Marco Antonio Durán had been in Middle-earth for exactly fifteen minutes and had already tried three times to find any sign of civilization. All three attempts had inexplicably led him to the same gigantic tree.
" Okay , this is official," he muttered, staring at the tree with genuine frustration. "Either this tree is haunting me, or my sense of direction is still complete garbage even after death."
[Statistically speaking, Marco, the probability of returning to the same point three times by walking in a straight line is 0.003%. Congratulations, you've managed to be extraordinarily bad at something that doesn't even require skill.]
"Thank you, TARS. Your words are a balm to my recently deceased soul."
[You're welcome. Now, if you finish your little session of geographical disorientation, I have some important information to share.]
Marco slumped against the tree, finally surrendering. The grass was soft, the air smelled of something between flowers and old wood, and the sky... the sky was fucking beautiful. Two suns created a play of golden and orange light that no sunset in Mexico City could match.
"Okay," she sighed. "Enlighten me, sarcastic voice in my head. What's all this fuss about?"
A flash of bright blue light appeared before him, materializing into a floating holographic screen. Marco jumped, hitting his head against the tree.
"HOLY MOTHER!"
[Dramatic. I like it.]
The screen displayed text that began to scroll:
MULTIVERSAL CAPITALIST SYSTEMVersion 7.∞Designated Owner: Marco Antonio DuránSpecies: Human (Homo Sapiens - Earth Dimension-616-C)Activation Cause: Death by Extreme Statistical Improbability
Marco read twice before speaking.
" Multiversal Capitalist System ? Is that like... a video game?"
[It's considerably more complex than a video game, though I appreciate that your limited brain needs simple comparisons. Let me explain it in terms you can understand.]
The screen changed, now showing an image of a massive door, adorned with symbols that seemed to be constantly changing.
[You are now the owner of The Store. Not just any store, THE Store. It exists outside of time and space, simultaneously connected to all universes, dimensions, and timelines that exist, existed, or will exist.]
"Wait, wait..." Marco threw up his hands. "Are you telling me I own a store? Me? The guy who just died watching football?"
[Exactly. The universe has a peculiar sense of humor.]
"So what do I sell in this store? Multiversal tacos al pastor ?"
[All.]
Marco blinked.
"All?"
[Everything. Weapons from any dimension. Technology from advanced civilizations. Magic from fantastical realms. Forbidden knowledge. Artifacts of power. Food from your world, since I know that particularly interests you. Literally anything that exists in the infinite multiverse can be sold in your shop.]
Marco's mind began to process the information. His merchant's brain, inherited from his father and grandfather, both vendors at the La Merced market, started to do calculations.
" Okay ... that sounds... wait. Sold? To whom?"
[Excellent question. This is where it gets interesting.]
The screen changed again, now showing faces. Dozens, hundreds of faces of creatures, human beings, entities that Marco couldn't even classify.
[Your store will receive customers from all universes. I select them. I invite them. You serve them, negotiate, and sell. It's simple.]
"Simple?" Marco rubbed his temples. "Brother, none of this sounds simple."
[You're right. I forgot to mention the rules.]
"Of course there are rules..."
[RULE NUMBER ONE: Nothing is free. Not for you, not for your customers. Everything has a price.]
[RULE NUMBER TWO: As the owner, you get an 80% discount on personal purchases and a 50% commission on every sale.]
[RULE NUMBER THREE: Time does not advance in Middle-earth while you are inside The Shop. You can spend days there and not a second will have passed here.]
[RULE NUMBER FOUR: You cannot refuse to serve an assigned customer. However, you may freely negotiate the terms of each transaction.]
[RULE NUMBER FIVE: Every item sold has consequences. The system is not responsible for how customers use what they buy.]
[RULE NUMBER SIX: If you abuse the system, I'll revoke your privileges. If you try to hack me , I'll kill you. It's that simple.]
Marco whistled softly.
"Well, at least you're honest."
[Always. Honesty is more efficient than lies. Now, the coin.]
