Every morning we are born again. What we do today is what matters most." - Buddha
Death always comes too soon.
For Devin, it came on a Tuesday.
A dull, unremarkable day, stained only by the grind of life. Bills overdue. A job he didn't love. Friends he barely saw anymore. Family he hadn't called in months. Twenty-two years old and already exhausted.
He hadn't expected anything when he stepped into the crosswalk. The flash of lights. The screech of tires. The impact and that final, horrible weightlessness.
And then… nothing.
No pain.
No sound.
Just darkness—and then, slowly, a voice.
"Do you want to stay dead?"
It wasn't a question you hear in the void, not the way it sounds in dreams. No angel. No demon. Just… presence. Ancient. Cosmic. And it was not interested in comforting him.
Devin didn't speak at first. He thought he was imagining things. Shock maybe. A final flicker of consciousness before fading away forever.
But the voice waited.
Not patient. Just eternal. After what seemed
"I ask again: do you want to stay dead?"
His throat should've been dry. His body… gone. But somehow, Devin felt himself nodding. Then he stopped.
"…No."
He didn't know why he said it. Maybe it was the crushing regret of all the things he didn't do. The friends he never got to tell he loved. The younger brother who always looked up to him. The mother who still had his old drawings taped to the fridge.
"I want to live," he said. "But not like before. I want to do something that matters, no that's not right I want my life to matter."
A silence followed. Heavy and watching.
"Then we have a deal. I give you life again—not your own, but one that can shape the fate of many. In return, you will not run from pain, fear, or death. You will stand between destruction and those who cannot fight it. You will not save the world… but you will try. Even when no one thanks you. Even when you're hated for it."
"…What's the catch?" Devin asked.
"You will not remember who you were… not at first. But the moment you choose truth over comfort, action over fear, you will remember."
Devin hesitated for only a moment.
"...Deal."
And immediately it was like a tv turning off.
He woke up to the smell of something cooking.
His body was small. Too small.
The bed was unfamiliar, sheets Star Wars-themed. There were toys—action figures, building blocks, a poster of the Guardians of the Globe on the wall.
His head felt light. His heartbeat fast. He looked down at his hands—tiny, light-skinned, trembling.
A child's hands.
He stumbled toward the mirror, bare feet soft against the carpet. A child stared back. Black hair, short and messy. A scar on the chin. Freckles under wide, confused eyes.
"Marcus?" a voice called from downstairs—deep, warm, and unmistakably firm.
Memories began to flow rapidly, akin to water released from a dam, swiftly enough for him to comprehend.
After what felt like forever, Devin blinked. Marcus? That name sparked something. He recognized it. Viltrumite. Invincible. Omni-Man.
Then it hit him.
This wasn't Earth—his Earth.
This was the world of Invincible.
He was… in the body of Marcus Grayson. A child version. Seven years old. Just as tall as Mark, maybe a bit bigger. But still a kid.
His heart pounded like a drum.
Nolan's' voice came again, closer now.
"Come on, boys. I want to talk to you about something."
This is it, Devin realized.
The memory. The lore. This is where Nolan tells the fake origin of Viltrum—the peaceful lie.
He wasn't just a spectator anymore.
He was in it.
He was Marcus Grayson. The twin brother of Mark Grayson.
And something deep inside him—deeper than muscle, deeper than instinct—remembered the promise he made.
He didn't know what lay ahead. Viltrumites. Conquest. Thragg. Multiversal threats.
But he knew this:
He had a second chance.
And he wasn't going to waste it.