A boy with white hair, dark skin, and sharp blue eyes stared at the faintly glowing screen only he could see. The text hovered quietly in the air, casting a faint reflection against his irises.
"How unfortunate… it seems I've gone static," he muttered, voice low with a hint of annoyance.
It wasn't the first time he'd said that.
Being a reincarnator wasn't as glamorous as the fanfics had made it sound. Sure, being reborn into the Marvel universe or omniverse or whatever ridiculous label it technically fell under sounded cool on paper. But living it? Living through high school again, going through classes, pretending to be normal when you weren't even technically human anymore? It was tedious.
Still, he'd admit it wasn't all bad. He was alive, something he couldn't say about his last life, which had ended before he'd even hit eighteen. So maybe it wasn't that boring. Especially when your mother happened to be Ajak.
Ajak of the Eternals. The healer. The mother figure of an immortal race who served the Celestials. And, somehow, his adoptive parent.
He didn't really understand why she'd taken him in. Maybe she'd just seen a lonely kid and decided to do what she always did, help. Or maybe she'd sensed the strange divinity buried inside him. Either way, her presence had been a constant stabilizer in his life.
She was also the main reason his Template Percentage had gone up so fast in the first place.
He didn't know much about Marvel lore, bits and pieces from a movie here, a wiki binge there, but Ajak had explained enough for him to get the basics. The Eternals constantly emitted something called Cosmic Energy. It was, in essence, the raw creative force of the universe, energy that formed stars, worlds, and life itself.
In other words, it was dangerously close to True Ether from the Nasuverse.
And for someone with a Lostbelt Zeus template integrated into their soul, being surrounded by Cosmic Energy on a daily basis was like bathing in a sea of fuel. It accelerated his assimilation exponentially.
At least, it used to.
Now, for reasons the System hadn't deigned to explain, it had stagnated.
He looked back at the hovering screen with the same blank expression he always had when he was frustrated.
Template Identified: Lostbelt Zeus [Ω-Class Machine God]
Assimilation Progress: 43.2%
Basic Assimilation: Divine Core of a Chief God – Rank C
43.2% Assimilated of Proper Human History Zeus
He stared at the lines in silence. Forty-three percent. It sounded like a lot, but in practice, it meant nothing. He was still far from even scratching the surface of that absurd level of power.
Lostbelt Zeus wasn't a god in the normal sense. So strong, so overwhelming, that the Template had been forced to segment itself into phases just so his human body wouldn't disintegrate.
First, he had to synchronize with the power of a normal Divine Spirit Zeus, lightning, divinity, and authority. Then he'd have to reach the state of the true god of Olympus, the one worshipped in Proper Human History. Only then could he approach the pinnacle, the Machine God Zeus of the Lostbelt, a being who ruled the heavens through absolute power, nigh omniscient and omnipotent.
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Forty-three percent and it just… stops."
Getting up from his bed, he exhaled through his nose, deciding to shelve that frustration for now. Stretching lazily, he made his way downstairs. The smell of something warm and familiar filled the air, and when he turned the corner, Ajak was already by the stove, flipping something on the pan with that calm, composed aura she always had.
"Ah, Jupiter, you're awake," she greeted with a small smile, gesturing toward the table. "Come, sit."
He sat down, still half in his thoughts. "Morning."
The name she'd given him, Jupiter, still stuck with him. He'd never really said it out loud to her, but sometimes he wondered what her real reason had been. The Roman interpretation of Zeus, the ruler of the Olympians. It wasn't exactly subtle. Maybe she had a sense of humor about it, or maybe it was a jab at the Olympians themselves. From what little he remembered of the Marvel universe, the Eternals and Olympians weren't exactly the best of friends.
As Ajak plated the food and sat down across from him, she looked up. "Are you going to be anywhere today?"
He had to think for a second. "Maybe? I don't know. Ororo might ask to hang out or something."
Ajak nodded, clearly content with the answer. "A friend of mine will be visiting and staying over for the week," she said, taking a sip of tea. "I'd like you on your best behavior."
Jupiter froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. Those words hit him harder than he'd admit. Best behavior? As if he wasn't always on his best behavior. The implication stung more than it should have.
He felt his pride flare for a moment, an instinctive offense building in his chest. He wanted to retort, to point out that he'd never once caused her trouble, but the look on her face reminded him who he was talking to. Ajak wasn't just his mother figure; she was one of the wisest, most disciplined beings alive. And compared to that, his irritation felt childish.
So he swallowed his pride, literally and figuratively, and just kept eating.
Ajak noticed, of course, she always did, but she didn't press. Instead, she gave a small knowing smile, the kind that said she understood far more than he ever voiced.
"Good," she said simply, turning back to her food.
He didn't respond, but under the calm surface, his thoughts wouldn't quiet. Forty-three percent. A stalled template. Ajak's energy was constantly radiating cosmic power that should've helped him grow, but now it wasn't working.
And now someone new was coming to stay. A friend of Ajak's.
Jupiter's eyes flicked toward her. She seemed too calm, too casual.
"Who's the friend?" he finally asked.
Ajak's lips curved slightly, the corner of her mouth lifting in that mysterious way that always made him feel like she was ten steps ahead. "You'll see," she said.
He sighed again, leaning back in his chair. "That's not ominous at all."
Ajak only smiled in amusement, her calm confidence making it impossible to tell if she was teasing or serious. "If you do end up going with Ororo, tell her not to keep you long," she added with a knowing look. Then her smile shifted into a smirk. "I wouldn't want children running around too early."
Jupiter froze mid-chew, his jaw tightening. "Our relationship isn't like that," he said flatly.
Ajak didn't even glance up, just hummed, clearly entertained by his reaction. "Of course it isn't."
