James didn't hesitate.
Rage carried him.
The moment he reached the basement door, it exploded outward under the force of his will—splintering into fragments as a wave of red energy tore through it.
He stepped into the house.
Silent.
Burning.
Focused.
He went straight for his uncle's room.
The door slammed open.
Both of them jolted awake.
For a brief moment, confusion filled his uncle's eyes—
Then fear.
But it was too late.
A sharp, concentrated blast of crimson energy shot forward from James's ring, piercing straight through his uncle's skull.
A dull thud followed as the body collapsed lifelessly onto the bed.
His wife screamed.
Or tried to.
A thin, razor-like construct flashed through the air—
And her head separated cleanly from her body.
Silence returned.
James stood there, staring at what he had done.
His first kills.
His stomach twisted violently—
And then he vomited.
But it wasn't normal vomit.
A thick, glowing red substance poured from his mouth, hissing as it hit the floor. It spread rapidly, eating through flesh, dissolving everything it touched until only bones and metal remained.
Then it ignited.
Flames burst to life.
Hungry.
Spreading.
Screams echoed from the hallway.
His cousins.
James turned slowly, a smile forming on his face—unnatural, wrong.
"Perfect," he muttered.
"Now I don't have to come to you."
They tried to run.
They didn't get far.
Crimson constructs shot forward, wrapping around their bodies like living ropes and dragging them back toward him.
They struggled.
Cried.
Begged.
But the moment they looked into his eyes—
They froze.
Not because of fear alone.
But because there was nothing human left in them.
"Jesus died for your sins…" James said calmly.
Furniture around them began to shift, splintering apart under invisible force. Pieces of wood reshaped themselves into long, jagged stakes.
"You?"
The stakes lifted into the air.
"You die for yours."
They were slammed against the wall.
Pinned.
Arms stretched outward.
Crucified.
Their screams filled the hallway as the stakes drove through their palms and feet, nailing them in place.
Blood ran down the wall.
The fire crept closer.
James tilted his head slightly, watching them.
"You could've been better," he said softly.
"But you chose not to be."
A pause.
A faint smile.
"I've become the devil."
He turned away.
"And I've come to collect."
He didn't stay to watch.
Their fate was already sealed.
Back in the basement, James moved quickly.
Comics.
Laptop.
Phone.
His documents—especially his birth certificate.
And the kittens.
They meowed softly as he gathered them, unaware of the horror unfolding above.
"Don't worry," he muttered. "You're coming with me."
Once everything was secured, he looked down at the ring.
Then—
He pulled it off.
Clarity hit him like a truck.
The rage vanished.
The weight of what he had done crashed into him all at once.
James staggered—
And threw up.
This time, it was normal.
Violent.
Endless.
"…What did I just do…?"
His voice trembled.
But only for a moment.
Because deep down—
He already knew.
He didn't have time to dwell on it.
He ran.
Out of the house.
Away from the flames.
Behind him—
An explosion tore through the building.
The gas line.
The entire house went up in flames.
James stopped just far enough away to watch.
For a brief second—
He smiled.
Then the sound of sirens snapped him back to reality.
Fire trucks.
Ambulances.
Police.
By the time they reached him, he was sitting on the ground, shaking, clutching the kittens close.
A victim.
A survivor.
Later, at the station—
"Mr. Willow," the detective began, voice steady but watchful. "Do you have any idea what caused the fire?"
James looked up at him, eyes red, face pale.
Perfect.
"I… I don't know," he said quietly. "They beat me… threw me in the basement. That's my room, by the way."
He let his voice crack slightly.
"I blacked out. When I woke up, everything hurt… my nose was broken…"
A pause.
"I just grabbed my stuff… the kittens… and tried to get out."
The detective watched him carefully.
"And the fire?"
James hesitated.
Then leaned forward slightly.
"I saw someone."
That got his attention.
"A shadow… heading out the back door. Toward the woods."
His hands tightened around the kittens.
"I was too scared to follow… then the house exploded."
Silence filled the room.
Then the detective sighed.
"…Alright, kid."
He stood up.
"We'll look into it."
He picked up the birth certificate.
"Smart thinking, bringing this. Makes things easier for us."
As the man left the room—
A small smirk tugged at James's lips.
"Thanks, detective."
Three Months Later
Life had never been this… quiet.
Or this good.
Three months after the "accident," James Willow was free.
No uncle.
No abuse.
No chains.
The inheritance from his parents finally reached him.
He used it wisely.
