Adam Thompson, thirty-seven, had always been a man of rhythm and routine. The sizzling of garlic in oil, the sharp ring of a knife against the cutting board, the hiss of steam rising from a pan—these were the beats of his life's symphony. He wasn't just a chef; he was a conductor of flavors, an artist who painted with spices and sauces.
People came to Adam's Fusion Cuisine not only for food but for comfort. Some came after breakups, others after promotions, a few after funerals. Adam had a strange way of making every plate feel like it was meant just for you. A perfect balance of flavor and heart.
But Adam's quiet heroism stretched beyond the kitchen. He was the kind of man who, when something went wrong, didn't stand still. He moved.
That's what happened on the night that changed everything.
The fire had erupted fast—faster than anyone expected. A faulty wire, a flash, and then a whole apartment complex swallowed in flames. Most people ran. Adam ran too… but toward the smoke.
Inside, it was chaos. Heat pressed against his skin like a living thing. The smoke clawed into his lungs, making each breath burn. He stumbled through the darkness, following the faint cry of someone trapped. And when he found them, curled against the wall, choking and terrified, Adam lifted them without hesitation.
One step. Then another. His chest screamed for air, his body begging him to drop, but he kept walking. He pushed through the flames, the crackle of fire louder than his heartbeat.
And finally, the doorway. Cool air brushed against his skin, sweet and fresh. He shoved the victim into the arms of paramedics, barely able to smile.
"It's… okay… they're safe…" he thought, collapsing as the world went dark.
For the city, that was where Adam's story ended. A chef turned hero, remembered in headlines and whispered in grateful voices.
But Adam's journey wasn't over. Not even close.
---
Instead of silence, Adam awoke to… nothing. And yet everything.
A vast emptiness stretched around him. Black, yet shimmering. Silent, yet humming with power. He floated, weightless, his body no longer heavy with pain or exhaustion. His lungs did not burn, his heart did not pound.
This was not heaven. Nor hell. Nor any place his earthly senses could name.
This was the Void.
Time here was strange. It didn't move forward, or backward—it curled. Space bent and stretched. Threads of glowing light wove around him, drifting like ribbons in an unseen current. Each one pulsed with meaning, with existence.
Adam should have been afraid. Yet, for reasons beyond him, he wasn't. He felt… awake.
The Void whispered to him. Not in words, but in feelings. Recognition. Resonance. It was as if this strange, boundless place had seen his final act—the courage, the empathy, the stubborn refusal to let someone else perish—and answered.
Something inside him shifted. His passion, once expressed through spices and sauces, knives and pans, became something cosmic. His hands twitched, and the threads of reality nearest to him bent, folding like dough under his palms.
Adam laughed softly, the sound echoing in the endless dark.
So… cooking reality itself now? Not bad.
He pulled one glowing strand, and it unraveled like noodles. Another, he twisted, and it tightened into a knot of sparks.
Power flowed through him, calm but endless. It wasn't wild. It wasn't chaotic. It was steady—like a recipe followed to perfection.
The Void didn't just accept him. It crowned him.
Adam Thompson, the humble chef, had been remade.
And thus, the Void Vanguard was born.
---
For a time—though time meant little here—Adam experimented. He shaped stars like dumplings, rolled galaxies like sushi, kneaded dimensions as though they were bread. Each act was effortless, instinctive.
And each act left him… bored.
Unimaginably, crushingly bored.
He conjured a blade sharper than logic, forged armor thicker than paradox, brewed drinks that could intoxicate entire timelines at once. But nothing stirred him. No thrill, no struggle, no spark.
His mortal life had been full of flavor because it had limits. Burn the garlic, and it was ruined. Miss a step in the recipe, and it collapsed. Saving someone from a fire had mattered precisely because he could fail.
Here? There was no failure. No risk. No danger.
And for Adam Thompson, that was worse than death.
He leaned back into the endless dark, watching threads of reality drift around him like overcooked pasta.
I can't believe this… he thought. I spent years worrying about bills, stressing about customers, nearly burned myself trying to keep up… and now? Now I'm too strong. Too perfect. Too… bored.
The irony wasn't lost on him. A man who once lived for flavor now found existence itself tasteless.
So Adam made a decision.
If the Void had remade him, then he would remake his purpose.
Not to conquer. Not to rule. Not even to create.
But to escape his boredom.
Whatever it took—whether that meant unraveling universes, jumping across multiverses, or pestering the most absurd characters reality had to offer—Adam would keep searching for something, anything, that could make him feel alive again.
Because Adam Thompson, the Void Vanguard, wasn't afraid of death.
He was afraid of eternal boredom.
And so his quest began.
A chef turned hero.
A hero turned vanguard.
A vanguard turned… wanderer of boredom.
The multiverse had no idea what was about to hit it.