He exhaled through his nose, annoyed, but chose not to rise to the bait. He didn't need to Ajak had already won that exchange the moment she smirked. Unfortunately, she wasn't entirely wrong. Even if he found her interesting, he wasn't the kind of person who could give anyone what they deserved.
He glanced at the clock. Late morning. He had things to think about, plans to make. Sitting here, eating breakfast, made him feel restless. The static screen from earlier still lingered in the back of his mind, haunting him like a stalled heartbeat.
He needed to increase his template. He needed progress.
He didn't know what version of Marvel he was actually in, and that uncertainty alone made his skin crawl. The Marvel omniverse wasn't a single timeline, it was infinite, layered with countless disasters, apocalypses, and eldritch nightmares pretending to be stories. For all he knew, this could be the universe with the Hunger Virus or one of the collapsing multiverses where even gods died screaming.
He wasn't going to wait around for something to kill him again.
"Maybe I'll become one of those heroes like Thor," he murmured without really meaning to, more to himself than anything.
But Ajak heard. Her movements paused. When she turned her gaze on him, it was sharp, her tone carrying that quiet authority that made even gods listen. "What did you say, Jupiter?"
"Huh?" He blinked and looked up, caught. "Nothing. Just talking to myself."
She set his plate in front of him with a faint frown. "You should be careful what paths you speak into existence. Heroism isn't as glamorous as it looks."
Jupiter picked up his fork, staring down at the food for a moment before answering. "Yeah," he muttered, "I know."
And he did know. He wasn't some naive fool who thought heroism was all glory and admiration. If anything, he understood it better than most, because in a way, he'd lived it. The template within him came from a god whose lineage had spawned countless heroes and tragedies. Heracles, for example his so-called son, depending on the myth, had been a paragon of heroism and suffering all at once. A man who'd murdered his own family in a frenzy driven by divine madness. A pawn in the endless cycle of fate, punishment, and divine pride.
The irony wasn't lost on him.
He scoffed quietly under his breath and started eating. "I'd rather not," he said simply, voice flat, but his mind wasn't nearly as calm as his tone.
The idea of becoming a hero still lingered, circling his thoughts like a persistent itch he couldn't scratch. It wasn't about saving people that had never been what motivated him. Heroes got stronger. That was the truth of it. They fought monsters, cosmic entities, gods, and beings that defied reason. They gained artifacts, recognition, and influence.
And influence mattered.
If he became someone like Thor or Carol Danvers, someone known, someone powerful, he could leverage that influence. He could gain access to power sources and phenomena that most beings could only dream of. Maybe that would finally be enough to push his assimilation beyond the plateau he'd hit.
But to do that, he'd have to play the role of a hero. Pretend.
The thought made him grimace.
Pretending to care. Pretending to fight for ideals he didn't believe in. Pretending that he wasn't just another being chasing strength and security in a universe that didn't care if he lived or died. He'd never been that person. Not in his past life, and not in this one. Even when he'd done something good, there had always been a reason behind it: a reward, an advantage, or at least a sense of control.
Still… the idea stayed.
Thor. The god of thunder. Revered, feared, admired. The very concept of what a god should be in mortal eyes. The same reverence Zeus once commanded before humanity moved on and forgot.
Was that what he wanted? To be worshiped again?
He paused mid-bite, his expression unreadable as he stared down at his food.
Was it narcissism? A desire to be adored, to feel superior? Or was it something deeper, a longing for acknowledgment? For his true existence to mean something beyond the role of an adopted son in a quiet house, pretending to be human?
After finishing his food, Jupiter stood up and stretched. "Alright, see you after school, ma," he said, leaning down to kiss Ajak's forehead before heading toward the door.
Ajak looked up from her tea with a faint, motherly smile. "Try not to get into trouble," she said, her tone gentle but with that knowing edge that always made him feel like she already knew he would.
He smirked slightly. "No promises."
She shook her head, amused, and waved him off as he stepped outside. The air was cool, sunlight spilling over the horizon as the neighborhood came to life. It was a normal morning, almost too normal, the kind that made him feel like he was wasting potential every time he walked to school like an ordinary teenager.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, absently scrolling through the news. The first headline that caught his eye showed a blurry photo of Ghost Spider, mid-kick, slamming some guy dressed like a rhinoceros into the pavement.
"Ghost Spider stops Rhino in downtown Brooklyn," the caption read.
He stared at the image for a moment, tilting his head slightly. Even through the mask, there was something magnetic about her. Confident, composed, graceful in motion. Her figure didn't hurt either.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. If he'd had the mentality of the original Zeus, this world would have been in serious trouble. The thought alone made him shake his head, half amused, half disturbed. The last thing he needed was to inherit that side of Zeus's personality.
He sighed and locked his phone, slipping it back into his pocket. "Good thing I'm not him," he muttered, starting down the sidewalk again.
The walk to school was uneventful, the kind of monotony that blurred together after a while. The chatter of other students filled the streets, cars passed by, and the sound of music drifted faintly from someone's earbuds nearby. It was all so… ordinary.
By the time he reached the school gates, his mind had already drifted back to the template. Forty-three percent. Still static. Still mocking him. The cosmic energy Ajak produced had helped before, but now it had gone quiet, almost like the system itself was waiting for something.
He pushed the thought aside as he entered the classroom, dropping into his seat near the window. The teacher hadn't arrived yet, and the usual background noise of half-awake students filled the room. He rested his chin on his hand, staring out the window as the morning sun cut through the glass.
The day passed in a blur of lectures, dull conversations, and the faint tapping of pencils against desks. By lunch, he'd tuned most of it out, barely responding when one of his classmates asked if he wanted to join them outside.
He declined with a lazy wave, staying seated, watching the clouds drift by instead.