Bought the warehouse.
Renovated it.
Turned it into a home.
And beneath it—
A hidden vault.
Accessible only to him.
Where the real secrets were kept.
He sold the Alfa Romeo through the black market for a solid amount of money, then bought something normal—something that wouldn't draw attention.
Blending in mattered.
Now more than ever.
College came next.
A fresh start.
Familiar faces.
Friends.
Even a few former bullies.
But living alone…
Got lonely.
Fast.
So he invited a friend—and his girlfriend—to stay.
It helped.
At least on the surface.
Security, however, was a different matter.
Instead of systems…
He chose something better.
Creatures.
Gengars.
Weaviles.
Murkrows.
Twenty in total.
Paired.
One ghost.
One dark.
Each assigned to watch, patrol, and protect.
The first time he summoned a Gengar…
He almost died from fear.
The pressure.
The presence.
It felt like death itself was breathing down his neck.
Then it laughed.
Not like in the games.
Not harmless.
This one was darker. Slightly furred. Its grey-toned body and crystal-blue eyes made it feel… wrong.
Alive.
Too alive.
It took thirty minutes for it to calm him down.
Thirty minutes of a ghost apologizing.
The others weren't much better.
Dark-types brought a different feeling.
Not death.
But endless emptiness.
An abyss.
He got used to it.
Eventually.
The Experiment
Now—
James sat on the roof of his home, staring up at the night sky.
A bag rested beside him.
Inside—
Twelve yellow power rings.
One floated in front of him.
Responding to his thoughts.
Waiting.
"This could go wrong…" he muttered.
"Probably will."
A small smirk formed.
"But it's worth it."
He leaned back slightly, eyes fixed on the ring.
"Go."
The ring pulsed.
Then shot into the sky.
The others followed.
Twelve streaks of yellow light scattering across the world.
"Find people worthy of fear," he said quietly.
"Let them protect this world… from what's coming."
A pause.
"And find more life out there."
Four of the rings didn't stay on Earth.
They kept going.
Upward.
Into space.
James blinked.
"…Well."
A beat.
"Shit."
He watched them disappear into the stars.
Then shrugged.
"Future problem."
As he stood and headed back inside, another thought crossed his mind.
A dangerous one.
What if I let some of the Pokémon loose?
Not too many… just enough.
A grin spread across his face.
"Yeah…"
"That'll be interesting."
The next morning felt… normal.
James stood in the center of his underground vault.
Calling it a "basement" would've been an insult.
The structure stretched endlessly, reinforced by raw strength rather than human engineering. The work of his Timburr and Golurk had paid off—what stood beneath his home was massive. Easily large enough to fit three Airbus A380s side by side… and still have space left over.
It wasn't just storage.
It was a hoard.
James adjusted the notebook in his hand and exhaled slowly.
"…Let's see how much I've really gathered."
His voice echoed faintly through the vast chamber.
A small smirk followed.
"Guess I really am becoming a collector."
He stood at the start of a long corridor lined with reinforced shelves. This section housed the smaller—but far more dangerous—items.
Rings.
Rows and rows of them.
Each one glowing faintly with its own energy.
He began logging.
Green Rings – 60
Blue Rings – 60
Red Rings – 60
Yellow Rings – 60 (48 remaining)
Orange Rings – 60
Violet Rings – 60
He paused briefly at the yellow section.
"Yeah… that one's on me."
He flipped the page.
Pokémon – Complete set (2 of each species)
That one still felt surreal.
Further down—
Omnitrix Variants (Inactive):
Omniverse (5YL) – 1
Ben 23 – 1
Mad Ben – 1
Albedo's Recreated Ultimatrix – 1
Nega Ben – 1
Bad Ben – 1
Benzarro – 1
Ultimatrix (Prime) – 1
Alien Force Omnitrix – 1
Classic Omnitrix – 1(still in pod)
Biomnitrix – 1 pair
Ben 10,000 Omnitrix – 1
James let out a low whistle.
"Overkill… definitely overkill."
Next section—
Symbiotes (Contained):
Venom.
Anti-Venom.
Carnage.
Toxin.
Riot.
Scream.
Agony.
…and more.
Each one sealed in specialized containers.
Alive.
Waiting.
He moved on.
