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Chapter 1 — The Beginning of an Error
The city breathed in noise — engines growling, neon signs flickering like dying stars, and people moving in mechanical rhythm.
Among the crowd walked Sam William, twenty-eight, a software developer with nothing extraordinary about him — except for the endless web of imagination that filled his head.
He rubbed his eyes after another exhausting day of debugging. "Man… I wish I could be reincarnated like in those isekai novels," he muttered, half-smiling to himself. "Y'know, wake up in another world, get some cool powers, maybe live without deadlines for once…"
The streetlights buzzed overhead as a truck turned the corner behind him — its driver distracted, its speed unforgiving.
3... 2... 1...
BAM!
The world went silent.
No heroic act.
No last-minute miracle.
No grand speech.
Just a flash of pain, a metallic crunch — and then, nothing.
---
When Sam's vision returned, he wasn't in pain. Instead, he found himself in a study room straight out of a comic artist's dream — wood-paneled walls, floating sketchbooks, and a desk cluttered with glowing ink pens. Every page showed flickering scenes: the Avengers, X-Men, galaxies burning and reforming.
Across the room sat a man — ageless, calm, his eyes shimmering like galaxies. He wore a white shirt, sipping coffee from a mug that read "Plot Twist."
"...So," Sam began hesitantly, "judging by the fact that I can still think after being flattened by a truck, I'm guessing I'm dead."
The man smiled faintly. "Indeed. And you guessed the next part too. I am R.O.B. — Random Omnipotent Being."
Sam blinked. "Wait, seriously? That's real?"
"Oh, very real," R.O.B. replied, stirring his coffee. "And since you died in a particularly uninspired way, I'm offering you a chance to live again — in your favorite universe. The Marvel Cinematic Universe. But not quite the one you know — a slightly altered AU, shaped by your choices."
Sam's jaw dropped. "You mean I actually get to—?"
R.O.B. interrupted, raising a finger. "Yes, yes, reincarnation, powers, adventures — all that. But there are rules. You get one wish, and it can't directly give you powers or items. And after that, you'll get a lottery that determines your starting ability."
Sam crossed his arms. "Alright, hit me. What's the lottery look like?"
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The Lottery of Fate
A glowing wheel materialized in midair, spinning with blinding speed. Names and symbols flickered across it — artifacts, abilities, cosmic sparks. Each possibility hummed with potential.
It began to slow.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
The first stop:
Forge's Power — Invention Intuition.
The genius of an X-Man who could invent anything he imagined — the mind of a creator who could turn ideas into miracles.
The wheel spun once more, slower this time, until it stopped again on:
Empty Energy Dimension.
Sam frowned slightly. "That sounds... vague."
R.O.B. leaned forward. "It's exactly what it says. A pocket dimension bound to your soul — yours alone. You may fill it with only one type of energy, and once chosen, that energy remains permanent. Fill it to capacity, and it regenerates endlessly."
He paused, his tone growing serious. "Initially, it can store energy equal to one year of electricity for ten households. Not much. But once fully realized, it becomes infinite — provided you meet the conditions."
Sam's curiosity flared. "Conditions?"
"One: it must be your own energy. Two: you can't change its type later. And three: you must fill it completely once before it can regenerate. After that, its potential depends on your growth."
Sam grinned. "So... basically, my own personal power core."
"Precisely."
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The Wish
R.O.B. crossed his arms. "Now, about your one wish. Remember, no powers or weapons."
Sam thought hard. The wish could shape his entire life. He could ask for safety, wealth, influence — but instead, he smirked.
"I want Kang the Conqueror to stay free until the endgame of the universe."
R.O.B. raised an eyebrow. "You want to keep a time-traveling tyrant alive? Why?"
Sam shrugged. "Every great story needs chaos. Besides… what's the fun in peace?"
R.O.B. chuckled, shaking his head. "You truly are a mad mortal. Fine. Wish granted."
The air rippled like ink in water. Pages of the comic sketches peeled off the walls, swirling around Sam as the universe bent inward.
"Your new life begins in the Marvel Universe," R.O.B.'s voice echoed as the light engulfed him.
"Born in 1972, orphaned young, eighteen years old by the time the story starts — the year is 1990. Your name... is now Leo."
The light swallowed him whole.
---
When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on a narrow bed in a cheap orphanage room. The ceiling fan creaked above him. His body felt different — younger, leaner. On a nearby wall hung a faded calendar: January, 1990.
He sat up, heart pounding, and stared at his reflection in a cracked mirror.
A new face.
A new life.
A new world.
He whispered, almost to himself, "Alright… MCU. Let's see what kind of story we can write."
The flickering bulb overhead sparked once — almost as if the universe winked back.
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End of Chapter 1
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