Chapter 1: From Fanboy to Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist... and System?

Isaiah Lee wasn't your typical teenager. Sure, he went to high school, struggled with calculus (who didn't?), and had a crippling addiction to caffeine-fueled all-nighters. But unlike most of his peers, Isaiah's nights weren't spent chasing girls or partying. They were spent immersed in the vibrant, chaotic world of Marvel Comics.

He knew the intricacies of the Infinity Stones better than he knew the layout of his own house. He could recite the origins of every major hero and villain, debate the merits of different Iron Man armors for hours, and had a meticulously curated collection of action figures, comics, and posters that would make any collector weep with envy. His room, affectionately dubbed "The Sanctum" by his bemused parents, was a testament to his devotion.

Tony Stark, Iron Man, was his absolute favorite. The sheer audacity of a man who built a suit of armor in a cave with a box of scraps! The genius, the wit, the swagger – Isaiah idolized it all. He devoured every comic, watched every movie, and even attempted (and failed spectacularly) to build his own repulsor gauntlet in the garage, much to his dad's chagrin.

"You know, you could spend this energy on your actual homework," his mom would often say, shaking her head with a fond smile as she surveyed the wreckage of his latest "experiment."

"But Mom," Isaiah would protest, holding up a dog-eared copy of Iron Man: Extremis, "this is research! I'm practically studying engineering!"

His parents just exchanged knowing looks. They were used to his "research."

His life was ordinary, but filled with the extraordinary adventures of fictional heroes. He dreamt of one day meeting Stan Lee, of somehow contributing to the Marvel universe, of… well, he never dared to dream of actually being a hero. That was the realm of fantasy.

His reality was far less exciting. School, homework, the occasional awkward interaction with a girl, and the constant, gnawing feeling that he was meant for something more. He just didn't know what.

Then, one rainy Tuesday, everything changed.

He was walking home from school, headphones blasting the Iron Man soundtrack, lost in his own world as usual. He didn't see the car speeding through the red light. He didn't hear the screech of tires. All he felt was a blinding flash of pain, a deafening roar, and then… nothing.

Darkness. Then, a dizzying sensation of falling, spinning, twisting. Colors blurred, sounds warped, and a searing headache threatened to split his skull open. He felt like he was being ripped apart and put back together, but the pieces weren't quite fitting right.

When he finally opened his eyes, it wasn't to the sterile white of a hospital room, as he'd half-expected. Instead, he was staring at a ridiculously opulent ceiling, adorned with intricate carvings and a chandelier that probably cost more than his family's house.

He sat up, his head pounding, and took in his surroundings. A massive four-poster bed, a walk-in closet the size of his bedroom, a state-of-the-art sound system, and… a mirror.

He stared at his reflection, his heart hammering in his chest. Gone was the lanky, bespectacled face of Isaiah Lee. Staring back at him was a younger, sharper, undeniably handsome version of… Robert Downey Jr.

Specifically, a young Robert Downey Jr., circa Iron Man. The hair, the cocky smirk, the glint of mischievous intelligence in his eyes… It was unmistakable.

"What… the… hell?" he whispered, his voice cracking with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

He stumbled out of bed, his legs feeling strangely unfamiliar, and made his way to a nearby desk. It was cluttered with blueprints, half-disassembled gadgets, and… a holographic display showing schematics for something that looked suspiciously like an arc reactor.

His mind raced, trying to make sense of the impossible. He'd read enough comics, seen enough movies, to know what this meant. Transmigration. Reincarnation. Whatever you wanted to call it, he was no longer Isaiah Lee. He was Tony Stark.

A wave of panic washed over him. He was Tony Stark. The genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist who would one day become Iron Man. He knew the story, he knew the timeline. Afghanistan. Obadiah Stane. The Ten Rings. The Mark I armor built in a cave. The betrayal. The rise of Iron Monger. The formation of the Avengers. Thanos. The Snap.

He knew it all. And he knew the burden, the responsibility, the sheer weight of the future that now rested on his young, inexperienced shoulders. He was supposed to save the world. Multiple times.

He slumped back onto the bed, overwhelmed. He, Isaiah Lee, the Marvel fanboy, was now the linchpin of the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe… except, this didn't feel like the MCU he knew. There was a subtle… wrongness to it, a sense of unfamiliarity that he couldn't quite place.

He was still grappling with this existential crisis when a small, blue box materialized in his vision, accompanied by a cheerful, almost annoyingly upbeat sound.

[Ding!]

[Welcome, Host, to the Gamer System!]