Mutants in the X-Men universe derive their powers from their life force. This principle is evident in how Magneto nearly dies when his energy is drained by an electromagnetic generator, or how Rogue's touch can be fatal to ordinary humans. Their abilities are not just genetic quirks—they're intimately tied to vitality itself.
In another world, the power of the Saints—those who wield the force known as "Cosmo"—follows a similar logic. Their strength is also a transformation of life energy into combat power. However, unlike mutants, Saints are trained to channel their life force through "Star Fate Nodes," connecting themselves to the constellations. This allows them to draw upon the infinite energy of the stars, replenishing what they burn in battle. That's why they can unleash their Cosmo without restraint. When a Saint traces the path of their constellation before launching a powerful attack, it's not just for dramatic flair—it's a ritual to align themselves with celestial forces and absorb more power.
To wield Cosmo effectively, a Saint must have a body tough enough to withstand its explosive force, and a sharpened sixth sense—often called "heart-sense" or "self-sense." This mental discipline allows them to control the surge of power, preventing waste or catastrophic backlash.
Jack Harper, however, had none of these safeguards when his Cosmo was forcibly ignited in battle. He simply burned through his life force in one violent burst, unleashing tenfold energy in a single strike—enough to kill, but also enough to destroy himself.
Had Jack not already undergone mutant transformation—his life force partially converted and stabilized within his body—he would've been torn apart by the recoil. Even so, the punch drained his ice-based powers and vitality completely. Death should have been inevitable.
But fate had other plans.
Inside Jack Harper, another force stirred.
The cursed power of the demonic sword: Frostmourne.
Originally a tormenting presence, the icy necromantic energy of Frostmourne had partially fused with Jack during his mutation. Though not fully absorbed, it had crystallized into a core near his heart—a pearl of power that became the nest of his ice abilities. The evil frost energy and Jack's own mutant ice powers, both rooted in the same elemental domain, didn't clash. Instead, they intertwined, feeding and transforming each other in a cycle of death and rebirth.
This power wasn't truly Jack's. Even when he burned his Cosmo, it remained dormant.
But the violent surge of energy during his forced ignition destabilized the pearl. As Jack's life force and abilities drained away, the sudden vacuum shattered the core.
And the cursed frost flooded his body.
A low, droning hum thundered in Jack Harper's ears. It felt as if he were once again standing before Magneto's mutation-inducing electromagnetic machine, reliving the radiation surge that had altered him. But this time, the visions were different. No longer ancient primal memories—now it was a kaleidoscope of fantasy realms: Titans, Burning Legions, Orcs, Death Knights, Lich Kings, and the shadowy kingdom of Lordaeron. These flickered through his mind like a chaotic reel of light and shadow.
Pale blue mist rose from his collapsed body, and frost spread across the ruined statues nearby. If not for the angle shielding him from the others' view, his transformation would have been impossible to hide from the other Reincarnators.
Frostmourne—the infamous cursed blade from Warcraft III and World of Warcraft—was originally forged by the demon Kil'jaeden to imprison the traitorous Lich King Ner'zhul. Later, it seduced Prince Arthas into becoming a Death Knight. The sword's power was immense: it could awaken undead dragons, summon legions of the dead, and devour souls to grow stronger.
Unlike Jack's mutant ice powers, which were fueled by life force, Frostmourne's energy was soul-based. That's why it lingered in his body even after his resurrection in the Reincarnation Space, continuing to torment him. Though both were ice-aligned, their origins were fundamentally different.
Yet soul energy isn't entirely supernatural—it's a form of condensed energy wave. Jack's powers weren't naturally awakened either; they were triggered by two separate electromagnetic mutations. From the beginning, his abilities resonated with Frostmourne's necrotic frost, not as one, but as complementary forces.
Now, with his life force depleted, Frostmourne's energy seeped into his body inch by inch. It didn't restore his vitality directly, but it mutated his flesh, spawning a new kind of hybrid life force.
The transformation was eerily similar to Arthas's descent into undeath. Jack lay sprawled across the Statue of Liberty, his half-lidded eyes glinting with a faint, ghostly blue.
