Half an hour later, Robert stepped out of the abandoned factory, leaving behind several corpses of the gangsters with twisted faces.
There were no visible wounds on their bodies—they had died from sheer terror.
In just thirty minutes, the gang had been utterly drained by the Demon King, left with not even a drop of soul energy.
Robert strolled casually out of the slums. He seemed very familiar with San Francisco's streets. Perhaps it was the darkest hour before dawn, and even the scavengers out doing their "zero-dollar shopping" had gone to sleep. He didn't run into any other targets along the way.
"Good thing there were no air patrols."
Fisherman Robert hailed another taxi.
This time, the driver was an honest elderly man who safely brought Robert to a manor on the west side of San Francisco, facing the Pacific Ocean.
Yes—safely.
The gatekeeper of the estate seemed to have expected Robert, waiting throughout the night.
The manor wasn't particularly large—less than three acres. Compared to those massive estates spanning dozens or even hundreds of acres, it was unimpressive.
Once inside the castle-like main residence, the front doors shut behind him. The owner of the estate jogged up respectfully and bowed:
"Master, you've finally arrived."
None of the other servants were surprised. They all bowed to Robert, their expressions dull, movements robotic.
"We've prepared a meal for you."
"Please, come inside."
A servant stepped forward to take Robert's luggage and coat.
He removed his glasses, slicked back his hair with gel, and his hairstyle transformed.
There had always been a rumor within the Divine Spear Bureau:
"With glasses, he's a gentleman. Without them… he's not even human."
As Robert ascended the stairs, his facial structure subtly shifted. Even his body grew slightly taller and broader.
Eventually, he took on the exact appearance of the manor's owner.
This wasn't transformation—it was restoration.
This… was his true form.
Only four people in the world could connect this face with his previous disguise: Director Miguel, his direct supervisor, and Robert's parents.
Everyone else in the Divine Spear Bureau, even those who had worked with him, had only seen his intentionally altered appearance.
Since joining the Bureau ten years ago, Robert had gradually reshaped his appearance to match someone else—subtly and consistently—until the transformation became natural and undetectable.
Meanwhile, a double with his real face had come to San Francisco five years earlier and laid down roots.
Now, Robert was simply reclaiming that identity.
He entered a study upstairs with his doppelgänger. Once inside, the double closed the door. Robert tapped the back of his left hand—there, invisible to anyone else, was a demonic sigil.
Thick black mist once again billowed forth. A massive figure emerged: pitch-black body, glowing red eyes, curved horns, and a black trident—an image straight from Western demonology.
"Do you want to get rich? Do you want overnight fame? Looking for love? Want eternal youth?"
"Thirty years east, thirty years west—never underestimate the poor!"
"Crush the heavens! Shatter the skies!"
"Hehehe... Give me your soul!"
…
As the demon's enormous mouth kept flapping, spewing dramatic one-liners, Robert's expression darkened. He raised his hand and slapped it.
SMACK!
The towering demon instantly shrank into a little black ball less than 30 cm tall. It had three slits on its round body—two eyes and a mouth.
Floating beside it were two even smaller black orbs, acting as hands. In its right "hand" was a miniature trident.
Two arrow-shaped horns stuck out from the top of its head.
"Boo hoo hoo…"
Its eyes turned into pools of tears, drops of sadness trailing down.
'Master, you hit me…'
Unless Robert allowed it, no one else could see or hear the demon.
"Alright, open your mouth."
Looking extremely aggrieved, the demon suddenly opened wide, and a rectangular glowing doorway appeared in the study.
Robert stepped in, followed by his double.
Once inside, Robert bent down and picked up a tape recorder, turning it off to finally end the demon's string of bizarre dialogue.
The voice hadn't come from the demon itself, but from the recorder—like Bumblebee from Transformers.
The demon wasn't mute, but it could only make simple sounds like:
"Boo hoo," "Eek eek," "Pa pa pa," etc.
Behind the door was a vast, unknown space cloaked in darkness. Only the entrance area was lit, revealing rows of scientific and industrial equipment.
The double walked to a nearby glass pod, stripped naked, and stepped into a mysterious fluid. In moments, its muscles and bones began to dissolve, reverting to the base material used to make it.
Robert walked over to a breeding chamber and opened it. Out stepped a new artificial human—bearing the same appearance Robert used on the flight.
It staggered slightly at first but quickly adapted.
"Good. From now on, your name is Zack Howard. You'll take care of the flowers and plants here."
At that exact moment, across the ocean in the Circular Fortress, Director Miguel suddenly sneezed. His hand slipped, snipping the wrong orchid leaf.
His big eyes narrowed to slits, his features scrunched in pain.
"Damn Robert. Even when he's gone, he still torments me!"
Out of nowhere, he just happened to think of that infuriating man.
The passport Robert used for his flight was under the name Zack Howard, a doppelgänger . The identity had a fully traceable background. According to records, he had come to San Francisco for a landscaping job arranged through a friend.
After "Zack Howard, a doppelgänger " left, Robert moved deeper into the facility.
The machinery around him had a crude, industrial look, completely out of sync with modern designs—steampunk in style.
Yet this outdated tech could create artificial humans far beyond today's scientific reach.
At the center of the lab, Robert found three display cases:
One held a severed arm.The second contained a huge, forked brain.The third... a pair of cotton underwear printed with cartoon designs.
Robert, now 28, had initially assumed he was simply reborn into another world. He planned to use his knowledge of future events to make a fortune—set a few hundred financial "small goals."
Then, one day in middle school, he saw a black-and-white photo in his history textbook—captioned:
"Captain America."
He froze.
If it were just a comic panel, he might've doubted it. But appearing boldly in a school textbook? Even the most delusional fanboy couldn't pull that off.
And the man in the photo? The more he looked, the more he resembled Chris Evans.
No country would be dumb enough to treat an actor like a historical figure—and print him in textbooks.
That's when it hit Robert—he was in the Marvel Universe.
And not just any Marvel Universe—the cinematic one.
Which meant that in 2018, a certain purple cosmic birth-control officer would snap his fingers and wipe out half of all life.
So even if Robert made billions in the future, he'd still be gambling his life on a 50/50 chance of survival.
How could he live like that?
Knowing the day of your death was coming… waiting every day…
Worst of all, what if you died and didn't even get to spend your money?
That's torture.
Right then and there, Robert knew—he had to defy fate.
And at that exact moment, his cheat activated.
He gained a little demon—
A demon that could travel across worlds and bring back "souvenirs."
(End of Chapter)