"I just don't measure up to her! Please—don't leave me!"
A woman of about twenty clung to a sleazy man's thigh, sobbing uncontrollably. Her dark blue jeans had been torn from the scuffle, exposing the pale skin beneath.
Ethan Cole, who had been about to cross the street, suddenly snapped to attention. No traffic light's countdown could stop his curiosity — seeing a crowd had only made the woman cry louder.
"Waaah— even for the child! Please, don't leave us!"
Hearing the word "child," the elderly people who had been preparing to cross brightened and brusquely turned on the man, pointing fingers and staring at him with contempt.
"Let go! Let go of me, now!!"
The man roared in anger, wrenching his leg. A few burly men in the crowd couldn't stand it and stepped forward, surrounding him.
"Uh… if I tell you this is a misunderstanding, will you believe me…?"
Seeing the four big, tattooed men, the sleazy fellow immediately backed down.
"What trash! I can't stand scum like you!"
The four thugs rushed in and began beating him. The woman took advantage of the chaos to snatch up her shoulder bag, check that nothing was missing, then stood and straightened her clothes. As she passed the scene she kicked the sleazebag's exposed, hairy leg.
During the scuffle a dagger slipped from the sleazebag's belt and clattered to the ground. The four thugs immediately drew back.
"Come on then! You've got guts—come and get us! Why's a petty thief causing so much trouble? Come on! Aren't you so tough?"
Waving the dagger, the sleazebag screamed hysterically. The thugs retreated slowly. Ethan glanced at the woman across the street and thought, impressed, "Someone who knows what they're doing…"
"You little punk, you love watching this, don't you!"
Hearing the shout, Ethan looked around — and in the few seconds his back had been turned, the old people and the four thugs had vanished.
"If you've got the guts, don't run! I'll stab you, you bastard!"
The sleazebag charged toward Ethan with the knife. Ethan swallowed, spat once, and ran — he never expected the violence to spread to him.
With three seconds left on the green light, Ethan decided to gamble. The sleazebag paused, glanced at the signal, then at the traffic. Hesitation flickered across his face. But seeing Ethan's earlier infuriating look as a gawker, some blind fury rose in him.
In a fit of rage he hurled the dagger, intending only to scare. Ethan, sprinting across the crosswalk, stumbled and fell; the dagger struck true — buried in the hollow at his back, just above the heart.
The sleazebag froze. He had aimed for a leg — how could it have gone so wrong? His strength shouldn't have driven the blade all the way into someone's back.
"No—no—no! It wasn't me!"
He screamed and fled. Ethan felt the heat leaving his body; the car horns around him were suddenly unbearably loud.
"Damn it, don't block the road!"
A driver hammered his horn. The lane beside them had begun to move; only this lane was stalled. The driver checked his mirror, jerked the wheel, and changed lanes. The driver behind froze for a moment at the sight of the fallen man, but the horn on his car showed no mercy — after a beat he followed the first driver's lead.
"If destroying a world could save your life, would you destroy it?"
A voice whispered in Ethan's ear. His vision widened instantly. Looking down, he saw the crosswalk where he had been struck. The same insubstantial voice spoke again: "You still haven't answered me…"
Grasping at a last straw, Ethan's expression turned ferocious. He roared at the unseen presence.
"I will! I will destroy it! Please—save me!"
A silhouette of a man materialized before him: hands folded behind his back, standing like someone beyond the world. His words, however, were ice-cold.
"Every day the cosmos spawns a batch of worlds. I need you to pick one world as a transfer point, then go into those imagined worlds and kill their core figures. Afterward you must destroy the transfer world you chose."
Ethan's eyes flickered as multitudinous worlds flashed through his mind. Before he could answer the man's voice continued, colder than before.
"Now I'll give you two options: first, I send your soul to the world of novels; second, I send it to the world of film and television."
"Um… could you send my soul back to my body and call an ambulance? I think I can still be saved…"
Ethan swallowed and looked pitifully at the silhouette, secretly hoping the stranger might grant such a small favor.
"Good, boy. I didn't expect you to be so brave — choosing the hardest option: the Marvel Universe as your transfer point!"
"Wait! I didn't— I never— don't say that! I never chose Marvel!"
"The last boy who chose DC was brave like you. Though he's dead, his spirit lives on in you. Good luck — I'm rooting for you~"
With that, the man took a stride and brought Ethan into the cosmos. One more step and they hovered above a city. Looking down at the teeming masses, Ethan swallowed and murmured,
"This is Marvel? It actually exists?"
"The planet you came from has a peculiar property: whenever its beings form a scene in their minds, that scene can materialize somewhere in the multiverse and eventually evolve into a full world."
With a grand gesture the man produced a system panel before Ethan. It displayed his basic stats and four options: Backpack, Worlds, Contracts, and Shop.
"There's a list inside. Your job is to find the story figures named there and deal with them. Once you complete a mission, the system will absorb that world. When you've amassed enough power to destroy the Marvel world itself, I will grant you one wish. The backpack contains my private sponsorship. Good luck, young man."
Ethan's consciousness blurred. A sensation of falling seized him. When he regained awareness he was lying on a ten-foot-wide bed, surrounded by luxurious furnishings. His right hand rested quietly on his thigh; he drew a breath and gaped around the bedroom, thrilled.
He hadn't expected the mysterious man to be so generous — he'd made Ethan a wealthy man.
"Hahaha… this teapot is great—dad will love it. That vase is lovely; I can take it back to Mom for her flowers."
The smile faded from Ethan's face as reality crystallized: he and his old life were no longer in the same world. More precisely, he had died on the road — his body out there likely already turned to dust.