"This drug..."
His expression management completely collapsing, Merlin stared in shock at the unconscious addict sprawled on the floor before him.
Cosmic energy!
And not just any cosmic energy—primordial cosmic energy, vast beyond measure!
Crack! Shk—
At that moment, the Imperial tactical squad stationed at Earth's tax-source sector, previously concealed in the shadows, could no longer remain hidden. "Move! Secure the scene! Arrest them—activate the suppressors!"
From the side of the laboratory came a violent explosion of splintering wood and shattering glass, followed by a blinding white flash that seared the retinas, and finally the piercing whine of a flashbang.
"Get down!"
"Hands in the air!"
Everything happened in a split second. Faced with the red optical lenses lighting up in the darkness and gun barrels pressed against their foreheads, two of the thieves reflexively dropped flat to the ground. The third, already delirious—likely unable to hold back and having just taken a hit—charged at the Imperial tactical squad like a starving hound, his face flushed an unnatural red.
And then... thud.
The hollowed-out junkie collided with an experiment table, sending bottles and jars spinning through the air before crashing down in the distance... Capsules, pills, and powders scattered across the floor.
Face to the ground, head tilted to one side—sleeping like a baby.
"Oh, by the Throne... Commander Merlin, the energy index in his body is rising sharply."
Having subdued the three thieving addicts within inches of disaster, the tactical squad captain stepped closer. The moment he saw Robert Reynolds lying unconscious on the ground, his body convulsing violently, his eyes widened. Through the constantly updating data streaming across his helmet display, he let out a disbelieving cry.
From green—stable.
To yellow—caution.
To red—danger.
And then flashing wildly, multiplying geometrically until the numbers maxed out entirely. He almost thought the instrument panel in his helmet had malfunctioned.
"Damn it, it's about to erupt! Commander, the small tactical suppressor can no longer control the situation!"
"Fall back!"
Merlin made the decision instantly. He did not even care if chanting too quickly would make him bite his tongue. His incantation flowed at breakneck speed. In almost a single breath, layer upon layer of floral magecraft barriers stacked around the laboratory. "Get out of the lab and seal off the perimeter!"
The subtle, miraculous reaction between the half-finished 'Sentry' serum and the addict's body—long surrendered to indulgence and decay—was not yet over.
Hummm—
From emaciated to robust, his clothes bursting apart, the addict's body suddenly swelled with bulging muscle. It was as though he had been plated in gold—his entire form gleaming with a pure, radiant golden sheen, as if forged from solid gold itself.
"Ghk..."
An unconscious groan escaped Robert Reynolds. His waist arched upward, his neck trembling like a seizure patient. His eyes bulged, mouth gaping wide, saliva spilling from the corners.
Beyond the golden reflective sheen of his transformed body, Robert Reynolds' previously brittle and tangled hair began to grow wildly. Most striking were his protruding, pupil-less eyes, around which hazy halos of light coiled and bloomed. In the dim air, they shimmered like rippling water, refracting faint golden radiance.
Boom.
The flickering golden energy condensed into something tangible, suppressed and trembling, as though it would erupt in the next instant.
Cradling a small white canine creature, the Flower Magus retreated. His violet eyes shimmered, filled with shock and curiosity... and a trace of anticipation.
Is it going to explode?
"Go to Kamar-Taj and fetch Saitama—"
"Ahem. Let's not entertain that sort of expectation, Merlin."
Before his words could finish, a soft cough and a familiar, cool female voice interrupted him. A warm yet supple clawed gauntlet rested upon the Flower Magus' shoulder cloak.
Eagle wings unfurled, serpentine tendrils drifting. Clad in white-and-gold scaled battle armor, Selene revealed herself.
A battle between Saitama and the Sentry would indeed be something to anticipate.
At first glance, the disparity seemed immense. Yet one was constantly breaking through his own limits, while the other was newly born, not even past his adjustment phase—a mere infant. In that sense, it could be considered a fair match. Unfortunately, Earth would be the arena, and even the Ancient One would not be able to contain the aftermath.
"What a marvelous—and ironic—chemical reaction... A pity. There won't be a second time."
The 'Gorgon-faced' woman extended her crimson tongue and licked her lips.
Beneath the densely overlapping scales of her clawed gauntlet, embedded in the back of her hand like priceless ornaments, the Mind and Time Gemstones radiated light.
Even if this body could not manifest the full might of the Infinity Stones, it was enough. Beneath demonic sigils, her petrifying Mystic Eyes narrowed in focus. Threads of dim amber and fluorescent green crept across the crimson glow.
