"Alan… you must live on…"
A woman's voice, weak and trembling, whispered as her bloodied hand caressed the dirt-streaked face of a child. Her voice faded into silence.
"Mom! Mom!" The child cried out softly, but no answer came. His mother's warmth was gone.
Around them stood the shattered ruins of buildings, as if a great war had swept through. In truth, it had been a war. Superheroes soared across the skies, while endless monsters poured out from a swirling "black hole" above, as though intent on devouring the world itself.
Through his tears, the child looked up. A twisted, hideous face plummeted from the heavens, jaws wide open, lunging straight at him
"Hah! Hah!!"
Gima jolted awake, gasping for breath. His hands touched the sweat-drenched skin of his forehead. "Thank God… just a dream," he muttered.
He swung his legs off the bed, intending to get a glass of water. But something was wrong. The room wasn't his. Had he gotten drunk last night and wandered into a stranger's apartment?
"Ugh!! Ahh!!" A sharp, stabbing pain suddenly tore through his skull. Gima clutched his head and cried out. Slowly, the pain ebbed away, but what remained left him stunned.
There was something in his mind—memories that weren't his.
Sure, sometimes when visiting a new place, you might feel a strange sense of déjà vu. But even then, you could convince yourself it was an illusion. This… this wasn't an illusion. The memories were far too vivid.
If it were something absurd, like "I rode a pig yesterday," maybe he could laugh it off. But these memories told him things that were impossible to deny.
The year was 2012. Humanity had just won a war against aliens. And the ones who fought weren't the army—it was Iron Man, Captain America, the Hulk, and even Thor of Norse myth.
Which meant… this world was the Marvel Universe!
"This has to be a joke…" Gima muttered. He threw on clothes at lightning speed and ran out of the apartment. He had to confirm.
The memories told him his name was Alan Klein, a small-time real estate agent struggling to survive in New York City's glitz and chaos.
Moments later, he stepped out of the elevator. Before him stretched a bustling cityscape—towering skyscrapers, endless streams of cars, American flags fluttering on every corner.
It was real. He had crossed over. Crossed into America. Crossed into the Marvel Universe.
Captain America was real. The Hulk was real. Iron Man was real. This world truly had superheroes—but also monsters, villains, and aliens without number. It was a world steeped in danger.
Gima had always loved superheroes. Every time a Marvel movie came out, he was there on opening night. He still remembered the night Avengers: Endgame premiered—it was pouring rain, but even that couldn't keep him away from the midnight screening.
Sometimes he even dreamed of becoming a Marvel superhero himself, saving the world before waking with a satisfied smile to start a new day.
But now that he was truly here… the only thing he felt was fear.
Fear of aliens. Fear of supervillains. In this world, he was just an ordinary man. The dream of the child, moments before being devoured, replayed vividly in his mind. One day, that might be his fate. After all, there were only a handful of superheroes—but ordinary people like him numbered in the millions.
There was no way they could all be saved…
When danger came, superheroes couldn't be everywhere at once. He thought back to those scenes in the movies—civilians caught in the crossfire, cars exploding in the background, the countless nameless lives snuffed out. And worse yet, one day Thanos would snap his fingers.
Gima—no, Alan Klein—felt the crushing malice of this universe.
He drifted back to the apartment in a daze, hardly remembering how he had gotten into the elevator. His mind was consumed by the words: superheroes, supervillains, monsters, aliens.
Collapsing onto the bed, he buried his head in the sheets. His past life's memories came rushing back.
In his old world, he had been an ordinary man, an orphan who clawed his way up through part-time jobs and night classes. He'd earned a place at a decent university, found a job he actually liked after graduating.
Sure, he was still single, but not because women looked down on him. Quite the opposite—he was good-looking enough that plenty of girls had been interested. He simply poured all his time into "changing his fate."
He had just made a down payment on a house. He hadn't even gotten to enjoy the bitter-sweet life of a new homeowner before fate threw him across worlds.
His thoughts blurred, and Alan Klein's memories surged back in.
Coincidentally, Alan too had grown up in an orphanage. He was a real estate agent by profession—but after two months without a single sale, the company had just "let him go." His boss had even twisted the knife, deducting his base pay under the guise of "teaching him a lesson about society's warmth."
Now he was broke. Not a cent to his name. Maybe that was why the original Alan had cracked, drowning his sorrows in alcohol until not a drop was left—making his body the vessel Gima now occupied.
No matter what, he was Alan Klein now. Penniless, unemployed, trapped in a dangerous universe. He needed a plan. But exhaustion tugged at him, and his new body slipped back into drowsiness.
[Ding! The Ultra-God System has been activated!]
"…An illusion?" Alan mumbled. Well, it made sense. He'd read enough webnovels to know: transmigrators always awakened some kind of cheat. Otherwise, how could they possibly rise up and crush their enemies?
[Ding! Host bound: Alan Klein]
Base Attributes:
Constitution: 7 （Comment: Not bad, though this system has a strange urge to unbind itself. If possible, it would.）
(Average human baseline: 10)
Strength: 6 （Comment: Strongly recommend the host stay home with the doors locked. Much safer that way.）
Spirit: 7 （Comment: Muggle!! Croak!! Croak!!）
Speed: 6 （Comment: In human terms, you're the fighter jet of weaklings.）
Charm: 9 （Comment: You're handsome!）
Luck: 9 （Comment: Fortune smiles upon you.）
Staring at the holographic projection hovering in his mind, Alan bolted upright.
"I knew it! I really am the chosen one! Even the system says I'm handsome, and my luck's off the charts."
As for the first four stats… Mr. Klein conveniently ignored them.
He covered his face with both hands, but the flush creeping up his cheeks and the trembling of his shoulders betrayed him.
Then he burst out laughing.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Exactly like someone who'd just won a multimillion-dollar jackpot.