I'm standing here, watching the whole thing unfold, and I can feel it in my gut. I knew this would happen. I mean, I knew. But even so, I didn't want to believe it. I thought—hoped, even—that we'd find a way out of it. Guess not.
Thanos stands there, unmoving, his expression infuriatingly smug, like he holds some secret we're all too blind to see. The Infinity Gauntlet hums with raw, terrifying energy, the stones pulsing like a heartbeat, like they're alive. And I feel it, deep in my bones—something big is about to happen.
"Don't do it, you overgrown grape," I mutter under my breath, arms crossed, trying to suppress the gnawing dread clawing at my chest. I swear, if he even thinks about snapping those fingers—
And then he does it.
The sound cuts through everything. A single, sharp snap. It's so sudden, so absolute, that for a moment, my brain refuses to process it. The noise lingers, stretching across the battlefield like a death sentence.
I brace myself, already expecting the worst. Any second now, people will start crumbling into dust. I scan the faces around me, waiting for that gut-wrenching moment where they just—disappear. But… nothing happens.
The world holds its breath. The air is heavy, thick, pressing in like an unseen weight.
But no one turns to dust.
My heartbeat stutters. This isn't right. This isn't how it was supposed to go. My gaze flicks across the battlefield again, searching for some sign of the devastation I know should be happening. But instead, there's only silence—an eerie, unnatural quiet. It's as if the universe itself has stalled, caught in a moment that shouldn't exist.
Then, a sting. Sharp and sudden, like a burning needle dragging across my skin.
I flinch, jerking my hand back as the pain intensifies. And that's when I see it.
A red mark.
It spreads across the back of my hand, curling and twisting in intricate, unnatural patterns, like ink bleeding into paper. My stomach drops. I know what this is.
I rub at it, desperate to wipe it away, but it doesn't smudge. It doesn't budge. It's not just a tattoo. It's something worse. Something far worse.
A chill runs down my spine, and the realization slams into me with the force of a collapsing star.
This wasn't Thanos. This wasn't the snap. This was something else entirely.
My fingers tremble as I take a shaky breath, my mind racing to connect the pieces. And then, it clicks. A single name surfaces in my thoughts, unwanted but undeniable. The one name that could explain this absurd, ridiculous, bullshit situation.
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, filled with all the disbelief, frustration, and sheer exhaustion I feel in this moment.
"F& you, Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg."**
Because, of course. Of course it's him. Who else in the entire damn multiverse would think pulling a stunt like this was funny?
And I already know—this is only the beginning.
.......................
Now, you might be wondering how I got here.
Well, let me tell you—when Zelretch decides to yeet you into "new worlds" in the name of gaining experience, things tend to spiral out of control. Fast.
Take my current situation, for example. Getting thrown into another world wasn't enough. Oh no, that'd be too simple. Instead, I wake up to find out that I'm now stuck in my ten-year-old body again. Because apparently, suffering builds character.
And if that wasn't bad enough? There's a goddamn portal tearing open in the sky, vomiting out an entire alien invasion onto New York City.
Yeah. That's right. Aliens. Chitauri, to be exact.
And I know exactly what this world is. Because, before throwing me headfirst into it, my magecraft teacher—also known as the Master of the Second True Magic— decided it would be hilarious to make me binge-watch the entire MCU movie series.
And once I had enough context? He shoved me through a door that dropped me straight into the Battle of New York.
Right in the heart of the chaos.
Because why not?