Lightsabers & Kyber Crystals:
Blue – 20
Green – 20
Red – 20
Sonic Assets:
Metal Sonic (inactive)
Main Sonic characters (contained in stasis—loyalty confirmed)
Chaos Emeralds (secured in radiation-grade containers)
Tech & Equipment:
J.A.R.V.I.S. flash drive
Mark 50 armor
Black Panther suit
Prowler suit
Captain America's shield
Web-shooters – 30 pairs
Radioactive spiders – 15
Vibranium – 20 pounds
Then came the more… dangerous section.
Anime / Mystic Items:
Death Note – 1
Gaara's sand gourds – 3
Ninjutsu scrolls – Complete
Seven Ninja Swords
Gedo Statue (sealed deep underground)
Zanpakutō (Ichigo's)
Five-leaf clover grimoire
And then—
Energy.
Actual energy systems extracted from fiction.
Chakra.
Condensed into tangible form.
Even the Tailed Beasts—reduced to raw, sealed masses of power.
All except Shukaku… who remained bound within a teapot.
James stared at the list.
"…Yeah."
A quiet breath.
"I could destroy the world."
And the worst part?
He didn't even need to try that hard.
He had even taken singular artifacts—
The Cup of Immortality.
The Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown.
Things that didn't belong in any world.
James closed the notebook.
For a moment, he just stood there.
Then chuckled.
"Watcher… God… whatever they call it."
A faint grin.
"I get it now."
A Small Push
Not destruction.
Not yet.
Just…
Influence.
He packed a box carefully.
Inside—
Spider-themed gear.
Web-shooters.
A stealth suit.
And at the very top—
A spider.
Alive.
Waiting.
He sealed the box, layered it with tape, and scribbled a short note.
Then picked up the portal gun.
A quick flick—
Green light split the air.
Japan.
A quiet, worn-down apartment hallway.
James stepped through, placed the box at a random door, rang the bell—
And vanished back through the portal before it closed.
"Let's see what happens."
Back Home
The moment he returned, a sharp caw echoed by his ear.
One of his Honchkrow.
Alert.
Visitors.
Two familiar presences.
And one new.
"…Already?"
James frowned.
No time.
He rushed to the Omnitrix storage and grabbed one.
Mad Ben's.
Reliable.
He slipped it onto his wrist and activated it with practiced precision. No hesitation. No fumbling.
The dial spun.
Stopped.
Ghostfreak.
A flash of orange light—
And he transformed.
A pale, spectral figure with a single glowing eye.
Silent.
Watching.
He phased through the structure effortlessly, rising upward through layers of concrete until he reached his room.
Then—
He reverted.
Perfect timing.
The door opened.
"James? You in here?" his roommate called.
James stepped out of the bathroom, stretching casually.
"Yeah, sorry. Didn't mean to make noise."
He held up his phone.
"Just messing with this simulator app."
His roommate—Steve—raised an eyebrow.
"Dude… you're too old for that."
James grinned.
"Nah. You're never too old to feel like a kid again."
A small pause.
"You should try it. Graphics are insane."
Steve chuckled, dropping his bag.
"Maybe later. Got work to do."
"Yeah…" James said softly.
"Later."
Elsewhere
Freddy Mentrout didn't believe in luck.
He believed in survival.
A psychology graduate turned interrogator.
A man who had learned how fear worked—not from books, but from screams.
He didn't enjoy it.
Not at first.
But over time—
He adapted.
Thrived.
That night, something changed.
He woke up suddenly.
Not from a sound.
But from a feeling.
Something was in his room.
A yellow ring floated at the foot of his bed.
Glowing.
Watching.
Freddy sat up slowly.
"…What the hell…?"
Then it spoke.
"Freddy Mentrout."
His blood ran cold.
"You have been chosen."
The voice wasn't loud.
But it filled the room.
Filled his head.
"You understand fear. You wield it. You shape it."
A pause.
"You are worthy."
Freddy stared at it.
Any normal person would've panicked.
Run.
Screamed.
He didn't.
He studied it.
Analyzed it.
Felt it.
And realized something important.
It wasn't lying.
Slowly, he extended his hand.
The ring responded instantly.
Sliding onto his finger like it had always belonged there.
Power flooded him.
Not painful.
Not violent.
Exhilarating.
A high unlike anything he had ever experienced.
Pure control.
Pure clarity.
Freddy exhaled slowly.
A grin spread across his face.
Dark.
Curious.
Hungry.
"…Now this…"
He flexed his fingers as faint yellow light flickered around him.
"…this is interesting."
One thought crossed his mind.
Clear.
Focused.
Dangerous.
Find the source.
Understand it.
Control it.
His smile widened.
"This is going to be fun."