The sky of Afghanistan was particularly clear that day, its vast blue expanse stretching endlessly without a single cloud in sight. Yet, in an instant, the tranquility shattered.
Without warning, a black line streaked across the sky. At first, it was thin—almost imperceptible—but then it began to branch out, spreading like the cracks of a broken mirror. It started as a single fracture but soon expanded, splitting into countless jagged lines that stretched in every direction. The heavens themselves seemed to be breaking apart.
And then, something even more impossible occurred.
Like shards of a shattered mirror, pieces of reality itself began to fall away. But it was not glass that rained down from the sky—it was existence itself, fragmenting and vanishing into nothingness. The cracks widened, and deepened, until a gaping void loomed in the sky, an abyss of absolute darkness. This void was so pitch-black that it devoured all the light around it, warping the very fabric of the world.
Then, from within the abyss, a figure was thrown out.
A teenage boy was ejected from the void as if spat out by the universe itself. His body shot downward at an unimaginable speed, plummeting like a meteor, and gaining velocity at an alarming rate. The atmosphere burned around him as he fell, his descent nearly indistinguishable from a bullet fired from a gun. No—his speed surpassed even that.
Below him, a vast, rocky mountain range stretched across the land. Scattered among the rugged terrain were numerous camps, their tents, and structures clustered around a central base. It was a place of war, a place of violence.
And at that moment, death itself descended upon it.
The boy's body tore through a massive rock formation with such speed that the stone did not even have time to fracture. A clean, human-sized hole was carved straight through the rock, leaving behind no debris, no cracks—nothing but an eerie tunnel of destruction. He continued to plummet, the ground rushing up to meet him.
If he struck the earth at this velocity, the sheer force of impact would be catastrophic. The energy released would not just level the camps—it would wipe out all of Asia, if not the entire planet. A collision at such speeds, approaching the limits of light itself, should have resulted in an explosion beyond human comprehension.
And yet—
Just before he could crash into the ground, his eyes fluttered open.
At that moment, his mind had not yet grasped the situation. He did not understand where he was or what was happening. But his body—his instincts—reacted instantly.
Like a bird suddenly halting mid-flight, his descent came to an abrupt stop, just three feet above the ground. The sheer impossibility of it defied every law of physics. There was no shockwave, no explosion—no sign that he had ever been moving at such terrifying speeds. It was as if all the energy from his fall had simply vanished into thin air, erased without a trace.
Suspended in midair, the boy slowly lowered himself to the ground.
His feet touched the dirt, firm and steady. He blinked, as though waking from a long, deep sleep. His hand instinctively came up to shield his eyes, expecting the morning light after a long night of slumber.
And then, memory surged back into him.
He was not in his bed. He was not in the world, he had just left that got forsaken land.
He had returned.
His gaze swept across his surroundings, searching desperately for something—anything—that might confirm his suspicions. His chest rose and fell with anticipation. Then, his eyes locked on a middle-aged man standing nearby.
The man was staring at him, his expression frozen in shock. His hands trembled, gripping a hammer that had been raised mid-swing as if he had been working on something only to be interrupted by an impossibility. His disheveled appearance—unwashed hair, an unkempt beard, clothes tattered like those of a beggar—spoke of hardship and exhaustion. His bloodshot eyes revealed sleepless nights, filled with either endless labor or ceaseless torment.
But it was not the man's appearance that truly caught the boy's attention.
It was the glowing blue orb embedded in his chest.
A device pulsed faintly with light, casting an eerie glow in the dim cave. That technology, that unmistakable sight—
It was him.
A slow, creeping realization settled in the boy's mind. That face. That arc reactor. He had seen them before.
Tony Stark.
The genius, the billionaire, the man who would one day become Iron Man.
A sharp exhale escaped the boy's lips. The tension in his shoulders eased, and the wild beating of his heart slowed to a steady rhythm.
He had been right. He was home.
A grin stretched across his face, one filled with exhilaration and relief. He could not hold it back.
"I'm back, baby!"
His voice echoed through the cave, loud and full of triumph.
Then, as if by second nature, he called out within his mind:
System, show me my status window.
A translucent screen materialized before him, its glowing text appearing before his eyes without casting a shadow even to his blue eyes.
[Status Window]
Name: Eric William
World of Origin: Marvel 616
Traveled World: Solo Leveling
Energy Level: 2C [Multiversal]
Intelligence: Gifted
Current World: Marvel 616
Inventory: Exchange Card x2
Charging Time: 5 months
His smile widened.
Everything was as it should be.
[Here Sun jinn woo power would be from the novel, so mc power is stronger than the manhwa and anime.]