And in the Book of Reincarnation, his profile quietly changed.
Name: Jack Harper
Class: Adventurer
Battle Rating: Iron Tier – Lower Rank
Base Attributes:
Strength (Physical Power): 73/200
Agility (Neural Response): 75/200
Intelligence (Cognitive Capacity): 137/200
Vitality (Cellular Activity): 134/200
Bloodline: Unknown Mutation
Abilities:
Unknown Mutation Mind Lake Projection (Unranked): Focus to project a mental avatar within one's inner world, allowing partial control over dreams.
Equipment: None
His original mutant ice bloodline had been overwritten by the new mutation. Each of his core stats had increased by fifty points. The full extent of his new powers remained unknown.
Had the Lyra Squad returned and seen Jack's transformation, they might have risked punishment just to kill him again. But convinced he was dead, none of them dared climb the now half-frozen, crumbling Statue of Liberty.
So Jack Harper lay quietly atop the monument for two hours. By the time the NYPD arrived, the fifteen-day mission window was nearly over.
With his body restored through mutation, Jack shattered the ice encasing him. His eyes glowed blue as he growled:
"Eight-Winged Lyra… Takashi… your time is coming."
His emotions, dulled by ten years in an icy prison, had always been calm and detached. But this time, the forced Cosmo ignition, the mental manipulation by the Lyra Saint, and the invasion of Frostmourne's power had cracked the seal on his soul. And the emotion most compatible with Frostmourne—hatred—erupted like a storm.
The Reincarnation Space was a realm of infinite mystery. If it could recreate entire worlds from movies and games, then adjusting the flow of time between dimensions was hardly surprising.
Jack Harper had spent fifteen days in the X-Men world. Yet when he returned to reality, only a day had passed.
He had feared that Brandon Caswell—his killer and a senior Reincarnator—would be waiting for him at the exact spot of his death. But the Reincarnation Space had planned carefully. Instead of reappearing at the riverside, Jack materialized in a secluded forest over a kilometer away. No blinding light, no dramatic portal—just a quiet return, hidden from prying eyes.
Cautiously, Jack crept back toward the riverbank. Sure enough, a dozen thugs loitered nearby, clearly waiting for someone.
"Not Caswell himself… Does he have henchmen in the real world?" Jack mused. "If he can return to reality freely, even with limited powers, it's not hard to imagine him building a criminal network."
Jack retreated silently, unnoticed.
"It seems the Reincarnation Space avoids witnesses when sending people back. Caswell must've guessed that and left his men to stake out the area. He's probably returned to the Space himself. But if he knows I've entered the cycle… this feud is far from over."
Jack turned and headed home.
He had no father growing up, and his mother had passed away over a decade ago. "Home" was just a modest apartment.
Though his mother's company had collapsed due to embezzlement, the final liquidation had left enough assets for Jack to live without financial strain.
But when he arrived, he was stunned.
The apartment complex was a disaster zone.
Two buildings had been half-consumed by fire. Over a hundred casualties. Fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars filled the area. Even at night, the place buzzed with chaos.
Jack, however, was the calmest—and the angriest—person there. Especially after he checked the list of victims.
"An accident? Two separate buildings catching fire at the same time? And both just happen to be…"
He turned away, eyes glowing blue, frost misting from his breath.
"Brandon Caswell… I was willing to let it go. You killed me once—I understood. But now? You've crossed the line. I swear, I'll tear you apart piece by piece."
Jack returned to the riverside, watching the thugs from a hidden spot. He wasn't in a rush. Revenge required power.
"I was manipulated by that Lyra captain. I couldn't move, but thanks to Professor X's 'Mind Lake Projection,' I saw everything. The combat instincts and Cosmo techniques I used while controlled—they're all etched into my memory. But instincts alone aren't enough. Against Reincarnators, I'm still weak. And Cosmo burns life. One misstep and I'm dead."
He needed to test his new powers.
First, he focused inward.
The ice energy within him had changed. Beneath his skin, a thin membrane of bluish-gray frost shimmered faintly. It wasn't part of his core power—but it reacted when touched by his ice energy. His skin glowed with a blue aura, like tiny thorns wrapping around him.
