The last thing Alex Bayley remembered was the soothing glow of his TV screen as he mindlessly scrolled through his backlog of anime. His biggest concern had been whether to rewatch Hunter x Hunter or start a new series.

Then, darkness.

When he woke up again, everything was too loud, too bright, and he was crying uncontrollably. His body felt weak, small, and completely out of his control. It didn't take long for the horrifying realization to sink in.

He had been reborn.

At first, he thought it was some kind of weird isekai dream. But as time passed, as he heard the distinct names of places, Metropolis, Gotham, LexCorp, and saw Superman flashing on TV screens, one thing became crystal clear—

He was in the DC Universe.

The worst place to exist as a regular human.

For the first few years, Alex did the smart thing. He did nothing.

He didn't know if he had powers. He didn't know what kind of crazy cosmic bullsh*t existed in this version of DC. So he kept his head down, acted like a normal kid, and tried not to think about how at any moment, some alien invasion or magic apocalypse could kill him.

But then, on his fifth birthday, something weird happened.

His mother, Maria Bayley, had taken him to a toy store, letting him pick out anything he wanted. His father, John Bayley, a tired but kind factory worker, had saved up money just for this. It should have been a normal, peaceful day.

Then, a robbery happened.

A couple of thugs stormed in, waving guns, yelling, scaring everyone. Alex, still a five-year-old in body, felt that raw primal fear kick in. And then—

His body changed.

One second, he was a tiny, defenseless child. The next, he was Optimus Prime.

Not a kid-sized version. Not a cheap knockoff. The actual, full-sized, blaster-wielding, truck-transforming Prime.

The thugs barely had time to scream before Alex, panicked out of his mind, reflexively fired an energy blast into the ceiling, causing debris to fall and knocking them out cold.

Silence.

His mother fainted. His father just stared, slack-jawed.

And Alex? He immediately transformed back into a kid and played dumb.

"I-It wasn't me!" he stammered, pretending to cry. "The robot just showed up!"

His parents, bless their gullible hearts, actually bought it.

But Alex knew the truth. He had a power. And after some careful experimenting over the next year, he figured it out.

He could turn into any fictional character he had knowledge of.

Superheroes, anime characters, video game icons, anything. And he kept their abilities.

His first thought?

"I am absolutely never using this in public again."

With an OP ability like this, anyone else might have jumped at the chance to be a hero. To fight crime, to be the next Superman.

Not Alex.

He had read too many comics to fall for that trap. The moment you put on a costume, your life becomes hell. The Justice League, villains, the government—everyone would hound you non-stop. And even worse?

You become a target.

So Alex did the logical thing. He used his powers only for convenience.

Needed to ace a test? He'd transform into Reed Richards for a few minutes.

Too lazy to walk somewhere? He'd turn into The Flash just long enough to get there.

Needed to reach the top shelf? Yoda form, baby.

But no fighting crime, no drawing attention. He was NOT an idiot.

His plan was perfect.

…Until that happened.

Alex had spent ten peaceful years coasting by, living a simple, stress-free life. His parents were average, loving people. They weren't rich, they weren't special, but they were good. They worked hard, they cared about him, and even though Alex never really felt a deep emotional attachment, he appreciated them.

He loved them in his own way.

Then, one day, Lex Luthor had a bad idea.

A prototype battle drone, designed to counter Superman, malfunctioned. It went rogue. Right in the middle of Metropolis' shopping district.

And guess where Alex and his parents were that day?

The moment the attack began, people screamed and ran. The drone fired energy blasts, tearing through buildings. Cars exploded. Chaos erupted.

Alex, caught in the middle of it, froze.

He could have stopped it.

One transformation. That's all it would've taken. Turn into Saitama, Hulk, Goku—hell, even Megamind with a death ray—and it would've been over in seconds.

But he hesitated.

He was afraid.

By the time he snapped out of it, by the time he actually moved, his parents were already dead.

Crushed under a collapsed building.

And Alex? He felt… nothing.

Not at first. Not like in the movies, where grief hits immediately. He just stared at the rubble, at the blood-stained concrete, at the people wailing around him.

His mind was blank.

It wasn't until later, sitting alone in a cold, unfamiliar hospital, that it finally clicked.

They were gone. The people who had raised him, fed him, given him a home… were just gone.

And the worst part?

He could've saved them.

After the funeral, the social workers tried to talk to him. Tried to place him in foster care.

He barely listened.

He wasn't angry. He wasn't vowing revenge. He wasn't about to go full Batman and dedicate his life to justice.

But he did make one promise to himself.

Next time, I won't hesitate.

Not because of justice. Not because of responsibility.

Just because dying is inconvenient.

If he was going to survive in this world, he had to be ready. Even if he didn't want to be.

Even if all he really wanted… was to be left alone.