking, he was just absurdly confused.
The next moment however, his ever floating "body" made contact with the light.
And what followed was darkness.
...
The moment he blacks out however, in the endless void, filled with nothing but darkness, where trillions of other souls also floated without direction, the moment Lusborn's soul made contact with the light, a voice sounded.
"Hmm? Interesting!" the voice sounded from everywhere, exuding endless regal power.
The light immediately disappeared without waiting for other souls, appearing in front of a ground toppling beauty lying in her bed lazily.
She looked at the soul curiously "To think she had a child, and hid him from me," she said scrutinizing the peculiar soul that was not at all like all the others.
Even after spending millions of years in the void, it was not in the slightest contaminated or affected, "Does she even know he's dead?" the lady continued.
But then she chuckled as if she had thought of something, "This will be interesting. Let's see how it goes, shall we?" she said as the light with the soul disappeared with a flick of her finger.
Standing up in her bathe suit, "I guess it's time I pay a visit to my beloved sister," she giggled to herself.
.....
Back to Lusborn, to him, it was just an instant as he saw the light and now, suddenly, pain assaulted his entire being.
A crushing, suffocating weight bore down on his chest, forcing the breath from his lungs. He gasped, the sensation foreign yet terrifyingly real.
His body screamed in agony as he tried to move, his instincts demanding he escape from whatever was pinning him down.
A sharp, searing pain lanced through his left arm as he attempted to push against the pressure, causing him to groan.
His senses began to flood back all at once—his ears ringing with the chaos around him, the scent of dust and blood thick in the air.
He forced his eyes open, but the world around him was blinding.
The transition from the darkness of the void to this overwhelming brightness made his vision blur and his head pound.
The cacophony of sounds crashed into him like a tidal wave—explosions, screams, the frantic shuffling of feet.
Glass shattered somewhere close, followed by another resounding boom that sent vibrations through the very ground he lay upon.
The world was in disarray.
As his vision finally adjusted, he saw the destruction surrounding him. He was buried beneath a pile of rubble, his chest crushed beneath a massive slab of concrete.
The jagged edges of broken walls loomed above him, smoke curling into the sky.
Fires raged in the distance, their flickering light illuminating the scene of devastation.
People ran, some covered in dust and blood, their faces twisted in terror as they fled an unseen horror.
Lusborn's breath came in ragged gasps, his body weak from blood loss. He shifted slightly, biting down hard as pain surged through his broken arm.
He tilted his head down and saw the mess of crimson pooling beneath him—his left arm was mangled, crushed beneath the weight of the debris.
His fingers twitched involuntarily, though he could barely feel them.
His mind reeled. What was this? What was happening?
He was sure he'd died from whatever he had drunk.
So why was he here, buried in the wreckage of a collapsing city? Was this Hell? A twisted afterlife where he was doomed to suffer endlessly? Or… something else?
Was this reincarnation? This was his first thought, after all, even when injured, he could tell this body was not his.
After all this body looked like it belonged to a nerd while his previous body was impressively muscular.
Was this another chance at life? But then again, why was he on the brink of death then?
Had he been given another chance at life, only to be snatched away before he could even take his first breath in this new existence?
Anger boiled within him, fierce and unrelenting.
All he saw was like a higher being playing with him like he was toy, something he resented a lot.
He hated the thought of his life being entertainment for some weird higher being or something.
After everything—after losing his family, after throwing himself into danger countless times, after realizing that he still wanted life but dying none the less—he was given another shot, only to be crushed before he could even stand?
It was unfair.
It was cruel. The universe had mocked him in life and was mocking him in death.
What was the meaning of this? Why was he given another chance only for it to be taken away? Why give him hope for it to be crushed again?
Or was this punishment in hell, a punishment through emotions?
His vision wavered, the edges of his sight growing hazy. His body was giving out.
Then—something changed.
A faint, glowing light flickered in his periphery. At first, he thought it was another explosion, another fire raging in the distance.
But no—this was different. This was right in front of him, hovering in his field of vision. It pulsed, shifting in shape, moving like liquid yet remaining as bright as a star.
[System Initializing....]
Seeing this, he couldn't help but feel like he really was being toyed with, his previous anger going up a notch, because now, he knew this was all shit.
They probably wanted to give him more hope only for it to be crushed once again, someone out there, was playing with him.
But then a small part of him, the part that wanted to survive more than anything, the part that wanted to believe that he at least had a chance, held onto that hope.
Hope that whatever was in the system could help him out of this situation.
He might be wrong and this was hell, or he might be some entertainment for some dude somewhere.
And no matter how angry that made him, he had neither the power nor an option to end it all.
He would just observe, if this was all real, then he would make sure to grow strong, if that was possible, to contend with whoever was messing with him now.
However if it turned out to be a sham, then he would end it himself.
[System Initializing....]
[The System is temporary and will just introduce the host to his powers...]
[Please pay attention]
[Name: Ethan Lusborn]
[Age: 27]
[Race: Human]
[Ability: X gene- Beast Transformation]
[Ability Description: The host can transform into any kind of creature or organism, gaining all its powers. The ability allows the transformation into any creature known or unknown in the "verse" so long as the host knows of it. This ability, however, does not allow transformation into a normal human.]