He brushed it against a nearby rock. The frost seeped in, cracking the stone with a sharp snap.
"This membrane amplifies my ice powers. It nearly doubles their range."
Even without actively channeling energy, the membrane responded to pressure. It could freeze and repel anything that touched him—like a reactive armor of thorns.
Better yet, it didn't drain his energy. It absorbed ambient power from an unknown source, maintaining perfect balance.
Next, Jack tested his old ability: Frozen Touch.
He gathered ice energy in his hand.
But instead of a simple frost blast, five strands of ghostly blue light shot from his fingers, wrapping around a boulder twenty meters away—and yanked it toward him.
"What the…"
More information surged into his mind.
This was Frostmourne's Grasp—a necromantic skill that pulled distant objects toward the user. And the membrane? It was called Diffuse Frost, a passive ability that froze anything Jack touched.
Both were Death Knight abilities, normally reserved for the undead. But Jack wasn't dead—just deeply fused with Frostmourne's power.
These skills weren't listed in the Book of Reincarnation. That meant they weren't sealed. He could use them freely in the real world.
Jack's eyes narrowed.
"In this world, where Reincarnator powers are restricted, I might actually have the upper hand…"
Jack Harper spotted one of the thugs sneaking off to relieve himself. He waited for the perfect moment—then launched five strands of blue light.
The man vanished into the woods with a startled yelp.
Disoriented, the thug tried to scream, but a wave of bone-chilling frost surged through his body, sapping his strength. He could barely whisper:
"Wh-who… are you?"
Jack didn't answer. He activated Diffuse Frost, his hand glowing with icy mist.
The thug's eyes widened. "You… you're one of those superpowered freaks?"
Jack paused. That reaction was telling.
If Brandon Caswell had built a criminal network in the real world, his men likely believed their boss was a superhuman. And if they'd seen powers before, they'd be easier to intimidate.
"Good," Jack said coldly. "Answer my questions truthfully, or I'll turn you into a frozen corpse. I'll know if you lie."
The thug cracked instantly.
Jack learned that the group wasn't Caswell's personal gang—it was a branch of a larger international crime syndicate. Caswell wasn't even the local leader. Another superpowered figure had taken charge after the group moved into the city.
The attack on Jack's apartment? Caswell had ordered it. The local boss had executed it. The thugs were just lookouts and fuel carriers.
Jack's eyes darkened.
"Two superpowered individuals in one gang? That means they're both Reincarnators. And if Caswell's part of a major team that can hand out entire criminal networks as perks… I'm facing something far bigger than I thought."
Without hesitation, Jack activated Diffuse Frost, freezing the thug solid. Then he used Frostmourne's Grasp to drag the body into a nearby pit and buried it under a mound of earth.
He didn't have time to worry about the corpse. With modern surveillance, the gang would notice a missing member within hours. They'd suspect Jack immediately. And once the element of surprise was gone, he'd be facing dozens of criminals—and at least one seasoned Reincarnator.
Jack hailed a taxi and headed toward the gang's hideout.
The gang had recently purchased a failing bar on the northern outskirts of the city. According to the thug, they had around forty members: ten stationed at the river, ten patrolling Caswell's residence, and the remaining twenty-plus holed up in the bar.
Jack didn't approach directly. He got out a few blocks away and circled around to the back.
Four thugs guarded the rear entrance. Jack extended both hands.
Dozens of ghostly blue arcs shot out, dragging the men toward him. Before they could react, Diffuse Frost enveloped them, turning them into frozen statues.
Jack stashed the bodies behind a crumbling wall, covered them with dirt and weeds, and slipped inside.
The bar's security was lax. Despite having a Reincarnator as their leader, the gang operated like any small-time syndicate—sloppy and overconfident.
Jack remained cautious.
He needed to conserve his ice energy for the real threat—the Reincarnator. So he relied on close-quarters combat, using Diffuse Frost passively. A punch to the throat, a grip on the neck—each touch froze vital organs, killing instantly without draining his power.
He crept into the restroom and found two thugs inside. Before they could react, Jack struck—freezing their heads and stuffing them into toilet stalls.
