Felix Ragnell's hands trembled as he began to read the text.
[System Currency: Legend Points]
How to earn: Whenever an anomaly manifests, any sentient being who knows about it, witnesses it, or discusses it will have their emotions (fear, shock, curiosity, awe, etc.) converted into Legend Points. The more attention it draws, the more Legend Points you gain.
[System Functions]
1. Anomaly Summon: Spend Legend Points to perform a random or targeted summon of an anomaly. Summoned anomalies appear out of control; you must contain them yourself.
2. Summon Perks: Each successful summon grants a reward based on the anomaly's danger level.
3. Containment Perks: Each successful containment of an out-of-control anomaly grants you a portion of its abilities or absolute control over it.
4. Containment Space: The system provides an initial Containment Space for storing items or entities you've contained.
The more Felix read, the colder he felt.
What a pit trap of a system.
You summon something and it's hostile by default—and then you're the one who has to contain it?
How is that not the definition of "bare-handed wolf hunting"?
What if he pulled the Hard-to-Destroy Reptile, or that "Shy Guy" out of the hat—what would he use to contain them? His life?
[Newbie Pack has been delivered. Please check your inventory.]
A little gift-box icon popped up.
Felix clicked it on reflex.
Congratulations. You received:
1) Random Anomaly Summon Chance ×1
2) Anomaly Locator Map (shows the rough location of anomalies you've summoned) ×1
3) Revival Card ×3 (upon accidental death, revive at a safe location at full status)
Staring at the three "newbie" rewards, Felix didn't even know where to start roasting.
The summon chance is random—God knows what abomination it'll spit out.
The map? Useful-ish. At least he wouldn't have to scour the earth for the disaster he himself unleashed.
As for those three Revival Cards…
Their very existence screamed how lethal this "job" was.
Felix slumped onto the sofa and gave up struggling.
He got it now.
His life had just been shoved onto a runaway track toward an unpredictable, dangerous, and absolutely deranged abyss.
He eyed the [Random Anomaly Summon Chance] blinking on the panel and fell silent for a long, long time.
An "Anomaly Propagation System."
"Spread calamities."
Those words crushed the air out of his lungs.
And this was the Marvel world—chaotic by default.
There's the Mad Titan who could wipe out half the universe with a snap, Galactus who snacks on planets, and a grab-bag of dimensional demon-gods.
And now this system wanted him to let SCP Foundation nightmares loose on top of that.
Two trash fires, one planet.
Could this world even be saved?
Still… Felix was good at finding sunshine in a graveyard.
On second thought, the system wasn't entirely heartless.
It wouldn't dump every anomaly at once—he'd have to summon them one by one.
Plus, he had three precious revives.
Which meant, as long as he didn't die more than three times while playing stuntman at the edge of doom, he'd get another shot.
If he played it right—kept his head down and leveled up—he might actually survive this.
Maybe even… thrive.
Turtle up.
He had to turtle up.
Turtle until he was scarier than the Five Abstracts and the gods combined—then whoever came knocking could take a number.
That tiny shift in mindset loosened the taut wire in his chest.
Right then, a steady knock came at the door.
"Knock, knock."
"Young Master, it's me—Alfred."
A weathered yet resonant voice came from outside.
Felix dug through his host memories for the name.
Alfred Pennyworth—his "dear old" father's most trusted butler, the man who'd watched him grow up.
Of course, this Alfred wasn't that one from Gotham.
"Come in," Felix said, adjusting his posture.
A man in a crisp tailcoat, hair silvered but neatly combed, about sixty, pushed the door open. He carried a silver tray with a steaming cup of black tea.
"Young Master, you seem much steadier now."
Alfred placed the tea on the coffee table with impeccable grace.
"Though the Old Master has passed, you must rally soon. The Group still has many matters awaiting your direction."
Felix lifted the cup without answering.
Handle it?
How do you "handle" a trainwreck?
"I know you're unfamiliar with the Group's affairs," Alfred continued, bowing slightly. "So I took the liberty of selecting three of our most trustworthy personnel."
"They'll assist you in assuming control. They're waiting downstairs."
Felix's mind was still circling the system, so he only nodded absently.
"Send them up."
He might as well see what kind of "talent" he had on hand.
Soon, Alfred returned with three people.
Two women, one man.
Felix swept a casual glance over them—then thought nothing of it at first.
"Young Master, allow me to introduce them."
Alfred indicated the tall, sharp-featured Asian woman whose bearing radiated calm lethality.
"This is Melinda May, a retired Air Force special operations veteran, expert in both close-quarters combat and firearms—one of the Group's finest enforcers. By seniority, you might even call her Aunt."
The sip of tea Felix had just taken almost rocketed down the wrong pipe.
Melinda May?
The Cavalry?
S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ace?
His far-off aunt?
What was this mash-up?
His brain blue-screened as he stared at the woman.
Melinda merely dipped her chin in a neutral nod, unreadable.
Unaware of Felix's internal meltdown, Alfred moved on.
The next was a statuesque redhead in a black tactical bodysuit.
"This is Natasha Romanoff, formerly a top KGB operative, specialist in infiltration and interrogation. The Old Master held her in very high regard."
"Pffft—"
Felix actually spit his tea this time.
Natasha Romanoff.
Black Widow.
A founding-era Avenger.
Felix's worldview was now being pulped past recovery.
Lastly, Alfred gestured to the most normal-looking of the trio: a middle-aged man in a neat suit with a mild, friendly smile.
"This is Phil Coulson, he—"
"Enough. Don't."
Felix shot to his feet, voice cracking.
Phil Coulson.
Level 8 S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Nick Fury's right hand. Captain America's #1 fanboy.
He knew them. He knew all of them.
The room tilted and Felix nearly lost his balance.
He looked from his supposed "trusted lieutenants" to his "loyal old butler," whose kindly face hadn't changed a whit.
An absurd thought began screaming in his skull.
His smuggling Group…
…could it be that every single one of them is undercover?
(End of Chapter)
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