Marcus stared at the glowing interface floating in his vision, his heart suddenly gripping with panic.
Oh shit.
The display was bright. Obvious. Anyone looking at him would see him staring at thin air with this weird, glazed expression.
He glanced around frantically. The two guards at the entrance were still arguing about something. The other slaves were huddled in their own miserable groups, lost in their own exhaustion and fear.
Nobody was looking at him.
More importantly—nobody was reacting to the glowing blue interface that hovered right in front of his face.
They can't see it.
Marcus let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through him.
"Okay," he whispered. "Okay. So it's just for me. The system panel is just for me."
That made sense, actually. In all the web novels he'd read, the system was always private. Some kind of mental interface or retinal projection that only the host could perceive. It moved with his vision when he turned his head, always staying centered no matter where he looked.
Which meant it was either implanted directly into his brain or overlaid on his vision somehow. Either way, it was invisible to everyone else.
Thank god.
Now that he wasn't panicking about getting shot for acting weird, Marcus could actually focus on the system itself.
He studied the simple interface again:
[Heavens Plundering System]
Host: Marcus Reid
Age: 19
Items: Miscellaneous junk
Abilities: None
Origin Points: 2
Two Origin Points. Some kind of currency, probably. But what could he do with them?
"System," Marcus thought carefully, keeping his expression neutral. "Is there a manual? A tutorial? How the hell do I use this thing?"
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
A flood of information slammed into his mind.
Marcus gasped, stumbling back against the cave wall. It wasn't painful, exactly, but it was overwhelming. Like someone had just downloaded a massive file directly into his brain. Instructions, rules, limitations, possibilities—all of it pouring in at once.
He closed his eyes, pressing his palm against his forehead, and let the information settle.
When he opened his eyes again, he understood.
The system was simpler than he'd expected. No AI assistant. No snarky voice giving him quests. Just a tool—a very powerful tool—that he could operate through thought, silent commands, or even speaking out loud if he wanted to.
And it had one primary function:
World travel.
Marcus's eyes widened as he processed that.
The Heavens Plundering System wasn't just some generic power-up machine. It was designed to let him travel to other worlds—other universes from movies, TV shows, books, anything he could remember from his previous life.
And the purpose? To plunder opportunities. To steal power-ups, abilities, and resources from those worlds to make himself stronger.
Holy shit.
Origin Points were the fuel. The currency that made it all work.
One Origin Point would let him travel to a world randomly. Random time, random place. He'd just get dumped somewhere in that universe with no control over when or where.
Two Origin Points would let him specify everything. The exact world. The exact moment. Down to the second, if he wanted. He could pick a specific scene from a movie and drop himself right into it.
For example—if he wanted to go to the DC universe, he could spend two Origin Points and specify: Smallville, Kansas. The Kent farm. The night baby Clark's spaceship crashes. Standing right next to the crater.
He could be there before the Kents even found the kid. Hell, he could adopt Clark himself if he wanted to.
The possibilities were insane.
But there were limitations, of course.
First: The scene had to actually exist in the source material. He couldn't just make up a random time and place. It had to be something that appeared in the movie, show, or book he was targeting.
Second: Higher-tier worlds cost more. The information dump didn't specify exactly how the system ranked worlds, but Marcus could guess. A world with gods and cosmic powers would cost more than a world with regular humans.
Third: He was stuck with two Origin Points until he figured out how to earn more. And to unlock more system features? That would cost ten Origin Points minimum.
Marcus exhaled slowly, his mind racing.
Two points. He had two Origin Points to work with.
Which meant he needed to be smart about this.
Marcus leaned back against the cold stone wall, thinking.
If he could travel to another world and grab some kind of advantage—a power, a weapon, some piece of technology—he could come back here stronger. Strong enough to survive the next three months. Maybe even strong enough to take out Raza himself.
But which world should he choose?
His mind immediately went to the classic "starter" worlds. The ones that newbie transmigrators always hit first in the web novels he'd read.
Limitless. The movie where the protagonist finds a miracle drug called NZT-48 that unlocks 100% of his brain. One pill and you become a genius. Perfect memory, superhuman focus, the ability to learn anything.
Chronicle. Three teenagers find a mysterious glowing crystal that gives them telekinetic powers. The kind of powers that let you fly, crush cars, stop bullets in mid-air.
Ip Man. Classic kung fu movies. Master-level martial arts. One man against a hundred.
Mr. Zombie. Old-school Hong Kong horror-comedy with Taoist magic and hopping vampires.
Resident Evil. Zombies, bioweapons, and the T-virus.
Those were the usual suspects. Low-power worlds where a normal person could grab something valuable without getting killed immediately.
Marcus crossed his arms, considering his options.
Chronicle was tempting. If he could get his hands on that crystal—if he could gain telekinesis—he'd be unstoppable here. Telekinesis was insanely versatile. Flight. Super strength. Bullet deflection. He could throw terrorists around like ragdolls.
