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I’m Dimensional Mercenary in Marvel

Vks_sh
14
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The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 14 chs / week.
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Synopsis
Max never expected reincarnations and transmigrations to be real, but waking up in the body of a young man named Max Knight was definitely never on his to-do list. To make things worse, the world he found himself in wasn’t his own, but one filled with heroes and villains—Marvel. Now trapped in a universe of superheroes, billionaires in flying suits, and shadowy threats lurking behind smiles, Max has to adapt fast. At least he has some semblance of security, thanks to a strange, semi-transparent screen that occasionally appears before his eyes, offering cryptic assistance, mysterious missions, and rewards he doesn’t fully understand. But as reality begins to blur and names from other worlds start to echo around him, Max realizes his new life in the Marvel Universe might just be the beginning. After all, what lies beyond one universe... might just be another adventure waiting to unfold. [Reboot of my other story: Marvel and Beyond] ———— For more chapters join my p@treon: Patreon.com/Vks_sh ==== I only own original characters.
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Chapter 1 - New World and New Life

Standing before a full-length dressing mirror, a young man, seemingly in his early twenties, glared at his reflection, which stared back with a similar, stark intensity.

The mirror offered no kindness. Its surface, cold and silver, showed everything with cruel clarity. It laid bare the truth he wanted to avoid, to hide from, even for a microsecond.

Max was stunned. He never expected to wake up in someone's body, in a whole different world, no less.

It was a world familiar, yet beyond his understanding. Everything was similar to his own except for one major difference.

It had Marvel elements, yes, the same Marvel…heroes, villains and multiverse; he shuddered at the thought.

He sighed and watched the reflection, unfamiliar to him.

He didn't recognise the face. Shadows pooled beneath tired eyes, as a faint line between disbelief and anxiety carved deeper into his brow.

It showed not just the charming face, lined at right angles with a sharp jaw, but everything transparent; his emotions, fear, regret, and something more.

The height was more than he had, around 6'1", and the extremely fit body, donned in a fitted shirt and trousers, finely woven with fabric far out of his budget, was snarkily aiming at his bitter situation.

It was almost mocking!

"So, a transmigration, is it?"

He questioned more to himself, or perhaps directed it at the stranger in the mirror, hard to decipher. His voice younger but magnetic.

However, in the lone, sunlit room, lined with polished wooden shelves, gleaming trophies, and an air that screamed wealth, he looked and sounded like a madman talking to himself.

Although he wanted to reel it in, the bitterness was firmly visible in his tone.

After a few long, unsatisfactory minutes of peering with discordant feelings, he let out a sigh of lament. 

His hand ran through his tousled, dirty blond hair, strands of gold and soft brown catching the light like sand stirred by the wind.

He recalled an hour ago, some unpleasant nightmare, hard to remember, had jolted him awake, only to find himself suffering from a pounding headache, like someone hammering him from within.

Yet the surprise came when his hand, aiming to press his throbbing temple, instead abruptly slapped himself across the face.

That slap woke him wide, sending him jumping straight over the bed, a bewildered expression shadowed onto his face.

Hitting himself was a first for him. Moreover, such an involuntary action compelled him to address the elephant in the room.

Where was he?

The king-size bed, finely carved furniture and expensive vibrant lights hanging around the large bedroom barely left him much to ponder.

Furthermore, the disorderly action of the body and brain terrified him.

His throat tightened, tears burning at the corners of his eyes, but he clenched his jaw and blinked them away.

The moment his eyes opened, he felt incongruity both with his surroundings and even within himself.

He had brushed the topic aside previously, partly due to the aching forehead and his last night's drinking contest, which had left him somewhat dizzy.

He muttered to himself in self-deprecation, "Shouldn't have agreed to that last round?"

Never been a good drinker, yet he managed to last every time to the final round. Either his so-called friends were similarly noobs like him, or the game itself seemed rigged.

Of course, he wouldn't admit he knew how those guys occasionally called him just to foot the bill. Being mildly successful among his group, he'd faced such situations often.

But what could a man in his late thirties, with no true friend or even a family, do?

