C3: World of Superheroes
After King Kong Barbie left, Patch couldn't wait to open the virtual panel of the Main God's Space and checked the two functions it had mentioned.
A series of introductory texts filled Patch's view—
The Divinity of the Main God: A super-cosmic godhead formed not by conventional divine birth but through non-human processes across the endless multiverse. This godhead is uniquely attuned to two primal forces: Time and Space akin to the Power Cosmic wielded by Galactus or the Quantum Bands of Quasar. Once the new Main God's energy level reaches a certain threshold, their own divine operating system will automatically initiate higher-order protocols, similar to how Franklin Richards' latent powers activated his universal shaping abilities.
"Isn't this just like a passive skill from a League of Legends champion? Why dress it up in all this metaphysical mumbo jumbo?"
Patch groaned aloud, before looking further down.
Skill Exchange: A repository containing all super-character skills, occult knowledge, extraordinary abilities, and technological blueprints from countless worlds orchestrated by the Main God. Unlike the Celestial technology in the Marvel cosmos or the Mobius Chair's knowledge in the DC universe, this exchange offers select fragments. Because the prior Main God—an entity rivaling Marvel's The One Above All or DC's The Presence only forged one technology-based dimension, the Resource Management Division of the Lanbai Society has offered the new host access to four categorized universes to balance out system deficiencies.
All skills within this function must be redeemed using exchange points generated from extraordinary energy accumulation. Continue striving, Main God candidate.
The current unlocked exchangeable worlds include: Resident Evil Universe, Azeroth (World of Warcraft), Wizard World, and Runeterra (League of Legends).
"What? Just four worlds?"
After reading through all the introductions, Patch was visibly unimpressed. Staring blankly at the gray ceiling above, he muttered in frustration: "So much for becoming the next Beyonder. My multiversal domination dream collapsed before takeoff."
Yet, even through the disappointment, Patch forced a bitter grin and added, "Well, it's still a proper golden finger. These four worlds aren't as useless as that broken-down god who held this post before."
"Wait, hold on." A sudden realization flickered in Patch's mind.
He remembered clearly: before leaving, King Kong Loli had recharged him with 1,000 exchange points.
"Well then, let's see what I can get..."
He opened the skill exchange panel with anticipation, eyes glittering with excitement as holographic listings scrolled down like Iron Man's HUD interface.
But just two minutes later, that excitement turned into shock and then despair.
"Advanced Artificial Intelligence – Red Queen": From Resident Evil. Required points: 100,000.
"Mutated Strain T-Virus (Wesker Variant)": From Resident Evil. Required points: 50,000.
"The Frozen Throne of Sargeras": From World of Warcraft. Required points: 250,000.
"Treading Wind – Fist of the Heavens": From Warcraft. Required points: 180,000.
"Heart of Doom": From Wizard World. Required points: 180,000.
"Morello's Secret Code": From League of Legends. Required points: 200,000.
…
Staring at the astronomical costs—each entry more unreachable than Stark Tower for a street-level hero—Patch felt absolutely defeated.
"Damn scam! Multiversal pit trap! Why are they all high-level relics? Where's my bargain bin section?" Patch flailed, his dead-fish eyes glaring at the panel like Bruce Banner being denied access to a gamma lab.
He sighed heavily. "The revolution hasn't succeeded yet, comrades must still struggle on." With a wry expression, he prepared to close the panel.
Just then, a mechatronic voice buzzed through his consciousness.
"Young Sovereign, as the newly ascended Main God, you must neither despair nor falter."
"As exalted as I am, the former Main God, Kibadayat Chanlovski, foresaw your hardships and has arranged a starter gift package. For just 1,000 exchange points, you can acquire a foundational supernatural ability."
"Embrace it, chosen one. Your journey has only begun."
The Honorable and Supreme Lord Kibadayet Chanlovskiliu
Patch's hand froze in mid-air. As the announcement ended, a new panel popped open in front of his eyes.
"Huh?"
He leaned closer and read the flickering title aloud: "The True Explanation of Orlando Andres Googol's Wizardry."
Yes—what appeared before him was the digital projection of a tome, its title etched in eerie, flickering script reminiscent of the Darkhold or Book of Eternity.
"Looks badass."
Without a second thought mostly because he had no other choice, Patch redeemed the book.
His virtual account dropped to 0 points instantly. Then, a tome materialized from the ether, descending into his grasp.
The black cover was engulfed in swirling smoke, a whispering mist that danced with disembodied faces like a cross between Dormammu's realm and Doctor Fate's relics.
Unbothered, Patch eagerly flipped the book open.
Its content was written in an unfamiliar language, something alien, indecipherable, and arcane like Kryptonian glyphs mixed with Elder Futhark. Yet, somehow, he understood every word.
"I knew it was too good to be true," Patch sighed. After over an hour of scanning the dense, symbol-laced pages, he slammed the book shut with a frustrated grunt.
"Damn it! It's just a beginner's manual for fledgling wizards. And here I was thinking it'd be the Necronomicon mixed with Odin's Book of Wisdom."
"Isn't this just a joke?"
