Chapter 1
It was a stormy night. Thunder boomed across the sky as a young man sat in front of his computer, his fingers flying over the keyboard. On the screen, Dungeon Fighter Online (DNF) blazed with action. The young man controlled his character with precision, executing a flawless sword slash to kill the boss in one move.
Immediately, he closed his eyes and pressed his hands together in a dramatic bow to the air.
"Trance 2=1, Ma Dada, please bless me with a Breath of Mist!"
His name was Luke, with the surname Lu and the given name Ke. Despite his imposing name, his luck remained as dry as toast—he was still grinding like a peasant.
He had scoured the time-space rift countless times, yet the last key part always evaded him. After finishing his prayer, Luke opened his eyes, his heart nearly stopping.
Was he hallucinating?
Under his character's feet, there it was—a Breath of Mist!
It was finally here!
Excitedly, he controlled his character to pick it up. But… it wouldn't budge.
"What the hell?" He hammered the keyboard, but the mist on the ground refused to respond.
"Am I offline? Or is this some stupid ban?"
Frustrated, Luke clutched his monitor, practically frothing at the mouth. "No way! I've been grinding for three years just to get into a raid team, and now this? God, are you messing with me?"
Outside, thunder roared as lightning illuminated his room. Suddenly, the computer screen went black, and the lights flickered out, plunging everything into darkness.
A loud bang resounded in the room, followed by the smell of burning plastic.
But Luke didn't notice any of it.
---
Where… am I?
He opened his eyes with difficulty, and an unfamiliar flood of memories poured into his brain. Disoriented, Luke's thoughts spun.
"Is this… time travel?"
Looking around, he saw himself in a tiny room with bare furnishings: just a bed. He glanced down at his hands and froze.
"Why am I so small? How old is this body? Five? Six? And… is this an orphanage?"
The original owner's memories became clearer in his mind.
He discovered that the body's name was also Luke—a six-year-old Chinese-American living in a children's welfare home in New York.
As Luke tried to make sense of the situation, the door creaked open, and a middle-aged Black woman entered the room.
Luke searched his newly acquired memories and identified her as the headmistress of the orphanage.
She smiled kindly at him. "Luke, it's time to meet your adoptive parents. We've talked about this, remember?"
She spoke in English, and Luke understood her perfectly. Apparently, he had inherited the language abilities of his body's previous owner.
Adoptive parents? Luke rifled through the memories again and realized that yes, the original six-year-old Luke had indeed agreed to be adopted by a couple.
After a brief hesitation, Luke decided to roll with it.
Being adopted and living in a home was better than staying in an orphanage. As long as the adoptive parents weren't psychos, this was probably a good thing.
He followed the headmistress through a corridor and into her office.
Inside, he saw a man and a woman—a couple in their thirties.
The man wore a suit and tie, looking slightly overweight but kind. The woman, dressed in a simple floral dress, exuded warmth.
"So, these are the people adopting me?" Luke studied them closely, and they, in turn, looked at him.
The couple seemed very satisfied with Luke.
It wasn't surprising. Six-year-old Luke looked like a little gem: clean, bright-eyed, and sharp. With a 20-year-old's soul behind those eyes, the boy seemed unusually perceptive.
The couple crouched down to his level, both smiling warmly.
"Hi, Luke. I'm Fudge," the man said gently.
"And I'm Karen," the woman added, her voice full of tenderness.
But Luke's attention was locked on the TV behind them.
A live press conference was playing on the screen. A man in his thirties looked directly into the camera and declared to a room full of reporters:
"I am Iron Man."
Luke froze.
At the same time, a dark, sinister voice echoed in his mind:
"The apostles have begun their invasion of this world. Luke, as an apostle, it's time for you to spread their glory to this realm—"
---
One year later.
Luke was seven years old now—or at least, his body was.
Standing just barely a meter tall, his malnourished frame from the orphanage had improved significantly after a year of care from his adoptive parents. He wasn't thriving yet, but he was doing much better.
His adoptive parents were middle-class. Fudge, his adoptive father, worked as a lawyer, leaving for the office during the day and returning home at night. Karen, his adoptive mother, was a full-time housewife who doted on Luke.
Luke's arrival had completed their family. They adored him, and in turn, Luke appreciated having a stable, safe home.
At the moment, Luke lay on his small bed, arms behind his head, his childish face etched with a decidedly adult expression.
Over the past year, he had come to terms with the fact that he had been reincarnated and transported to a new world.