Then he waited behind the door, ambushing two more.
The bar had twenty gang members. Six slept upstairs. Four guarded the front. The rest were in the lounge, gambling and snorting powder.
Jack took out the two in the lounge, then used Frostmourne's Grasp to drag the front guards inside and eliminate them. He climbed to the second floor and dispatched the six sleeping thugs.
Finally, he stood outside the manager's office.
Inside, he heard heavy breathing and moans. The Reincarnator was occupied—with a woman.
Jack smirked. "Lucky me."
He had feared a chaotic battle. Even low-level thugs could be dangerous with knives. But the Reincarnator hadn't noticed a thing—too busy indulging himself.
Jack prepared his strike.
He activated a remote.
"Time to fly, little hero! Heaven loves your kind! Take the pain, take the joy…"
It wasn't a bomb—it was a sound system. Jack had hauled the bar's speakers upstairs and blasted them at full volume. The shockwave made cups jump off tables.
The Reincarnator wasn't weak-hearted, but the interruption came at a very inconvenient moment. Furious, he stormed out—pants half-on.
Jack was waiting.
Dozens of blue arcs shot out.
Jack had timed it perfectly. The Reincarnator wasn't the cautious type. Enraged and distracted, he hadn't summoned his Book of Reincarnation. Jack's Frostmourne's Grasp should've frozen him instantly.
But something went wrong.
A shimmering sphere of water-like energy enveloped the man. Jack's attack twisted like serpents against the barrier—unable to penetrate.
After two seconds, the skill faded.
The Reincarnator retaliated. A transparent shockwave blasted Jack down the hallway, smashing the sound system and silencing the music.
The man was in his thirties, bald, muscular, and shirtless. A golden earring glinted on his left ear.
"Well, well," he sneered. "If it isn't our little murderer. Thought you could challenge a real Reincarnator after one trip through the cycle?"
Jack crawled from the wreckage, gasping. "You knew I was coming? How did you use your powers without summoning the Book?"
The man grinned, proud of his secret.
"You don't know, do you? The Reincarnation Space has loopholes. If you bring real-world materials into the Space and craft items there, some of them won't be erased when you return."
He pointed to his earring. "This little thing is called Twilight Eye. It contains a micro λ-driver system—black tech that converts emotion into physical force. It's not as strong as the full version used in mechs, but I specialize in mental power. Even with my skills sealed, I can simulate telekinetic abilities. That's why the organization trusts me to stay behind."
Jack's eyes narrowed.
"Can it block sniper bullets?"
"Easily."
"Good," Jack said coldly.
The man didn't hear. He stepped closer, still gloating.
"You're lucky Caswell wants to kill you himself. Otherwise, I'd—"
Jack's fist struck like a cannon.
Jack's punch broke the sound barrier.
It tore through the Reincarnator's mental shield, pierced his chest, and shattered his torso in a burst of frost. The shockwave blasted into the manager's office, turning it into an ice tomb.
"Damn… that hurt," Jack muttered, coughing blood. "Burning Cosmo again… drained everything. I meant to save that for Caswell."
He had gambled everything on one strike.
Cosmo ignition was suicidal for non-Saints. Even with Frostmourne's enhancements, Jack's life force was nearly extinguished. He collapsed, waiting for death.
But something stirred.
"Wait… why is my ice energy regenerating? Diffuse Frost… it's flowing inward?"
When Jack first acquired Diffuse Frost, he had tried to absorb it as a power source—but failed. It acted like an external weapon, not a part of him.
Now, with his energy depleted, the frost reversed direction. Jack's mutated body, having fused ice and life force, converted the incoming chill into vitality.
Slowly, his life force stabilized.
Still weak, Jack chuckled bitterly. "I survived… but Caswell could return any moment. If I'm still this drained…"
Then he noticed something else.
His Book of Reincarnation floated into view, glowing faintly.
Jack opened it with a thought.
