The orphanage matron started calling me "Amon" when I was still a baby—just some random name she liked, she said.If she only knew how disturbingly fitting that name would turn out to be.
It's 1934 now.I've been alive in this world—this marvel world—for four years.
Yeah. Four years in Marvel.
At first, I honestly thought I'd just been reborn somewhere in the early 20th century. I didn't consider the possibility of fictional universes or superheroes or purple genociders. I mean—come on—why would I? People don't wake up in comics.
But four years ago, a drunk truck driver flattened me like a pizza on the sidewalk and apparently the universe decided that was funny enough to give me a second chance.
Not a good one, though.
Because when I learned where I really was?That was the first time in my life I genuinely felt despair.
1st POV — Luke / Amon
I still remember the moment perfectly. I was three, barely tall enough to reach the newspapers on the matron's desk. I only wanted to see cartoon drawings. Instead, I saw a name that punched me right in the soul:
Howard Stark announces prototype engine.
Howard. Stark.
I stood there staring at the name, unable to breathe. My tiny heart tried to beat its way out of my chest.
And like dominos falling, the whole picture came together:
If Howard Stark exists →Stark Industries exists →Tony Stark will exist →SHIELD will exist →Hydra exists →Captain America exists →Thor →Loki →Aliens →Infinity Stones →Thanos →The Snap →Multiversal collapse →Kang →You get the idea.
My legs were shaking so badly that I had to sit down.The matron thought I was hungry.No, lady. I was just realizing I was going to die in a universe built for drama and destruction.
The worst part?
I had no powers.
At least, that's what I thought then.
Every night for the next year, I lay in my tiny orphanage bed wondering how the hell I was supposed to survive the future. I couldn't even lift a chair, yet I knew that in a few decades men in black coats with skull logos would be experimenting on children.
Me included.
I stopped playing with the other kids.I avoided the matrons.Everything felt pointless.
When you know the entire future is a giant apocalypse machine slowly rolling toward you…it's hard to feel hope.
3rd POV
Amon, age four, moved like a shadow in the orphanage. He rarely spoke. Rarely smiled. The matrons whispered that he was simply shy, quiet, maybe even mute by nature.
But they never saw the storm in his eyes.
The boy looked at the world like someone who already knew its ending.
He washed dishes with numb hands.He folded blankets without emotion.He stared out the window at passing cars as if searching for an escape from a story he didn't want to be part of.
Nothing about him resembled a typical child.
Until the day reality broke around him.
1st POV
The day everything changed started like any other.
I woke up hungry—like always.I helped clean the orphanage hall—like always.The matron gave me a rag to wipe the floor—like always.
But then I saw it.
A small, old-fashioned monocle lying on the floor under the table.
A monocle.
Of all things.
I don't know what possessed me, but I walked toward it. Maybe curiosity, maybe fate, maybe cosmic irony. The closer I got, the heavier the air felt—like I'd stepped underwater.
The monocle flickered.
No—glitched.
One moment, the glass was cracked.The next moment, perfectly whole.Cracked again.Whole again.Cracked.Whole.Cracked—
"What the…" I whispered.
Then I saw her—the matron—standing behind me.
Except…
There were two of her.
One solid.One slightly behind her, echoing the same movement half a second late.
My brain froze.
Then my instincts screamed.
Screamed so loudly my vision shattered into pieces.
Pain exploded in my skull.My knees buckled.I hit the floor hard.
Someone shouted my name—Amon!—but their voice stretched, warped, twisted like someone was dragging it through reality by force.
Then everything went black.
Inside the Soul Sea
I don't know how long I was unconscious.A second?A minute?A lifetime?
When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in the orphanage.
I was… somewhere else.
I stood on the surface of a massive ocean—but the water wasn't water.
It was dark, reflective, unstable. A paradox given shape. The waves bent inward instead of outward. Ripples didn't move away from me—they came toward me. Reflections of myself twisted in impossible angles.
I should've been terrified.
I was.
But I also felt something strange:Recognition.
As if my soul was saying:
"Welcome home."
Floating above the ocean were fragments—shards of light and shadow, like broken pieces of a puzzle. Each one pulsed with an identity I knew but had never touched.
No… not never.
I knew exactly what they were.
Beyonder characteristics.Error Pathway characteristics.
My legs nearly gave out.
"Wait… no way—no way—no way—"
I spun around, searching the impossible ocean. And that's when I saw it: deep below, beneath layers of contradictory water, a colossal outline of something ancient, sealed, and terrifying:
A Sefira Castle.
My breath disappeared.
My heart hammered so hard it hurt.
And then my eyes were drawn to the center of the ocean—to a massive swirling core of contradictions, illusions, reflections, and shattered truths:
The Error Uniqueness.
I stepped back instinctively.
"What… what the hell…?"
My mind was blank for a second.
Then everything hit me.
Like lightning striking dry wood, my brain fired.
I HAVE POWERS.I HAVE THE ERROR PATHWAY.I HAVE THE UNIQUENESS.THIS IS MY CHEAT.
Excitement and pure adrenaline surged through me.
My whole body shook.
"No wonder the matron named me Amon! This is insane!"
I laughed like a maniac.
"A Sequence 6! I'm actually Sequence—"
Then I stopped.
Because the moment I turned my attention toward the layer of power labeled like a heavy pressure in my soul—the Sequence 6 level—the ocean beneath me convulsed.
A tidal wave rose.
The world trembled.
And every instinct I had—every memory of LoTM I ever read—screamed the same thing:
DON'T.TOUCH.THAT.
A crushing force slammed into me.My chest tightened.My vision fragmented.I felt something tearing inside me.
I collapsed to my knees, gasping.
"Oh—shit—shit—okay—STOP—STOP—"
The ocean calmed the moment I stopped reaching for the power.
I sat there trembling as understanding dawned painfully.
I was Sequence 6…but not stable.
Not even close.
Why?
Because I had never digested the lower sequences.
Sequence 9 → Sequence 8 → Sequence 7.
All their characteristics floated around me—unassimilated, raw, and extremely dangerous.
If I used Sequence 6 now?
I would collapse.Distort.Mutate.Lose myself.Become a monster like the ones LoTM warned about.
I swallowed hard.
"Okay… okay. No panic. Think. Klein did this. Amon did this. I can do this."
I took a deep breath of paradoxical air.
"I need to digest Sequence 9 characteristics first. Then 8. Then 7. Only then can I safely be Sequence 6."
And then the planner in me—the MCU nerd who knew the entire timeline—woke up.
"World War II starts soon. Red Skull. The Tesseract. Hydra experiments. If I want to survive that era… I need to reach at least Sequence 8 by then."
A sense of direction.A goal.A path.
For the first time in this world, I felt… not hopeless.
I felt alive.
Back to the Real World
My eyes snapped open.
I was lying on my bed in the orphanage, drenched in sweat.
Two matrons hovered over me, panicked.
"Amon! Child, are you alright?"
I forced my breathing to steady.
"Just… dizzy," I lied.
The lie slid out smoothly—like it belonged there.
And I felt it.
A small shift in my soul.A tiny ripple.
My first step toward assimilation.
"Can I… rest?" I asked, trying to sound weak.
They nodded immediately, fussing over me before leaving.
I sat up slowly and walked to the cracked mirror above the dresser.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then—
A faint monocle appeared over my right eye.Clear, sharp, elegant.
It looked at me.
I smiled.
"Sequence 9… Marauder.This is where I begin."
Fade out