Morin stared at the profession selection screen and drew in a slow breath.
"Mercenary, Designated Driver, Taxi Driver, Doctor, Renovation Worker..."
As expected of Marvel. The choices were absurdly broad.
For Morin as he was now, picking a profession had nothing to do with grinding experience. His strength was already there. He might not be able to crush every world-there was always a bigger fish-but making money wouldn't be an issue.
What mattered was the skills.
With that in mind, he made his choice without hesitation, selecting the profession at the far right-[Photographer].
Morin thought of a meme. Skill analysis was pointless. He knew his system too well. It was never "normal." What kind of Paladin came with Assassin skills? What kind of Magician actually used magic?
[Doctor] had tempted him for a moment, but he could already imagine the results.
[Efficient Anesthesia-Your club attacks are guaranteed to stun the patient].
[Eradication Treatment-Your treatment has a chance to completely kill the virus. Side effect: kills the host (Note: One of our subsidiaries is AstraZeneca)].
Yeah. No thanks.
He didn't think about it any further. Same rule as always.
Pick the far right.
Next was location.
Times Square, New York.
[Profession Selected]
[Timeline in the target world is unstable. Selected: Iron Man timeline.]
[Location Selected]
[Transmigration Beginning]
In the blink of an eye, Morin appeared in the middle of a crowded Times Square.
No one reacted. Either they didn't notice someone appearing out of thin air, or they noticed and decided his looks explained everything.
Without stopping, he pulled up his profession details while walking.
Destination: phone store.
Low EQ: buy a phone and save trouble.
High EQ: prepare for the future Multiverse Phone Exhibition.
[Photographer - Novice]
Title Buffs:
• [Photographers Have Cameras Everywhere] (aka [The Man with a Camera for a Face]-Who could refuse a man with a camera for a face? 320k Ultra-HD, 3600x Zoom, 360° Super Wide-Angle. What you see is what you capture!)
• [Photographers Are Always a Mystery - Novice] (While filming, you gain the same physical stats as your subject!)
• [Photographers Are Always a Legend - Novice] (While filming, your presence is greatly diminished!)
Holding his phone, Morin hissed.
He genuinely didn't know which one to roast first.
No base stat bonuses meant the skills themselves had to be insane.
The first one was clearly fluff. In Morin's eyes, it was the system proving he was "legit."
See? Camera. Photographer.
320k resolution? 3600x zoom? Flavor text.
The real threats were the second and third.
[Photographers Are Always a Mystery]. Even at Novice level, it copied the target's physical stats. And it stacked instead of replacing them.
If he pointed it at the Hulk...
Yeah. Exactly.
And that wasn't even the best part.
Morin already had Superman-level physical stats. The only missing piece was chloroplasts-basically, no sunlight-based power boost. What made this skill terrifying was the word "Novice."
If it could copy stats at Novice level, what happened later?
Intelligence? Magic?
That would be better than Kakashi.
Sharingan Ultimate Titanium Plus Edition.
At Master level, he'd be untouchable.
Of course, there had to be limits. He couldn't just copy anyone whenever he wanted. But right now, that wasn't a concern. He wasn't dealing with enemies at that level yet.
High cost-performance.
Then there was [Photographers Are Always a Legend]. Presence reduction at Novice.
What did the higher tiers look like?
Expectations were high.
"Time to test it," Morin thought.
After buying the phone, he checked the news.
Perfect timing. Tony Stark had just been kidnapped.
How did a photographer make money?
By filming and selling footage.
And Tony Stark-the playboy billionaire-was the perfect subject.
And customer.
When Morin appeared again, he was hovering above a canyon in the mountains of Afghanistan.
In other worlds, local forces might have reclaimed the land. In the Marvel Universe, there were always villains left behind.
These ones belonged to the Ten Rings. Low-tier cells. The group that had kidnapped Tony Stark.
"...Huh."
Morin looked down.
Explosives and weapons were scattered everywhere. Boxes of grenades and ammunition stacked in the open. Missiles sat loosely on crates with no restraints.
Modern missiles didn't explode just from falling, sure-but rain? Heat?
And they were lighting fires.
Actual fires.
Right there.
If a grenade rolled in, cooked off, triggered the ammo, which triggered the missiles...
Morin paused.
