In a void-like dimension, Damian Cross lounged with a sly grin, watching Valon and his crew retreat safely under the Saint Lord's cover. Meanwhile, Captain George Stacy's raid on the wedding venue had failed miserably—he was so furious, he nearly flipped an entire banquet table.
"Valon pulled it off perfectly this time," Damian muttered with amusement."An elegant, well-dressed criminal—this'll make the headlines for sure."
"Looks like a big harvest is coming my way. Not bad… not bad at all."
Damian leaned back, utterly satisfied.
Two months earlier, Damian had fallen asleep on Earth—and woke up somewhere else entirely.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself trapped in a strange, shoebox-sized space. The walls weren't solid; it was like being surrounded by invisible air barriers.
Over time, he figured out where he was: a dimensional rift caught between existence and non-existence.
Though the space was tiny, Damian had full control of it. He was the dimension's supreme ruler, its master—much like Nightmare ruled the Dream Dimension, Mephisto ruled Hell, or Dormammu reigned over the Dark Dimension.
Sure, his domain was small, but its nature made him a Dimensional God, just like them.
He discovered that whenever he interfered with the real world, he gained a strange energy. This power, which could expand his dimension or be shaped into abilities or constructs, he called Essence Shards (玉).
Naturally, Earth—the one full of superheroes and supervillains—was the perfect target to harvest massive amounts of these shards.
The problem? He wasn't strong enough to breach the barriers of Kamar-Taj's three Sanctums and force his way into Earth directly.
But because Damian existed between being and not being, he could quietly leak his influence through thin cracks in reality. That loophole was his biggest advantage.
So he began a grand experiment:
He reached across realities and summoned beings from other dimensions, calling them Players, his "Avatars of the Void".
He split them into three factions based on their personalities:
Black Faction – "The Dominion Foundation"
Red Faction – "The Primal Returners"
White Faction – "The Earthborn"
These three factions would constantly clash, each action twisting reality's fate. Every ripple they caused fed Damian more Essence Shards.
Most shards he kept for himself, a small portion he returned to the Players as rewards, creating a "system" that guided their actions like a game interface.
Valon and his crew were some of these Players, currently aligned with the Red Faction (Primal Returners).
The "Red Ruby Credits" they collected could be exchanged for items from their home dimensions or traded for essentials—like in-game currency.
Shard colors represented each faction's type of Essence: Red, Black, White. Trade only worked within factions, not across them.
To keep their presence secret, Damian even seeded Earth's history with fragments of lore, inserting subtle records about these three mysterious factions in forgotten ancient texts. Anyone digging deep enough might stumble across hints of the truth.
Suddenly, Damian's attention snapped to Hell's Kitchen, Manhattan. Something interesting was stirring there.
Hell's Kitchen, New York.
At a small private detective office, Jessica Jones yawned loudly, rubbing her sleepy eyes.
Her stomach growled in protest. She realized she hadn't eaten all day.
"Long day. I deserve a decent dinner tonight," she muttered, standing and heading out.
Recently, a new restaurant had opened in the area, run by a father-and-son duo.
The food there wasn't just good—it was divine, the kind of cooking that made every other meal taste like garbage in comparison.
Even after eating there for a month straight, Jessica had never grown tired of a single dish. A single bite made her feel like she was floating in bliss.
This was real cooking, far above anything else in Hell's Kitchen.
Meanwhile, in the restaurant's backyard, angry voices and bizarre laughter echoed.
"This tastes awful!"
"These flavors don't even go together!"
"This is… catastrophic…"
"Squid tentacles with peanut butter? Are you kidding me?!"
Jessica froze at the entrance, hearing the chaos inside. She glanced toward the empty counter, hesitated, then quietly turned to leave.
She knew this pattern well—Sora Yukihira, the young chef-in-training, had probably whipped up another one of his "experimental nightmare dishes" again.
Sometimes he tested these cursed combinations on unlucky regulars.
And when the dish was bad, it wasn't just bad—it was traumatizing.
Jessica had made the mistake of tasting one once. She'd had nightmares afterward.
Lost in thought, she didn't notice Sora suddenly popping up and shoving something into her mouth.
"Quick, try this one! It's so bad it's funny!" he said with a bright grin.
Jessica gagged, doubled over, clutching her stomach. The flavor was horrifying, like being strangled by a giant octopus tentacle.
A faint text prompt flickered in Sora's vision:
[Jessica tasted 'Nightmare Dish.' White Shards +1]
Success! His eyes lit up. This was his latest discovery—he could earn small amounts of White Essence Shards by making people sample his disgusting creations.
Jessica rinsed her mouth desperately, glaring at him.
"For the love of God, don't ever make me eat that again! I'll have nightmares!"
"Yeah, yeah, got it," Sora replied half-heartedly, already thinking about his next experiment.
Not feeding her weird dishes?
Impossible.