Selene saw it.
The authority of Time allowed her to observe every reaction of the 'Sentry serum' down to each picosecond. The authority of Mind aligned her consciousness infinitely with the current universe's awareness, forcibly inserting herself into the causal thread of the Sentry's birth.
Clang!
Her sharp claws rang faintly, gleaming coldly in the pale golden aura radiating from Robert Reynolds.
"Roar—!"
Robert Reynolds opened his mouth wide unconsciously. The out-of-control power was about to erupt in that very instant—yet in the next, like a chick seized by the throat, his neck snapped backward. His entire body lifted into the air, forced into an arched curve.
Selene's claws pierced straight through the chaotic, uncontrolled energy barrier. Grabbing Robert Reynolds by the face from the front, she swung him in a half arc and slammed him brutally into the ground.
Boom!
The chaotic energy that could have blasted the surrounding city blocks into the sky was smashed apart. Broken glass and shattered containers flew everywhere. Precious laboratory instruments and chemical agents were scattered in all directions. The entire laboratory collapsed with a thunderous crash. Even the paving stones on the nearby suburban sidewalk trembled twice.
"Got you. Little junkie."
Through the dust and debris, the curve of Selene's lips remained visible. Blood stained her claws. Amid astronomical molecular restructuring, she found that faintly concealed 'entrance' to the Sentry.
...
Who am I?
Where am I?
What am I supposed to do?
My name is Robert Reynolds, a drug-addicted, unemployed, homeless drifter.
I should be in that old man's laboratory.
Because I had no money to buy new 'goods,' I was discussing with my fellow junkies how to get some cash to restock. We targeted that half-abandoned lab. Only one old scholar inside—safe. After staking it out for a few days, I should have been picking the lock with Jack and the others to steal our 'supply.'
Did we get caught? No—the cops aren't that capable...
"Where is this? An alien prison? No! Someone save me! NYPD! USCG! ACD! NSA! FBI!"
Within the pitch-black crimson curtain where one could not see a hand before one's face, Robert Reynolds was completely stunned. In extreme terror, he flailed his limbs wildly, utterly unaware of the abnormalities in his own body, shouting in despair.
"..."
Watching this glittering 'junkie' perform what could only be described as a catastrophically absurd farce, Selene shook her head inwardly.
Crude. Far too crude.
There was truly no foundation at all. His spirit and will were in the negatives—far beyond what could even be described as amateurish.
This fellow might well be the pinnacle of that peculiar profession known as the 'American drifter'...
After Robert Reynolds drank the 'Sentry' potion—which did not even qualify as a half-finished product—the immense energy within it caused a phase shift in the molecules and atoms inside his body, at nearly zero probability.
Then, again at nearly zero probability, that phase shift generated within him something akin to a 'door,' connecting to a peculiar newborn universe—an ownerless, still-expanding primordial cosmos. Thus, in an instant, he obtained energy equivalent to one million stellar explosions.
No training required. No subjective initiative required. Simply by letting nature take its course, step by step, this severely addicted junkie and petty thief could become a superhero capable of protecting all humanity.
If he so desired, his upper limit was almost endless. Universe level was merely the starting point of his transformation.
To rival cosmic creator gods. To conquer time and space. To surpass divinity itself. To accomplish anything he wished... even healing and resurrecting others, reversing life and death—a true god among men.
Utter nonsense.
Compared to this, the blessings Selene granted to Master Chief John and the members of Fleet 117 seemed hardly worth mentioning.
At least their foundations had not changed drastically. They required repeated transformations. They had to replenish their bodies' nutrients, train, break through, and fulfill the potential unlocked by loosening their restraints.
And yet Robert Reynolds, even if he continued to degenerate and indulge himself—drifting in a haze under the gaze of narcotics every single day—universe level would still merely be his starting point.
Have I been too harsh toward my subjects...? Should I leave behind some once-in-a-lifetime fortunes within the Empire's boundless territories, waiting for a lucky soul to stumble upon them?
Watching such a piece of irredeemable social refuse—who by the laws of her Empire would have been sent to labor reform—obtain this kind of power, Selene even entertained such a thought.
No!
In the next instant, she dismissed the ridiculous idea.
Though the saying "a prodigal who returns is more precious than gold" also applied within the Sacred Selene Empire—opportunities, miracles, grace, and blessings all existed—it would not be to such... exaggerated... extremes.