According to what he remembered from the movie, the protagonists' powers got strong enough to lift cars. Tons of force with just a thought. In Marvel terms, that was first-tier hero material. Somewhere around Spider-Man's level.
Hell, even among the Avengers, that wouldn't be weak.
If he had powers like that? The Ten Rings wouldn't stand a chance. He could walk out of here whenever he wanted, mowing down anyone who tried to stop him.
Marcus felt a grin tugging at his lips.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's do it. System, take me to the Chronicle universe."
The system's voice echoed in his head immediately:
"Ding. Locking onto Chronicle world travel requires 2 Origin Points. Destination time and location will be random. Do you wish to proceed?"
Marcus frowned.
Random time and location? That was... risky. What if he showed up after the protagonists already found the crystal? What if he ended up in the middle of the final battle when they were throwing buses at each other?
The system's voice continued:
"To specify time and location, an additional Origin Point is required. Do you wish to lock destination parameters?"
Marcus's face fell.
Of course.
Two Origin Points to pick the world. One more to lock the time and place.
That was three Origin Points total.
He only had two.
"Dammit," Marcus hissed under his breath.
If he couldn't lock the time and place, showing up in Chronicle was a gamble. He could end up in Antarctica. He could arrive before the plot even started and spend months wandering around looking for a glowing crystal in the middle of nowhere.
Or worse—he could show up during the climax when Andrew was tearing the city apart, and get caught in the crossfire.
No. That was too risky.
Which meant he could only afford to travel to worlds that cost one Origin Point for random travel. That way, he'd have one point left over to lock the time and place and actually get what he came for.
Marcus closed his eyes, thinking.
Worlds that cost one Origin Point... those would be the low-power ones. No supernatural forces. No crazy advanced tech. Just normal human-level stuff.
Kung fu movies like Ip Man. He could show up in Hong Kong when Master Ip was taking students, learn Wing Chun, and come back a martial arts expert.
But then Marcus glanced at the guards by the entrance. At the AK-47s slung over their shoulders.
"Seven steps away, the gun is faster. Within seven steps, the fist is faster," he muttered, quoting the old saying.
Except these weren't some old revolvers from the 1920s. These were modern automatic rifles. Even if he trained for years and became the next Bruce Lee, he'd still get shredded the moment someone opened fire.
Kung fu wouldn't cut it.
He needed something better.
Marcus's thoughts turned to Limitless.
The NZT-48 drug. The pill that turned an ordinary guy into a hyper-intelligent super-genius. Perfect memory. Lightning-fast learning. The ability to see patterns and connections no one else could.
And the best part? The protagonist, Eddie Moran, was just a regular schmuck when he found it. If Marcus could get to the NZT before Eddie did—if he could steal the stash and use it himself—he'd have a massive advantage.
With NZT, he could figure out how to make money fast. Stocks, gambling, whatever. Then use that money to buy weapons. Real hardware. Come back to Afghanistan loaded with enough firepower to blow this place off the map.
Marcus nodded slowly.
Yeah. That could work.
Limitless was set in New York, modern day. Same timeline as the world he'd just left. No magic, no monsters, no cosmic threats. Just a desperate writer, a drug dealer, and a miracle pill.
Low risk. High reward.
"Okay," Marcus said quietly. "Let's go with—"
"@#￥%&*!"
Marcus's head snapped up.
One of the guards was standing in the doorway, shouting in Pashto and gesturing aggressively with his rifle.
Marcus didn't need a translation. He knew what that meant.
Work time.
The guard barked another order, and the other slaves started moving immediately, shuffling toward the exit with their heads down. No one wanted to be the last one out. The last one always got hit.
Marcus cursed under his mind, dismissing the system interface with a thought.
Not now. Not here.
He couldn't travel in front of everyone. And he sure as hell wasn't about to get shot for standing around staring at nothing while everyone else was filing out.
He'd have to wait. Find a moment when he was alone. When the guards weren't watching.
Later, Marcus told himself. I'll do it later.
For now, he had to survive.
Marcus fell in with the crowd, keeping his head down as they were herded out of the cave and into the harsh afternoon sun. The heat hit him like a slap. Dry, suffocating, the kind of desert heat that made you feel like your skin was cracking.
The Ten Rings had everyone working in shifts. Moving crates. Hauling ammunition. Carrying food and water from the supply trucks to the storage areas deeper in the cave network.
It was brutal, backbreaking labor. The kind of work that wore you down to nothing if you weren't careful.
And if you collapsed from exhaustion? If you tried to resist, or run, or fight back?
You died.
Simple as that.
Marcus grabbed a crate of ammunition and started hauling it toward the storage area, his muscles screaming in protest. His back was still covered in bruises from the beatings. Every step hurt.
But he kept moving.
Because dying here wasn't an option.
Not when he was this close to getting out.