Yeah. Brainless.
Uneducated was terrifying. This wasn't "living on the edge." This was lighting a fire on top of a TNT pile.
"Makes sense," Morin muttered. "Only people like this wouldn't recognize an Arc Reactor or Mark armor."
Tony's survival really had been luck.
Believing he could build a Jericho missile in a cave with a hammer was one thing.
Not knowing the difference between a missile and a suit of armor was another.
Iron Man ✕
Education Matters ✓
Geniuses Rule ✓✓✓
With that thought, Morin walked straight into the canyon, camera in hand.
Yes, his profession came with a god-tier camera. But holding a physical one felt better. Also, the system camera's output...
One second was probably a gigabyte.
He'd stick with handheld for now.
In broad daylight, he walked past the terrorists and entered the cave.
No telepathy. No illusion.
Just [Photographers Are Always a Legend].
"I see," Morin thought as mana flowed while he filmed. "A type of magic. Completely new structure."
He'd learned countless systems across worlds, but the system always found a way to surprise him. Like a math problem with infinite solutions, all leading to the same answer.
While analyzing it, he reached the inner chamber.
No one reacted.
He passed through the iron door.
Inside, Yinsen and Tony were there.
Tony Stark, sleeveless shirt, muscles tense, hammering a steel mask.
Morin filmed.
Then stopped.
He used electromagnetism to read the memory card directly, hijacked an idle computer thousands of miles away, and began uploading.
At a U.S. military base in Afghanistan.
"Sir, we've received an email. The sender claims to have information on Tony Stark," a soldier reported, handing over a photo. "This was attached."
"What? Where?" Colonel Rhodes demanded, pacing.
"He's asking for one million dollars."
"I asked where he is," Rhodes snapped. "Do you people only know how to pay? Track the IP. Get the tech team. And verify the photo."
"Yes, sir!"
"Wait," Rhodes added. "Prepare the money too. If we can't trace him, a million for Tony is a bargain. Even the General won't argue."
"Yes, sir!"
Inside Tony Stark's villa.
"Ms. Potts, I have received an email," Jarvis said calmly. "The sender claims to know Mr. Stark's location. The attached image shows no signs of digital manipulation. The requested payment is one million dollars."
"Can you trace them?"
"I attempted an immediate backtrace. The sender used an idle computer and left no trail."
"Reply," Pepper said at once. "Tell them we'll pay."
As Pepper Potts, she didn't hesitate over a million dollars.
Back in the cave, Morin saw Jarvis's reply.
He smirked.
Decisive.
He sent the video.
Payment on delivery. Otherwise, it wouldn't count as experience. Merchant integrity mattered.
As for selling to multiple buyers?
If he could, why wouldn't he?
It wasn't an exclusive license.
The third message went out.
Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., received the report.
Same terms. One million dollars.
Naturally, Fury didn't agree outright.
A hacker threatening him?
He ordered an immediate counter-trace.
What unsettled him wasn't the demand.
It was the knowledge.
S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't public. Many officials didn't even know it existed.
And this person did.
Who were they? How much did they know? Where did the information come from?
Fury narrowed his remaining eye.
"Ms. Potts, the trojan I left on the system has activated," Jarvis said as the video played.
"Track them," Pepper said, eyes bright. "Don't alert them."
They'd made a mistake.
The video played.
A canyon. Armed men. The cameraman walking past them as if invisible.
At the back of the cave, through an iron door-
Tony Stark.
Swinging a hammer.
The frame froze.
Pepper covered her mouth. Tears fell.
She steadied herself.
"Can we locate this?"
"I am cross-referencing satellite data," Jarvis replied. Massive analysis began. "The previous data stream possessed an exceptionally strong firewall. A breach cannot be guaranteed without detection."
"Leave it," Pepper said firmly. "We just need Tony."
"I have identified three highly probable locations."
"Contact Mr. Stane," Pepper said, relief flooding her voice. "Have him speak with the military."
Obadiah Stane ended the call.
Tony's uncle. Acting head of Stark Industries.
And the man behind the kidnapping.
"...?"
"How did they find him?"
"He's not dead?"
"Didn't I tell them to kill him?"
"Are those people idiots?"
What do I do now?
Confusion.
Panic.
That was Obadiah Stane.
"Damn it."