After a long while, amid Robert Reynolds' frantic flailing, he suddenly noticed a cascade of soft golden hair blocking his vision.
Wasn't my hair short? And this texture... damn... smoother than the hostesses at a rock bar. Is this really me?
He stretched out his hand in dazed confusion.
His spirit and flesh were now completely unified.
Looking at these powerful hands, feeling his body—once hollowed out by drugs—now brimming again with inexhaustible strength, his mind buzzed. In a hazy blur, a voice filled with temptation echoed—
You are everything. You are greater than God. You can go anywhere... do anything. The power of this universe—everything—is yours... and there can be more.
Stronger than any high brought on by injection, Robert Reynolds felt as though he could accomplish anything.
"I can change... I can do anything..."
He murmured along with it. His expression gradually shifted from panic to calm, filled with rising exhilaration.
I want to change!
"No, you don't."
A contemptuous snort cut into Robert Reynolds' intoxicated transformation, interrupting the gestation of his awakening—and the birth of some inner demon, some shadowed opposite. An indescribable terror enveloped him.
Bzzzz—
"Lucky little junkie. Got you. Trash should stay obediently in its drug den."
The voice was practically mocking—the laughter of a predator, of a carnivore.
"As a wedge, as a key, your mission is over. Now... begone."
"No, no, no! It's mine! Everything is mine! You're the one who should get lost!!"
A colossal sense of crisis loomed over him. In his fear, Robert Reynolds felt his anger burn so fiercely that even his voice warped.
"Get away! Get away! No one can take this from me—die!!"
That abruptly severed ecstasy had left him craving more. He did not want to lose it. He did not want that pleasure to end.
Though his control was nearly nonexistent and crude beyond belief, the force unleashed with a single wave of the 'infant Sentry's' hand was already terrifyingly real.
Cosmic energy erupted and boiled over, as though millions of Little Boys were detonating at once. The immense shockwave compressed heaven and earth, sweeping outward in every direction.
"Seal."
Selene's voice was light, as though she were recounting something utterly insignificant.
Amplified by the Mind Gemstone, the Beast Goddess' tendrils effortlessly tore apart Robert Reynolds' struggle. Invisible ripples spread and surged through the distorted, fractured special universe. Purple-crimson radiance wrapped in clusters of green light began to pierce from Selene's eyes, illuminating his terrified face.
"Ugh..."
Robert Reynolds' time stopped.
The golden blood transformation began to reverse. The connection between that universe and the existence known as Robert Reynolds was severed. The phase shift ended.
Stepping out from the void, Selene smoothly sealed and erased the door-like aperture that the phase shift had generated within Robert Reynolds' body—and transferred it into herself.
This universe did not struggle or resist.
Had the Sentry fully been born and completely bound to this universe, he would have been a formidable enemy. Troublesome. But now? He was still lacking. At this stage, he was merely a weak-willed addict—like a child clutching gold.
"A sufficiently solid foundation. A road to the heavens... now it belongs to me."
With the authority of Mind, she erased his memories. Selene swept her gaze across the boundless dark-red void stretching to the limits of perception. Her elegantly shaped crimson lips curved into a faint smile.
Her [Eternity] incarnation had gained a new universal template.
...
Beneath that eternally towering shadow, he was like a speck of dust in smoke—insignificant.
As if struck on the head without warning, Robert Reynolds felt both pain and confusion. He struggled to push himself up.
A mad, crushing disappointment settled over him.
Though Robert Reynolds no longer remembered what he had dreamed, that sense of indulgence, joy, ease, and fulfillment still lingered in his heart.
It felt as though he had dreamed for a very, very long time.
The world within the dream had been both real and illusory. The empty reality before him no longer carried any familiarity—it felt like a world that had nothing to do with him at all.
The me in the dream probably wasn't the me now. That must have been the ideal version of me... damn, that felt good.
That drug really packed a punch.
Robert Reynolds thought silently. After several seconds, the haze in his vision gradually faded.
"Hey, Jack... did you guys see that test tube with the golden liquid? That stuff was incredible... uh—"
Muttering cheerfully, he lifted his head—and his voice cut off abruptly.
The ceiling was gone.
Shadows in full tactical gear surrounded him. Dark gun barrels were aimed directly at his face.
"Hey, don't shoot! I surrender! I only stole some medicine... I definitely didn't hurt anyone, and the value definitely doesn't exceed a thousand bucks!" he said skillfully, raising his hands.
—
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