His weekends were sad reruns: dim pubs, cheap drinks, and glances at strangers swaying to music that no longer moved him.

Urgh!

He ground his teeth as his head threatened his sanity once again when those unpleasant memories surfaced. Shaking his head, he tried to relax, to forget, taking in long breaths and gradually exhaling them after a pause.

Some meditative exercise a passerby once mentioned, visibly working, he continued, when he felt some ease.

"But who could've thought, unlike every time with my wallet cleaned out, I'd wake up in some different body." He shook his head.

"A handsome one at that," he remarked, praise evident in his tone.

"Who said gods are just? This face is divine favouritism in action," he pointed at the mirror, rebuking even the entities behind human creation.

He wasn't wrong, per se. Every time he turned to the mirror, the dark blue eyes, deep as the ocean, as if drawing him in and leading him to its depths, stared back relentlessly.

Not to mention, for the first time, he was embarrassed by some unholy thoughts about himself. He forced himself to remember his true orientation, recalling some spicy internet history.

"Tsk… Who could've thought those anime fan arts would bring me back from the shadows of despair?"

He felt pity for those who claimed fan art, mostly adult-rated, was a menace to society. Unlike them, he was willing to declare his love for those waifus.

Cough.

Let's not get lost. 

He noticed, after the sudden pain, that his body somehow felt lighter and quicker, leaner and… refreshing.

Unlike his previous tired and overworked one, plunged into the world of tailing after jobs and corporate rules, this one was brilliant.

This allowed him to understand his situation as he took in heavy breaths.

Not everything was as perfectly smooth as he claimed. 

He went through all sorts of emotions in the beginning: denial, anger, disbelief, and ultimately, acceptance.

The stains on his cheeks weren't his… must be the previous owner. So it all took him a complete hour to adjust to his current, somewhat stable circumstances.

It was only when he stood before the mirror, positioned closer to the bed, that he finally saw the person whose body he now inhabited.

Rubbing his chin in amazement, he had to compliment his vessel once again. "If there's a reincarnation, everyone should ask for the best."

"But how the hell did I arrive here? I'm sure I never died… right?" He frowned, sceptical.

He did faintly remember his boss had joined the last drinking party organised by his friend for the first time.

That screams of a setup! But why?

"...Was it the leak in the new project? Or maybe... no. No way. Did he find out about his wife?"

His face paled. His eyes widened in horror. He subdued his voice, ran his hand around his neck, feeling sudden suffocation, recalling that expensive wine.

Nothing was certain, yet he felt as if someone had choked him. The psychological scar, he concluded, won't fade anytime soon.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, he retorted, "Just for such a insignificant mistake, they conspired to poison me?"

He shook his head bitterly. "My fine life, lost just like that." His hazy gaze met the reflection in the mirror. 

"At least I got a better one now." He muttered with a forced chuckle.

Leaving his past behind, he raised his limbs and smacked his cheeks abruptly. The burning sensation forced his head to focus.

What's done is done. He never had any expectations in his past life to begin with. Now, in this new one, he'll make use of it, fulfilling his every desire, leaving nothing to regret.

"I hope you left without regrets," he murmured to his reflection, as waves of unfamiliar memories crashed through his mind, fragments of a life that wasn't his, now etched into his soul.

He had felt some itch since the headache, as if someone poked him in the head with something and violently thrust, twirled, and shook it. Not the best experience to re-live, but it left him with the fragmented past life of the body. 

Those fragments showed him the existence of the Marvel universe.

"Max, are you okay? Can I come in?"

A sudden feminine voice, aged and soft, woke him from his reveries, drifting through the room behind the closed door.

He turned. "I'm fine!" A response promptly escaped him on his own, making him halt, and he stood frozen on the spot.

"…"

"Max?" The woman called back again when he suddenly fell silent.

He braced himself, blaming the new memories for interfering with his actions, and replied, "Wait, I'll open the door."

He glared back at the reflection, determination flaring in his eyes. Narrowly eyeing the figure, he declared to both himself and the face watching back:

"From now on, I'm Max Knight. If you're still there in my head somewhere, leave now!"

He then left to tackle the sudden guest.

….

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