Patch was utterly speechless.
He never imagined that the world he crash-landed into would turn out to be this one.
"The Marvel world? You've got to be kidding me!" Striding quickly back to his room, Patch covered his face with both hands and cried out in despair.
But after carefully sorting through the fifteen years of memories he had in this world, Patch realized it wasn't a joke at all—this really was the Marvel world.
A trap! A massive trap!
That was Patch's first thought about Marvel.
Thanos, who could probably fight toe-to-toe with the Lich King Sargeras; Dormammu, the Devourer of the Dark Dimension, beyond the limits of time; Odin, who claimed to be the King of Gods; and a host of Asgardian warriors.
As for Patch, he was just a beginner wizard with a single basic spellbook. No—he wasn't even at the beginner level yet. If any of those beings noticed him, he wouldn't even have time to make a sound before being erased from existence.
And that's not even counting the heroes on Earth.
Tony Stark—Iron Man—what a legend! The greatest inventor of the century… and an unrivaled playboy. He had a head full of advanced technological knowledge and ran the world's largest industrial company, Stark Industries.
To be rich, brilliant, and charming all at once—what more could anyone ask for? And he had the ability to back it up.
Patch wanted that too… but that was just wishful thinking.
Then there was Captain America, Steve Rogers, the only successful result of the U.S. military's super-soldier project during World War II.
Far beyond ordinary humans in physique, a master of combat and firearms, and—most importantly—he wielded an indestructible vibranium shield. Having defeated the Nazis and crushed Hydra, Captain America was practically a symbol of American heroism for generations.
Patch thought he might stand a chance against the Captain—maybe—but only after he spent a few years mastering true wizardry.
And the Hulk, Dr. Bruce Banner… well, let's not even go there. The guy could casually stomp him into paste without noticing.
And so on, and so on...
Patch didn't want to think anymore. His ideals were beautiful, but reality was unbearably cruel.
He feared his mind might break under the weight of it all.
Thankfully, after checking the current timeline, he realized that the main story hadn't started yet.
Tony Stark was probably still living the high life, flirting and partying across the country. As for "Iron Man"? Tony wouldn't even know what that meant yet.
Captain America was still frozen under layers of ice, snuggling with the Tesseract in his sleep.
Thor, Hulk, and the others were still far beyond his reach—no point worrying about them.
But there was one organization Patch couldn't ignore.
The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division—S.H.I.E.L.D.
As the world's largest and most secretive defense agency, S.H.I.E.L.D. was everywhere and knew everything. It was definitely not something Patch could afford to provoke.
Even if he someday mastered true wizardry, he'd still be no match for S.H.I.E.L.D.
After all, they had countless trained agents, and two of Nick Fury's top operatives—Hawkeye Barton and Black Widow Natasha—were definitely not to be underestimated.
"Low profile. I have to stay low profile," Patch decided.
For now, he'd just lie low and play it safe. No point throwing his life away.
When he got his hands on a few legendary artifacts and gained world-shaking power… well, that would be a different story.
Patch couldn't help but start daydreaming again.
---
Over six months later, on his sixteenth birthday, Patch said farewell to Father Magellan and Sister Mavis and left the orphanage where he had grown up.
Carrying a large backpack and his life savings of just over a thousand dollars, he found a small, shabby room in the slums of New York's 13th Street and settled down.
---
"Hey, kid, put down that toy. I don't want to hurt you."
At night, in a dark alley on 13th Street, Patch pointed coldly at a white youth holding a knife to a middle-aged woman.
"The Cloaked Guy?" The young man sneered. "You creepy masked freak—who do you think you are? Others might be scared of you, but I—"
"You talk too much. Haven't you heard that villains who monologue always die early?" Patch sighed beneath his cloak, then crossed the seven or eight meters between them in one stride. He placed a hand on the man's shoulder and whispered in his ear:
"Sleep."
With a thud, the young man rolled his eyes and collapsed to the ground.
"Ah—!" The middle-aged woman screamed and fled in terror.
"Am I really that scary?" Patch muttered, touching his face. "Whatever. Let's see what I got tonight."
Grinning, he crouched down and searched the unconscious man's pockets.
"Tch. Only two hundred and eighty-three dollars. Pathetic." He flattened the crumpled bills and counted them with disdain.
"So poor and so weak—serves you right." He gave the unconscious man a light kick.
"All right, mission accomplished." Stuffing the money into his pocket, Patch clapped his hands and murmured, "Teleport."
With a puff of smoke, he vanished from the spot.
---
Elsewhere on 13th Street, in a run-down little house, Patch tossed his black cloak aside, poured himself a glass of water, downed it in a few gulps, and sat by the window.
"The Cloaked Guy?"
Just remembering that nickname made him break into a cold sweat.
Who came up with that name? Come out—I swear I won't kill you.
It had been more than a year since he left the orphanage. With no higher education or useful skills, he couldn't get a decent job.
And he refused to do menial labor like construction or street cleaning.
So, after some thought, Patch happily decided to become a part-time "Neighborhood Hero" for 13th Street.
He'd rob robbers and steal from thieves—a noble cause of "robbing the rich to feed the poor." Though, in truth, the "poor" he helped was just himself.
Patch grinned shamelessly.
Still, thanks to his efforts over the past four years, the crime rate in the area had dropped significantly.
At first, the police were confused—why had there been so few complaints and reports lately?
Then, one day, they saw footage of Patch taking down criminals and realized the reason.
Oh, so there was a self-proclaimed vigilante cleaning up the streets!
At least, that was how Patch saw it.
In reality, the NYPD considered his actions a disruption of lawful enforcement and accused him of using illegal violence against citizens. They issued a warrant for his arrest.
But cunning as ever, the wizard Patch Mavis wasn't about to get caught so easily.
"So I took your jobs away and left you with nothing to do—is that really worth a manhunt?" Patch muttered helplessly. "You should be giving me a 'Good Citizen Award,' not a bounty!"