A small gold coin materialized, floating in front of Marco. He caught it in mid-air. It was surprisingly heavy, with strange symbols engraved on both sides.
[Multiversal Credits. MC for short. This is your new economy. How do you get them?]
"Let me guess... selling things?"
[That's right. But you can also convert valuables, memories, intense emotions, fragments of power, and even... though I don't recommend it... parts of your soul.]
"Parts of my soul?" Marco dropped the coin. "WHAT?"
[Relax. It's optional and extremely regulated. Only for emergencies. Although, knowing your species, someone will eventually try.]
Marco picked up the coin more carefully this time, as if he were going to bite it.
"This is crazy..."
[This is your reality now. Marco, the taco vendor who cried for Cruz Azul, died. Marco, the multiversal merchant, was born . Better or worse? Time will tell.]
"Wait, wait..." Marco jumped to his feet. "What about going back? To my world? To my family? My mom must be..."
He stopped. The realization hit him like a bucket of cold water.
"I'm dead. They already had my funeral, right?"
[Three days ago, in your original timeline. Your mother cried. Your cousin Toño gave a terrible but moving speech. There were tacos. It was all very Mexican and appropriately dramatic.]
Marco felt a lump in his throat. He slumped back against the tree.
"Three days..."
[I'm sorry, Marco. I know this is difficult. But there's no going back. However...]
TARS's voice, for the first time, sounded less sarcastic.
[...you have a unique opportunity. Real power. Real influence. The ability to affect not just one world, but infinity. Your family lost you, it's true. But you can honor their memory by being something more than you could ever be there.]
Marco remained silent for a long moment, processing everything. Finally, a sad smile crossed his face.
"My boss always said, 'Son, you're a natural salesman. You could sell sand to the desert.' I guess we'll find out how true that was now."
[That's the spirit. Now, ready to see your store?]
"Can I say no?"
[No.]
"Then I guess so."
The holographic screen shone with blinding intensity. The air around Marco began to distort, as if reality itself were bending. And then, with a sound like a massive door opening, he appeared.
A door.
No, THE door.
It was easily ten meters tall, made of a material that looked like liquid metal mixed with star-shaped glass. The symbols on its surface were constantly shifting, changing between languages Marco had never seen and some he vaguely recognized from movies and anime.
"Fucking shit..." he whispered with genuine reverence.
[Welcome to The Multiversal Store , Marco Antonio Durán. Your new life begins... now.]
The door began to open slowly, revealing an interior that defied all spatial logic. From the outside, it looked like a simple door, but inside... inside was an infinite space. Corridors that stretched to the horizon. Bookshelves that rose until they disappeared into a kind of interior sky. Objects glowing with lights of a thousand different colors.
Marco took a step forward. Then another. And when he crossed the threshold, he felt a tingling sensation throughout his body, as if every cell were recalibrating.
[Welcome home, boss.]
"Boss..." Marco smiled broadly for the first time since his death. "I like the sound of that."
The interior of the store was absolutely surreal. The floor appeared to be made of white marble that glowed with its own light. The shelves stretched endlessly, organized into sections that were constantly being rearranged.
WEAPONS - TECHNOLOGY - MAGIC - ARTIFACTS - CONSUMABLES - SERVICES - KNOWLEDGE - ???
"Services?" Marco asked, walking towards one of the sections.
[Training. Body modifications. Skill transfer. Resurrections. Dimensional travel. If a service exists, it's available... for the right price.]
Marco stopped in front of a shelf labeled FOOD - EARTH SECTION . His eyes lit up like a child's at Christmas.
"Holy crap... do you have tacos al pastor?"
[We have cleats in 47 different sizes, including yours.]
"I'm going to get along well with this job..."
He continued walking, amazed. He saw swords that floated and glowed. Guns that seemed made of pure energy. Books that whispered in ancient languages. Potions of impossible colors. An entire shelf of what appeared to be... video game controllers?
[Those are Reality Controllers from the Game-237 Universe. They can manipulate the laws of physics within a 50-meter radius. They cost 500,000 MC each.]