Battle Record: Jack Harper (Iron Tier – Mid Rank)
Defeated: Senior Reincarnator (Bronze Tier – Mid Rank)
Rewards:
- 70% of enemy's Survival Points
- One random card from enemy's Book
- One random ability from enemy's skill set
- Battle Rank +1
New Rank: Iron Tier – Upper Rank
Survival Points Gained: 7,427
Cards Acquired:
- Bronze Tier – Lower: Basic Force Mastery (from *Star Wars: Episode II*)
- Bronze Tier – Upper: Secret Treasure – Dark Saint Training Camp (from *Saint Seiya*)
Jack absorbed the Basic Force Mastery card.
Knowledge flooded his mind—Force techniques, philosophies, and combat applications. Though the Reincarnation Space sealed the power in reality, the knowledge remained.
"Perfect," Jack thought. "I can't use the Force here—but I can apply its techniques to Diffuse Frost. They're both supernatural energies born from death and emotion."
He activated Force Enhancement, a skill that amplified physical attributes by channeling the Force.
Instead of drawing from the universe, Jack tapped into Diffuse Frost. The result was astonishing—his body rapidly regenerated, fully restored in minutes.
He stood, raised a hand, and summoned the fallen earring—Twilight Eye—with pinpoint precision.
"Frostmourne's Grasp just got an upgrade," he mused. "With Force techniques, I can manipulate objects like fingers—push, pull, rotate. No more brute force."
Still cautious, Jack didn't wear the earring. It was crafted by the enemy—who knew what traps it held?
Instead, he turned to the second card: Dark Saint Training Camp.
Card: Dark Saint Training Camp – Death Queen Island Type: Secret Treasure (Bronze Tier – Upper) Duration: Up to 5 years (1 Survival Point per day) Features:
No true death; revival with double pain No loot or points; pure training Limited space; NPC-only interactions Time dilation: 5 years inside = 1 second outside One-time use; unavailable to Bronze Tier and above
The camp was based on Saint Seiya lore. Trainees who failed to bond with constellations were exiled to Death Queen Island, where they learned to harness dark matter and forge Dark Saint Cloths.
Jack considered the cost—nearly 10,000 points for full training. The payoff was uncertain. Dark Saints were cannon fodder in the original story.
But he had a plan.
"I don't need star power. I'll fuse Diffuse Frost with dark matter and Force techniques. I'll create a self-sustaining Cosmo. Then I'll forge a Dark Gold Cloth—something no Saint has ever achieved."
He activated the card.
Inside the camp, time flowed differently.
Jack trained relentlessly: hand-to-hand combat, footwork, evasion, weapon techniques, psychic control, Cosmo ignition, energy manipulation, and Saint Cloth theory.
The NPC instructors were limited—they could only answer combat-related questions. But Jack's enhanced memory allowed him to absorb everything, then refine it in lucid dreams.
After one month, he was forced to leave the safe zone.
He died within thirty minutes.
Then again. And again.
In his second month, Jack died 57 times—ambushed, trapped, overwhelmed by NPC Dark Saints.
In his third month, he killed his first trainee.
By month four, he had slain seven.
By month five, he was undefeated—and defeated his first proto-Dark Saint.
He never used ice powers or Cosmo—only raw technique.
"I've reached the threshold," Jack thought. "Now it's time to forge my Cloth."
He fused Diffuse Frost with dark matter and Force absorption, creating a perpetual Cosmo engine. Then he condensed it into a Dark Gold Cloth.
His choice: Aquarius.
The Cloth shimmered with ancient, muted gold—like a relic unearthed from a forgotten tomb. It wasn't as radiant as true Gold Cloths, but its durability and amplification rivaled Silver-tier gear.
Jack's training was complete.
In the ruined Soulbar, Jack Harper reappeared.
Five years had passed in the camp. In reality—just one second.
He looked unchanged. But his aura was different—calm, focused, lethal.
He poured a drink, sat on the couch, and waited.
Seven thugs returned. Jack froze them and tossed them aside.
As night fell, Jack stirred.
He vanished from the couch.
A crimson slash split the bar in two.
Jack landed atop the shattered counter, smirking at the figure entering the bar.
Brandon Caswell.
Clad in jagged armor, wielding a skull-forged battle axe wreathed in blue mist.