After careful observation, Luke had confirmed something both exhilarating and terrifying.
This was the Marvel Universe.
Iron Man existed, but the Hulk hadn't appeared yet. SHIELD was in its prime. Mutants, Inhumans, and civilian heroes were starting to emerge, but the world was still relatively stable.
For now.
And yet, this realization weighed heavily on Luke.
Why?
Because in the Marvel Universe, ordinary lives were worth jack shit.
Every time a superhero showed up or aliens invaded, chaos followed. Sure, the heroes won in the end, but the collateral damage always wiped out countless regular people.
To these heroes, civilians were just the backdrop for their epic battles.
But that wasn't all. Luke knew there were even greater, more terrifying forces lurking in the shadows. Cosmic entities like the Celestials, Dormammu from the Dark Dimension, and Cytorrak from the Crimson Cosmos.
Luke, however, was just a regular guy. Before all this, he was a plain ol' otaku.
In a world filled with gods, mutants, and aliens, how could he protect himself?
And if—no, when—Thanos finally showed up and snapped his damn fingers, Luke didn't think he'd be among the lucky 50% left standing.
---
How to ensure his survival in this world had always been Luke's top concern. After much thought, he concluded that there was only one way: to make himself stronger and to keep getting stronger!
As long as he could rise beyond the category of ordinary people, gain extraordinary power, and join the ranks of the extraordinary—no, surpass them all and become the strongest—he could seize control of his own destiny.
Fortunately, he wasn't without opportunity.
It seemed he hadn't traveled through time alone. Along with him came a system, which Luke tentatively named the DNF System.
Like in the novels Luke had read, this system brimmed with potential and limitless possibilities. It could grant all sorts of treasures and abilities. In those stories, protagonists thrived thanks to systems like this.
But Luke soon discovered his DNF System wasn't as generous. It didn't allow him to get something for nothing. Instead, it demanded effort before rewarding him.
Luke didn't mind. He even found it reassuring. Hard work in exchange for rewards was natural. A system that handed out benefits freely seemed far more suspicious.
Over the past year, Luke had gained some experience with the system, thanks to another presence.
This so-called "guide" lay perched on Luke's shoulder. It was a cephalopod mollusk—an octopus, to be precise. With its short, stubby legs, it looked more like a squishy meatball than an actual octopus.
Its name was Ross, though Luke often called it "Short-Legged Ross."
Ross constantly claimed he was the incarnation of an apostle. Luke found this absurd. What kind of apostle looked like a plastic baby octopus toy? Sometimes, Luke even wondered if squeezing him would make him squeak.
Ross was a chatterbox. Over time, Luke had discovered the creature's darker side. Ross frequently said things like, "I'm here to guide you on the right path, young man." But with how often he encouraged Luke to kill random passersby, his "guidance" felt questionable.
That said, Ross's familiarity with the DNF System was undeniable. He answered nearly all of Luke's questions, which was why Luke had learned so much over the past year.
"I feel like your strength is increasing too slowly," Ross whined, lounging on Luke's shoulder. "A whole year, and you've only mastered three skills! If this keeps up, I'll forget my purpose here. My duty is to guide you. And don't forget, you have a greater mission: to spread the apostles' glory in this Marvel world!"
Ross's voice carried a sinister undertone, but his words were quick and energetic. Luke had grown immune to his constant nagging.
"Relax. My goal is survival—living here, thriving here. If spreading your so-called glory helps, then fine," Luke replied calmly.
He and Ross had debated this countless times. For Luke, survival came first. Anything else, like the system's mission, was secondary.
"Shh!" Ross suddenly hissed. "Someone's eavesdropping outside the door! Kill her! Kill her now!"
The tiny octopus latched onto Luke's neck with its stubby legs, bouncing in agitation.
Irritated, Luke pried Ross off and shoved him under a pile of books.
Three knocks sounded on the door, and a blonde, blue-eyed woman entered. She was his adoptive mother, Karen.
"It's time for dinner, honey," she said softly, smiling warmly.
"Okay, Karen." Luke hopped off the bed, his movements lively, befitting a seven-year-old child.
Karen glanced around the room, her expression curious. "Who were you talking to just now?"
Luke smiled innocently. "Just practicing a text I'm reading."
Karen chuckled, stroking his hair. Together, they headed downstairs.
Meanwhile, back in the room, beneath a pile of books, a palm-sized octopus with stubby legs wriggled, struggling to crawl out…
~~~~~~~~~~
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