" Okay , that's ridiculously powerful and ridiculously expensive."
Welcome to multiversal capitalism . The most absurd things are the most expensive.
Marco finally reached the center of the store, where a massive dark wood desk seemed to grow out of the floor itself. Behind it was a chair that looked unnaturally comfortable.
[Your office. From here you manage everything. Inventory. Clients. Finances. Item research. And, most importantly...]
A giant screen materialized above the desk.
[...preparation for clients.]
Marco sat down in the chair. It immediately molded perfectly to his back. He groaned with pleasure.
" Okay , this chair alone is worth dying for."
[ Focus , Marco. It's time for your first client.]
Marco's heart skipped a beat.
"Already? Now? Isn't there like a tutorial or something?"
Life doesn't have tutorials. But I'll give you some basic client information before they come in.
The screen lit up, displaying information that made Marco choke on his own saliva.
CLIENT ASSIGNED #001
Name: Loki Laufeyson
Universe of Origin: Earth-199999 (MCU - Post- Ragnarok , Pre- Infinity Timeline ) War )
Hazard Level: (EXTREME)
Power Level: Upper-Middle Class God
Specialty: Magic, Illusions, Manipulation
Reason for Visit: Seeking power to confront Thanos
Available Resources : 2,500,000 MC
Warning: Extremely cunning. Don't trust anything he says. Probability of attempted scam: 94%
Marco read the information three times.
"LOKI? Marvel 's Loki ? My first client is literally the God of Lies?"
[That's right. And it will start in exactly 60 seconds. I suggest you get ready.]
"HOW DO I PREPARE FOR LOKI?"
[I don't know. I'm a system, not a therapist. Figure something out.]
Marco jumped to his feet, pacing in circles behind the desk. His merchant's mind kicked in. He thought about his father, about how he negotiated in the market. He thought about every haggle, every tough sale.
" Okay , okay ... think, Marco. He's a client. Just a client with godlike powers who could kill you with a snap of his fingers. That's all. It's not a big deal. Breathe."
[50 seconds.]
"TARS, what if he tries to kill me?"
[You can't. The store rules are absolute. Within these walls, no customer can harm the owner. Outside of them... well, I hope you do well in sales and buy yourself some protection.]
"That's NOT comforting!"
[It wasn't meant to be. 30 seconds.]
Marco smoothed down his Cruz Azul jersey, which had mysteriously survived his dimensional transfer. He mentally slapped himself to focus.
"You can do this. You're Marco Antonio Durán. You sold tamales to people who hate tamales. You sold Cruz Azul jerseys during América 's celebration . You can sell to a Viking god adopted by the Asgardians ..."
[10 seconds.]
The air in front of the desk began to glow emerald green. A crack in reality formed, expanding as if someone were tearing the fabric of space.
[5... 4... 3... 2... 1...]
[Customer entering. Good luck, Marco. You're going to need it.]
From the green rift emerged a tall figure with slicked-back black hair, clad in Asgardian armor of green and gold leather. His piercing green eyes scanned the area with a mixture of curiosity and calculated suspicion.
Loki Laufeyson had arrived at the store.
And Marco Antonio Durán, a taco vendor turned multiversal merchant , was about to have the most important negotiation of his new life.
Loki looked at the shop with a raised eyebrow. Then his eyes fell on Marco. A smile spread across his face.
"Interesting..." he said with that characteristic British accent. "They promise me a shop that sells the impossible, and I find a... mortal? In a blue T-shirt from some unknown tribal clan?"
Marco swallowed. Then, remembering every ounce of Mexican charisma he possessed, he smiled back.
"Welcome, Mr. Loki . I'm Marco Antonio Durán, owner of this store. And yes, it's a Cruz Azul jersey. The best soccer team in Mexico, even though we like to lose dramatically in the last thirty seconds. How can I help you today?"
Loki blinked. He clearly hadn't expected that answer.
For the first time in a long time, the God of Lies didn't know what to say.
And Marco, despite his inner terror, thought: "Perhaps this isn't so impossible after all."
[END OF CHAPTER 2]