Chapter 1: Second Chance in a Broken World
Darkness. Endless and suffocating.
Then—
Breathe.
Air flooded his lungs like a tidal wave. He gasped violently, coughing as his eyes snapped open. His body convulsed against the cold sheets beneath him, his heart hammering like a drum. The ceiling above him spun slightly—an old fan squeaking overhead, throwing pale sunlight across peeling wallpaper and cracked paint.
He sat up, disoriented. His body felt wrong. Taller, leaner… older?
His hands trembled as he brought them into view. Calloused fingers. Long arms. A faded scar on the underside of his right wrist.
He stumbled out of bed, nearly collapsing as unfamiliar muscles screamed in protest. He moved like a man learning to walk again. His gaze darted around the small apartment: plain, cluttered, but lived-in. A single duffel bag in the corner. A coat slung over a dusty chair. A picture frame facedown on the nightstand.
"I'm… alive?" he whispered, his voice hoarse and deeper than it should've been.
No answer came—except a ding, like a notification echoing inside his skull.
> [System Initialization Complete]
Welcome, User.
World: Marvel Universe (Post-Battle of New York)
Host Rebirth Status: Stable
Basic System Online – [Stats] [Quests] [Inventory]
He froze. "System?" he said aloud, voice shaking.
> [Yes.]
> A simple interface has been granted. Further functions will unlock with progression.
> [Note: Host memory integration currently in progress (3%). Side effects: Confusion, emotional dissonance, partial memory bleed.]
Suddenly, he stumbled again. A flash—not a memory, more like a sensation. A man screaming on a rainy street. A woman's hand slipping from his. Cold metal. A funeral. Then—nothing.
He clutched the sink, staring into the cracked mirror. The face looking back at him wasn't his.
Whoever this man was, he was gone now.
And yet… something lingered. Echoes. A sadness rooted deep in the soul of this body.
The man pressed a hand to his chest.
"I don't know who you were," he whispered to the reflection. "But I'll find out. I swear it."
The TV behind him flickered to life with static. The channel was set to the news.
"…Stark Tower remains under reconstruction following the unprecedented alien attack last month. Citizens continue to demand answers from Washington after the so-called 'Avengers' disappeared from public view…"
The words settled heavy in his stomach. Avengers. Alien attack. Chitauri.
This was real. He was in the Marvel Universe—and the chaos was just beginning.
The world thought the storm had passed.
But he knew better.
And somewhere out there… heroes, gods, and monsters were only just waking up.
He opened the [Stats] screen with a thought. Basic, yes—but it was something. Something his. Something that gave him a sliver of control in a world known for spinning out of it.
He turned to the apartment's front door, pausing only to grab the coat on the chair. Inside the pocket, he found a torn subway card and a set of old keys.
He didn't know where they led.
But he was ready to find out.