[Good luck to the Host….]
That was what appeared in Lusborn's sight—a system. Though temporary.
Now he couldn't help but wonder what kind of system that was—a temporary system?
He had read hundreds of novels, but he hadn't come across this kind of nonsense. What kind of lazy god created this anyway?
A system was supposed to be a guiding force, a permanent fixture to help him navigate his powers and potential.
But no, apparently, he had to figure things out himself with this fleeting tutorial.
Was this real, or a sham? His body just wanted him to let it go and end this, however his will to live and have a family told him otherwise.
So, immediately, he mentally shouted, "Woah woah woah wait there system, I gat quest..." but before he could even finish, the system interrupted him.
[The temporary host can transform into any organism that does not have human DNA or at least only some of it, or a human with some beast DNA. In other words a half human is allowed but not full human. However the human must have a beast DNA, not any other, to allow transformation.
The concept of what creature is known or unknown depends on the host. So long as the host acknowledges it, then transformation is possible.
Since some other realities have different kinds of humans, the concept of what is human and not for this ability is tied to this specific reality. Humans different from this reality will be allowed for transformation.
Now good luck...]
Lusborn was stumped, it was as if the system knew of what he was going to ask about before he even asked, which was weird but also not considering it was in his head.
Also, why did it seem to be in a hurry to run off?
However, he wasn't given time to think it through as life was draining away from him slowly but surely. He had already lost a lot of blood.
He was suffocating under the weight of the concrete pressing against his chest, and he didn't have the luxury of indulging in his irritation about the system.
According to the system, he could turn into anything.
It was a rather overpowered ability in itself with limitless possibilities, just limitless.
Even now as he was dying, he could already think of thousands of ways to use it. And if it was really as great as it seemed, then it seemed he really had another chance at life.
This ability could help him to immediately become a god if he wished, after all there were countless beings out there that could make humans literal gods.
And he could transform into them.
However, what was weird was that, the system talked about the verse, meaning the theory of the multiverse should be real.
At least it was still a theory in his previous life.
Then it also mention different realities, something that was considered fiction in his last life.
Meaning in this world however, it was real, after all the system would not give an ability that was out of line with the world.
At least most systems.
Then lastly, his ability was from the x-gene, something that is very specific from a certain story he could remember from his previous world.
If all of this was to be considered, then...
That brought him to think that maybe he had fallen to a certain world that he really didn't want to.
A world that he had even helped create as a stuntman before his death.
Though he couldn't dwell on it, after all he would really die from blood loss and and suffocation if things remained the way they were.
But since he apparently had the ability to transform, and he was most likely in Marvel world, a figure appeared in his mind immediately.
That meant he could transform into the Hulk right now and just blast his way out of the rubble.
This was a good choice since he would quickly heal with the Hulk's regenerative abilities and gain his ridiculous strength.
And since he was a stuntman for most of hulk's stunts in his previous life, then why not turn into the real one?
Since he had absolutely no idea in which world he had reincarnated in right now though, he would have to be careful.
He had read a lot of reincarnation stories in his free time and he knew things could be really ridiculous. After all he couldn't throw it out as just fiction.
Reincarnation itself was fiction, if it could happen, then maybe even these fictions were possible.
He might be in a normal world like his previous one, or an alternate reality same as his previous one but different, a cultivation world, or even some crazy universe like Marvel, DC, or even a novel world.
Though he had his marvel on Marvel.
After all, he had been a great follower of such concepts—the infinite multiverse and all that shit.
Anyway, since the system said he could become any creature he could think of, it meant even the creatures from movies, anime, novels, and myths were all possible.
Meaning the multiverse was as real as it could get so everything was a possibility.
Now it was time to survive.
Taking a breath—which, by the way, was nearly impossible with his crushed lungs—as he could feel his life slipping away.
So he immediately willed himself to transform into the Hulk.
Instantly, he felt a surge of energy coursing through his body, enveloping him from seemingly nowhere.
It was an overwhelming rush, like being filled with an infinite reservoir of power. He felt himself growing bigger and taller.
The concrete that had felt like an entire truck weighing down on him suddenly felt as light as a pillow.
Without thinking, he clenched his fist, which was by the way healing at a ridiculous speed, and punched it aside.
The sheer force sent the debris flying in all directions, breaking apart as though it were nothing more than brittle clay.
And he wasn't even halfway through the transformation yet. The power he gained was incredible, exhilarating.
But then—
A sudden burst of unbearable pain shot through his entire body. His muscles stretched past their limits, his bones groaned in agony, and it felt as if his skin was being ripped apart.
His body felt like a balloon about to pop, too much power forced into a vessel too weak to contain it.
It was like being filled to the brim with raw energy, but his body wasn't built to handle it.
The pain was unbearable.
With a strangled cry, he immediately removed the transformation.
He collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air. His skin had developed deep, painful cracks that oozed blood. Every inch of his body ached, his muscles twitching in agony.
