[Mission: Annihilate the Marvel Cinematic Universe]
[Initial Item: Zombie Virus Serum]
[Condition: 99% of humanity on Earth must mutate into zombies]
[Reward: Reality Return Portal Fragment — 1/7]
[Please strive to destroy the world, Reincarnator #10087: Marcus Vale]
---
'How did it come to this?'
Marcus Vale rubbed his aching temples, trying to recall what he could've done to deserve something so absurd. The beginning, as it turned out, was laughably simple.
A strange message had suddenly popped up on his computer screen one night:
[Do you wish to protect this world? Or destroy it? DEFEND / DESTROY?]
Ordinarily, Marcus would have just clicked the red X in the corner like always.
But for some reason—maybe curiosity, maybe a lapse in judgment—his finger pressed "DESTROY."
And that single click changed everything.
Now, two syringes filled with a sapphire-blue liquid lay silently in his palm. There was no doubt in his mind—these were what the so-called System had mentioned: the Zombie Virus Serum.
As he examined them, a voice echoed in his head like a mechanical announcement:
[Name: Zombie Virus Serum]
[Effects:]
1. Injection: Instantly restructures all biological tissue within a living organism.
Small chance to mutate into a Virus Progenitor.
Moderate chance to become a Special Infected.
High chance to become a Regular Zombie.
2. Airborne Spread: When released into the air, the virus spreads within a five-kilometer radius, infecting all humans inside the area.
Infected will mutate into regular zombies within four hours.
[Note: I know what you're thinking—but trust me, your luck isn't that good.]
---
"Just with these two syringes, I'm supposed to destroy an entire world?" Marcus muttered, running a hand through his hair. "This system must be out of its mind."
From the sound of it, there wouldn't be any choice in the upcoming missions either.
Destroying the world wasn't just the first step—it was the only path.
He laughed bitterly. "You're asking someone who's never even seen real blood to kill seven billion people—including superheroes?"
Still, one phrase in the system message caught his attention:
"Reality Return Portal Fragment — 1/7."
If he destroyed seven worlds, he could go back to reality.
That faint spark of hope was enough to keep him from collapsing completely—but not enough to comfort him.
Marcus knew the Marvel universe well enough. Even if he'd never been a hardcore fan, he'd watched every movie.
To destroy this world, he'd have to face not just the Avengers and X-Men, but also gods and monsters alike.
Zombies against superhumans? A joke.
One Hulk could probably tear through seven billion zombies single-handedly.
---
"Hopeless," Marcus murmured, staring up at the sky that looked so much like the one from his home.
He smiled faintly, bitterly.
No family. No friends.
No one to share this burden with.
All alone in a strange world, carrying the command to destroy it.
What kind of cruel joke was this?
---
He stepped out of the narrow alley where he'd first arrived and found himself facing a dazzling city skyline. Neon lights reflected off glass buildings, advertisements in English flashed all around—but somehow, he could read them all effortlessly.
'System magic, no doubt.'
Then—
Something cold and hard pressed against the back of his head.
"Don't move," a man's voice growled behind him. "Hand over everything valuable."
Marcus froze.
Apparently, the rule of worlds with superheroes still applied—where there are heroes, there's always crime.
He sighed inwardly. "Seriously? I just got here."
Feeling the unmistakable shape of a gun barrel against his skull, Marcus slowly raised both hands.
"Buddy," he said calmly, his voice now fluent American English—thanks to the System.
"You picked the wrong guy. I'm broke."
The mugger ignored him, patting him down roughly until he found the two syringes.
"What's this?" the man asked, staring at the shimmering blue liquid inside. It was mesmerizing, unnaturally beautiful. "Hey, fucker, I asked you a question!"
Marcus smiled faintly. "It's used like this."
Before the thug could react, Marcus spun around, knocked the gun aside, and slammed his fist straight into the man's nose.
Caught completely off guard, the mugger screamed, blood spurting as he stumbled backward, stars flashing before his eyes.
A small, glowing text flashed in Marcus's vision:
[Your punch dealt 11 physical damage (11% total HP). Critical hit to the head. Target is stunned and bleeding lightly.]
Marcus didn't stop.
He grabbed the falling syringes midair and sprinted down the street. Those serums were his only hope—he couldn't lose them.
Behind him, the mugger recovered quickly, blew a shrill whistle, and shouted,
"Get him! Don't let that bastard get away!"
From the dark corners of the street, dozens of men in identical white jackets appeared, flooding toward Marcus like a pack of wolves.
He cursed under his breath and darted into a narrow alleyway.
It was dangerous, yes—but his only chance at survival.
Gunshots echoed behind him, the sound of bullets clanging off brick and metal as sparks lit up the dark.
Then pain exploded in his thigh.
A bullet tore through his leg, sending him crashing to the ground.
Blood poured freely, his muscles twitching uncontrollably as he dragged himself toward a wall for cover.
The sound of footsteps grew louder.
Marcus let out a breathless laugh, resting his head back against the wall.
"So this is how it ends, huh?"
"Gotcha, cunt!"
A few gang members rounded the corner, sneering when they saw him lying there, helpless and bleeding.
Without hesitation, they raised their guns and pulled the trigger.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
And the world faded to black.