"Welcome," Jack said coldly. "I'm alive. Surprised?"
Caswell's eyes blazed with hatred—but his mouth twisted into a grin.
"Jack Harper… I'm thrilled you survived. Really. Now I get to kill you a thousand more times."
Brandon Caswell roared, unleashing a wave of green-black energy from his battle axe. Jack dodged the strike, but Caswell wasn't done.
"Death's Grasp! Come here and die!"
Purple lightning shot from his hand—Death Knight's signature skill from World of Warcraft, designed to yank enemies into melee range.
Jack responded with a superior version.
Frostmourne's Grasp.
His twin-handed technique intercepted Caswell's pull and countered with his own. One hand blocked the incoming energy; the other dragged Caswell sideways, slamming him into the bar's crumbling wall.
"Not so tough now, are you?" Jack taunted. "Is this the guy who swore to kill me a thousand times?"
Caswell snarled, activating Anti-Magic Shield. A green-yellow sphere repelled Jack's frost energy.
"You dare mock me? You know why I hold rank in a Silver-tier team despite being Bronze? Let me show you!"
He summoned a massive sphere of dark energy.
"My Death Domain—a fusion of Blood, Frost, and Unholy powers. Triple-stacked effects. You're finished!"
Jack didn't flinch.
He hurled bricks with Frostmourne's Grasp. Caswell's armor deflected them effortlessly, his speed boosted by necrotic mist.
He charged.
Jack sidestepped. Caswell's axe missed—but it was a feint.
"Chill of the Grave!"
The ground froze. Tables, chairs, even Jack's feet were encased in ice.
Caswell swung his axe horizontally, aiming to bisect Jack.
But Jack shattered the ice and twisted away at the last second.
He countered with a punch.
Diamond Frost Thunder.
A Cosmo-infused strike, evolved from the Saint technique Diamond Dust. Blue snow exploded outward, freezing everything in its path.
Caswell's armor dented. He crashed to the ground.
Jack followed up.
Diamond Meteor Storm.
A barrage of 137 ice punches, each at sonic speed.
Caswell activated his trump card.
Counterstrike Storm—a Warrior skill that retaliates with equal force for every hit received.
His axe blurred, matching Jack's speed. The air thundered with impact.
Both fighters were blasted apart.
Jack stood first.
His body was encased in a muted golden armor—his Dark Gold Cloth, forged in the image of Aquarius.
"Damn… that was close," he muttered, blood dripping from his mouth. "First time wearing this, and it nearly shattered."
Caswell lay broken. His body was mangled, limbs missing.
"You… how did you know I could use Warrior skills…" he rasped.
Jack approached.
"I didn't. I just guessed from your behavior. You were baiting me into a combo. So I prepared."
Caswell's eyes dimmed. He died.
Jack turned to his armor.
Unlike traditional Saint Cloths, his Dark Gold Cloth was forged from his own energy. It could be summoned instantly, fused with clothing, and repaired automatically.
It was ancient, heavy, and powerful.
Aquarius—the master of absolute zero.
Jack examined Caswell's remains.
No Book of Reincarnation appeared.
That meant Caswell wasn't truly dead.
Jack turned—and saw him.
A half-body, rotting and twisted, grinning with a corpse's face.
Death's Shadow—a Death Knight talent that allowed post-mortem action for a brief time.
Caswell's Book hovered above him. A card dissolved into light.
Jack felt a pull.
He vanished in a flash of white.
Caswell exploded into blood mist.
Inside Jack's Book, new text appeared:
Jack Harper (Iron Tier – Mid Rank)
Targeted by Brandon Caswell (Bronze Tier – Upper Rank)
Effect: Secret Treasure – River Styx Blood Vow
- Forced return to Reincarnation Space
- Remaining real-world time revoked
- Bound to enemy team: Dark Oath (Silver Tier – Lower Rank)
- Both parties will appear in all future missions together
- Curse persists until one side is completely annihilated
Jack stared at the page.
"No escape. No open world. No freedom."
He was now eternally bound to Brandon Caswell's team.
Every mission. Every world. Every fight.
Until one side was wiped out.