He tossed the "wizard's truth" onto the bed like a disappointed comic fan discarding a ruined first edition. Grumbling, he stood up and walked out the door.
…
After going to the orphanage's canteen for lunch, Patch was about to return to his room when he was stopped by Priest Magellan, who leaned heavily on an old, oak-handled cane adorned with a faint engraving of a cross and eagle clearly a relic from his army days.
"Little Patch, come with me to my office."
"Yes, Grandpa Magellan."
Patch quickly walked over to help the aging priest. Supporting the trembling Magellan with care, he guided him slowly down the hallway, the familiar creak of floorboards echoing as they passed faded posters of American war heroes and faded Sunday school notices.
"Little Patch, you feel... very different to me today."
After Patch helped him into the high-backed chair and leaned the cane nearby, Priest Magellan observed him with narrowed eyes.
Having just regained the memories of his past life after fifteen years, Patch's demeanor indeed carried a maturity and sharpness unlike the wide-eyed orphan he had been. Though surprised by Magellan's insight, Patch decided not to divulge too much.
"Grandpa Magellan, it's just your imagination. I'm still the same old Patch, nothing's changed."
Magellan smiled faintly, shaking his head. "Maybe. But even if your soul changed, your path is still yours to walk."
He changed the subject. "Patch, you'll be leaving the orphanage in a few months. Have you thought about your future?"
According to U.S. law, children raised in state-run orphanages are considered legally independent at sixteen and must transition into the wider world—much like how young mutants in Xavier's School eventually faced the world outside, whether as heroes, citizens, or fugitives.
Patch was only a few months away from his sixteenth birthday. Which meant he'd soon be cast into society without a safety net, just like Peter Parker balancing high school and hero work after Uncle Ben's death.
"I don't know." Patch gave a bitter smile. "Let's just go with the flow. I'll find something maybe flipping burgers like Wade Wilson before Weapon X."
"Patch, it doesn't matter what you do. This is still a free country," Magellan said warmly. "As long as you protect yourself and don't endanger others, I'll be proud."
Magellan rose slowly, gripping his cane again. He patted Patch on the shoulder, much like Alfred Pennyworth did to a young Bruce Wayne, instilling wisdom not just through words but through warmth.
"I will," Patch replied solemnly.
In this orphanage, not only Sister Meiwes but also Dean Magellan treated him with rare kindness. A veteran of the Allied Forces in World War II, Magellan once fought across Europe during Operation Overlord, losing comrades to Nazi bullets and Hydra experimentation alike—though the latter, of course, was officially classified. His unwavering creed: peace through strength and compassion.
The emotional and psychic scars of war weren't just skin-deep. Magellan understood this too well. Even in a country without open warfare, rising crime from Wilson Fisk's empire to gang warfare in Hell's Kitchen was everywhere. Magellan didn't want Patch, poor and vulnerable, to fall through the cracks like so many youths drawn into villainy or vigilantism.
"That's good," Magellan said with quiet satisfaction.
"If there's nothing else, Grandpa Magellan, I'll get going."
Magellan nodded slightly.
But as Patch turned to leave, his gaze suddenly froze. His eyes locked onto something that stunned him so completely he forgot to breathe.
Whirling back, Patch pointed to a poster on the wall, his voice breaking: "Grandpa Magellan... w-what is that?"
Following his line of sight, Magellan looked toward the framed poster pinned on the wood-paneled wall. It showed a tall, muscular man in a streamlined, star-spangled battle suit, wielding a round Vibranium shield painted with red, white, and blue concentric circles. The man's firm gaze, square jaw, and iconic 'A' helmet made him instantly recognizable.
"Captain America. What about it?" Magellan tilted his head, genuinely confused by Patch's astonishment.
Captain America. Captain America.
Patch's mind was a thunderstorm of disbelief, like Mjolnir smashing through everything he thought he understood. A thousand thoughts roared in his skull like being hit with Xavier's Cerebro at full blast.
There was only one explanation.
Magellan, nearly ninety, wasn't just a fan of some fictional character. He had spoken of Steve Rogers like a brother-in-arms.
So this wasn't some alternate comic universe dream. This... this was real.
"Steve Rogers—Captain America is the spiritual icon of veterans from my generation," Magellan explained, his voice wistful. "He fought the Nazis, dismantled Hydra. Back then, every soldier—every grunt like me idolized him. We didn't have gods like Thor or geniuses like Stark. We had Rogers."
"Patch, you've seen that poster for years. Why so shocked?"
"I still remember when you were seven, you swore you'd grow up to be Captain America."
Patch's thoughts were spinning even as he left Magellan's office.
He darted into the orphanage library and logged into the creaky old computer, the one reserved for schoolwork and job searches. His fingers flew over the keyboard.
"Captain America. Tony Stark. World War II. Nazis. Hydra. The Super Soldier Serum. S.H.I.E.L.D."
The results came instantly, too instantly.
Captain America. Iron Man. Hulk. Thor. Black Widow. Hawkeye.
The Avengers.
"My God..."
"This... is the actual Marvel Universe."
"This world has real superheroes."
"My f***ing goodness."
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