In a California middle school in the United States, a mixed-race boy sat at his desk yawning.
The teacher was still lecturing on basic physics.
The classroom contained Black and white students, but not a single Asian face—except his.
Ryden Hunt looked at the teacher on the podium with a face full of disdain.
In his eyes, the man was talking nonsense.
Ryden was the son of Ethan Hunt, a famous scientist at the U.S. Science Research Institute and an generation early immigrant from the East.
His mother was the school's English teacher, a local Californian through and through.
If Ryden weren't a reincarnated soul, he probably wouldn't feel out of place.
With his mixed heritage and a name that blended little East with West, he fit the Western aesthetic perfectly.
A pile of scattered parts sat on the lab table, intended for students to assemble whatever gadgets they imagined.
The teacher simply sat at the front, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper, provided no one asked questions.
The "free-range" style of education was on full display here.
If you were a genius, this was your stage; if you were trash, well, you could just enjoy the "happy hour."
Most students were chasing each other around; lab class was essentially a study hall for goofing off.
Ryden tilted his head, reflecting.
After a month since his reincarnation, he finally understood what kind of world this was, where he was, and who he was.
Everyone dreams of reincarnation, but no one knows if it's real because those who go never come back to hold a press conference and say, "Hey, I crossed over!" That would be ridiculous.
The year was 1938, one year before the outbreak of the World War.
Here, there was the familiar Stark Industries, but there were also the surprising cities of Gotham and Metropolis.
Two distinct styles were completely merged in this world, making it impossible to tell if this was the Marvel Universe or the DC Universe.
"Hey, Ryden, what are you doing? The teacher told us to test power generation principles. Did you spend all night playing games? Hey, you didn't even invite me!" A slightly chubby Black boy patted Ryden on the shoulder.
Like in every novel, the protagonist always had a few friends.
Terrence was Ryden's elementary school classmate, and now they had entered middle school together.
Their bond was tight.
Ryden shrugged and screwed a part into the assembly.
"It's fine, just a little experiment. Please, what games? I was just reading at home. Heh heh, this... this is a great invention!"
On the table sat a strange coil made of an iron ring with wire wrapped around it layer by layer, along with other scattered components.
From afar, it looked like a mess; up close, well, it looked like a pile of...familiar stuff.
If anyone mocked him, Ryden would surely retort: What do you know? This is the famous Ark Reactor! Okay, it was just a replica—a small-scale imitation.
Ryden wasn't talented enough yet to build a functional miniature reactor.
Since his arrival, he had no superpowers and no world-ending wealth.
All he had were a pile of books left by his parents and a small suburban house.
That was it.
Terrence looked at his friend suspiciously.
It wasn't that he doubted Ryden's intelligence, but six months ago, an "accident" occurred because Ryden had performed a suicidal, crazy experiment.
Luckily, he escaped with his life that day.
Was he starting the "death-seeking experiment method" again after only a month?
Ryden had long since integrated the original body's memories.
Seeing his friend's suspicious look, he knew what the boy was thinking.
A month ago, the original owner of this body lost his parents when agents blew up the entire technology institute where they worked.
Seeking revenge, he tried to build a powerful bomb.
Instead of a bomb, he burned the house down.
The volatile explosives even sent the poor guy flying; luckily, the blast wave only resulted in a head injury.
The incident caused quite a stir at the time.
After all, Ethan Hunt was a top scientist, and the destruction of the institute was a slap in the face to the Americans.
So, when Ryden claimed the explosion was just a lab accident, even the military took notice.
As they say, "the son of a mouse knows how to dig holes." Ryden was seen as a talented researcher, which helped keep him out of real trouble.
"Hey man, don't look at me like that. I'll start thinking you like men. Trust me, this is just a concept. I don't want to die again!" Ryden joked, his expression relaxed.
Terrence breathed a sigh of relief and patted his chest.
"Hey, I was going to say! Don't go dying on me, or who will I play with? You're so smart, you'll definitely be a scientist like your father. Want to go to the park after school?"
What was there to do in the 1930s? No electronics, very few movies—and those were incredibly expensive.
Entertainment for kids was limited to playing cards or games that seemed fun to children but utterly childish to adults.
Ryden had the soul of a twenty-something.
There was no way he was going to play house with them; it was too embarrassing.
"Fine, I knew a shut-in like you wouldn't go to the park. But hey, man... seeing that rascal expression on your face again... it proves you've moved on!" Terrence flashed a grin, his white teeth gleaming.
"One must always look forward. Forget the park. If you're interested, want to hit Old Forest Street tonight? My experiment is missing a few materials." Ryden warmly invited his chubby friend.
Despite his age, Terrence's genes made him quite sturdy.
Terrence curled his lip, knowing Ryden's character well.
The guy was a total jerk; he always talked a big game, but he really just wanted a pack mule.
"You're not going to buy a mountain of materials for me to carry again, are you? I won't help you for free. For a classmate, the 'friend price' is five cents. Otherwise, I wouldn't do it for ten!"
Talk about a ripoff! This was the pre-WWII era; a dollar could feed a family of three for a week.
Money went a long way back then, unlike the millions and billions of the future.
"Fine, you greedy merchant. Only because we're classmates!" Ryden didn't mind.
With the money and property his parents left behind, he wasn't rich, but he was comfortably middle-class.
As a scientist, money went out fast, but it came in fast too.
Ryden spent the whole class working.
His mind was filled with physics formulas and periodic tables that used to look like gibberish.
Thanks to the original owner's brilliant mind, Ryden inherited a vast amount of seemingly useless knowledge along with his memories.
It made sense; someone the military kept an eye on couldn't be ordinary.
Capitalism was a blood-sucking vampire; they wouldn't swarm unless they smelled a profit.
While others slept or chatted, Ryden focused on his experiment.
Knowing how dangerous this world was, he had to race against time to turn knowledge into weapons for self-protection.
Since Gotham existed, it meant Wonder Woman would appear during the war, along with Steve Rogers—the future Captain America and idol of 21st-century kids.
Experimenting was tedious, especially without an AI.
Every step had to be recorded with pen and paper.
Ryden deeply envied Tony Stark for having a digital butler like Jarvis.
To a researcher, that was a godsend—the difference between a gas stove and a primitive wood fire.
Dense coils were wrapped around an iron ring behind a plastic barrier, with scattered components embedded using a soldering iron.
A small iron ring in the center formed an acceleration channel.
To prevent shorts, everything was separated by insulation.
Once powered, the coils began to spin.
Heated parts expanded against thermal-sensitive materials, accelerating the current through physical pressure.
The iron coil soon glowed with a blue luster, looking like a luminous ring.
It didn't look practical yet, but Ryden was thrilled.
This was the prototype for Iron Man's repulsors.
Before, he could only watch the high-tech armor on a screen, dreaming of being a hero while working a grueling job.
Today, having arrived in this era, he was determined to fulfill his dream: chasing beautiful women!
Er, okay, chasing girls was a side hustle.
His real goal was to be a "freeloading hero." He'd enjoy the public's adoration while just hanging around Batman, Iron Man, or Cap.
Fighting and killing wasn't his style.
As Ryden fantasized with a smirk, the students around him scrambled away, fearing the "Science Madman" was about to cause another disaster.
He had nearly blown himself up before; if they graduated alive, the whole class would probably thank him for his "mercy."
When physics ended, Ryden packed his parts.
He wasn't giving his hard-earned materials to the school for free.
The teacher glanced at him through his glasses; he didn't care that Ryden did his own thing as long as his grades were good.
Ryden could have danced on the table for all he cared.
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