He had absolutely no idea that something like this would happen, the system hadn't stated any limitations so he took it that there were none.
Actually he would have turned into something really more god like, the only reason he didn't was because he wanted to be cautious.
He wasn't sure if he was in Marvel world, but if he was, then it was absolutely not a good idea to transform into anything god like.
Or he would be struck dead before he even knew it because of changing the order of things or something, that was the only thing that saved him.
Because for him, he had thought the ability had no limitations. And he leaned the hard way that it did.
He had pushed himself too far. His transformation ability was powerful, yes, but his current body simply wasn't strong enough to withstand something as immense as the Hulk.
Though at least he was no longer buried under the rubble.
But then a question plagued his mind, why the hell wouldn't he be able to transform the hulk when Barner, a weak human, could.
However the answer just came to him before he could ask much as a sudden exhaustion enveloped him.
It was as if he had run a marathon for a month without stopping.
That is when he knew that his ability used his stamina as fuel, and the stronger the transformation, the faster his stamina is used.
After all Barner had hulk as a mutation, hulk was him and he was hulk, while Lusborn on the other hand had to use his x-gene to replicated the hulk.
But he couldn't be so sure. To be honest, he had just gained this ability and couldn't really make conclusions.
Perhaps it's not about mutation vs. replication but about control.
Maybe Lusborn, lacking Banner's experience and control over the Hulk persona, is overwhelmed by the raw power.
Perhaps the transformation requires a specific mental state or trigger that Lusborn doesn't possess.
There could be a million reasons.
But at least right now, he was sure that this ability was not a sham, he was now sure that he had really gotten a second chance.
And he wasn't going to waste it like the last one. Not again.
Lying on the cold, broken concrete, Lusborn finally had a chance to assess his surroundings.
The sounds of destruction filled his ears—loud resounding booms, glass shattering, people screaming in panic.
The unmistakable sound of rushing footsteps filled the air, people running for their lives.
And then he saw them.
Towering metallic figures clashed in the distance, their bodies gleaming under the moonlight.
Giant robots.
They weren't really that giant, but he could at least exaggerate a bit, right?
Firing at each other, demolishing the building as if it was made of paper.
Explosions erupted everywhere, sending shockwaves that rattled the ground.
What kind of world had he been thrown into?
His body was broken, exhausted. His left arm was still mangled, barely usable, and although it had healed a bit, it wasn't enough.
Blood still dripped from his wounds, and he could feel himself getting colder from blood loss.
He was weak. Too weak. All he wanted was to just forget about everything and just take a nap. But he couldn't do that.
And he couldn't stay here either.
Because the battle between those monstrous robots was getting closer.
One misstep, one stray blast, and he was done for. He needed to move. Now.
But the question was—how the hell was he going to escape?
Lusborn gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay conscious despite the waves of pain surging through his body.
He could feel the remnants of the destructive power of Hulk still wrecking his body.
His body simply couldn't handle such an overwhelming transformation yet, and he had nearly paid the price for it.
But he wasn't done yet. He couldn't be. If he stayed here, he was as good as dead.
He needed another option. Something that could heal him and get rid of his exhaustion.
Something that could give him the strength and speed he needed to get out of here.
His mind raced, sifting through every possible creature he could think of that had regenerative abilities, but also wouldn't destroy his body in the process.
He had power—he now knew it—but wielding it recklessly would only lead to his demise.
Vampires.
That was the first thing that came to mind. Yes, vampires, there might be like other millions of better options, but this was all that came to his head.
They had everything he needed: supernatural healing for his injuries and exhaustion, incredible speed, and immense strength for escape.
But there was a catch. Not all vampires were the same.
If he chose something too powerful, like a True Ancestor from certain mythologies, or like Dracular or something, his body would likely rip itself apart.
He needed something manageable. Something that wouldn't kill him before he could even take a step.
Three options came to mind, but he discarded two almost immediately.
The classic folklore vampires, while useful, weren't exactly practical in this kind of situation, they would be too weak against these robots.
And the vampires from some supernatural series were too overpowered for his body to handle in its current state. That left one last option: the vampires of Marvel.
Marvel's vampires were, by normal standards, weak compared to other supernatural creatures, but that was exactly what he needed right now.
They were strong, sure, but not impossibly so.
The real benefit, however, was their healing factor—it was fast enough to save him as he fought on, and that was something he needed right now.
However, he had his favorite, and though with a reduced healing power, who said he cant just transform into a version that has a better healing power.
His powers can help him transform into anything he knew. So as long as he 'knew' it, it was possible.
One name that balanced everything he needed at this moment and a bit more.
Morbius.
And so without hesitation, Lusborn made his choice. He willed himself to transform, bracing for the change.
...
Pliz dear readers, this kind of ability I gave him has lots and lots of shit that he can use to grow stronger.
And obviously I cant think of all of them, I might even think of some stupid shit so, that's why I will need yo help.
I need ideas from you guys, I have already received some and it has really enlightened me, so, it would be better if I received more.
Thanx.
....
Also pliz support my other works, I need help with that too. Still new in this thing so.... will need u guys.