"Traveler, we have arrived at a new world."
"Time remaining: 30 days."
"Anchor to this world?"
"No, no, no, fuck!"
The young man cursed.
A scorching heat wave rose, carrying dry sand.
Rolling golden sand dunes, like churning waves in the ocean,
The intense heat made Emrys feel a fiery, sharp pain from his throat to his lungs with every breath.
"Good news, this time the spawn point isn't an alley." In just half a minute, he was drenched in sweat. Emrys felt like he was being roasted. He raised a hand to his forehead to create some shade and squinted at the blazing Sun: "But the bad news is, this time he threw me in the desert."
He looked down at his wrist, at the information displayed by the Traveler System.
"Traveler: Emrys."
"Race: Human."
"Faction: Imperium of Man."
"Profession: scavenger."
"Anchor World: None."
"Remaining Energy: 0 units."
"Remaining Source Power: 0 units."
This time, Emrys didn't need to rush.
Thirty days, though not too long, should be enough.
Moreover, even if it wasn't enough, he had backup 'Energy'. The 'Deflection Field Defense Device' and 'Plasma Pistol' Magos Galahad gave him still stored a lot of Energy.
Of course, Emrys would absolutely not use them lightly unless it was a last resort, after all, those were his life-saving tools!
"First, I need to get out of this cursed place."
Emrys wiped away sweat. Not only was he thrown into the desert, but he was also fully armored.
Carapace armor over a bulletproof fiber undersuit, plus a series of equipment and weapons, he was now carrying at least fifty kilograms, equivalent to carrying an adult female.
And, most importantly, due to his lack of experience, Emrys hadn't anticipated possibly appearing in an extreme environment, so he hadn't prepared enough water.
In the desert at noon, temperatures can reach over forty degrees Celsius, leading to dehydration in just a few hours!
"I was careless. This time, I'll take it as a lesson."
Emrys felt a bit bitter, swallowing with a dry throat: "Next time I travel, I must…"
He was grateful that Jackal had trained him for three days beforehand, briefly mentioning survival methods in extreme environments.
He had seen on various survival shows in his previous life that desert temperatures during the day approached forty degrees. Untrained ordinary people would quickly suffer from heatstroke or even dehydration.
Emrys had been injected with Compound V and had lived in the lower hive for more than ten years. Other aspects aside, his adaptability was absolutely impeccable, tens of thousands of years ahead of 2K humans!
"Fortunately, Jackal taught me survival skills."
After observing the sand dunes, combining the Sun, and vegetation, Emrys simply identified the general direction.
At this moment, he sincerely thanked Jackal and decided that if he had the chance in the future, he would definitely learn more survival skills from this veteran, to avoid being thrown into Catachan someday.
Emrys walked step by step, facing the scorching noon Sun in the desert.
The blazing Sun was like fire, and the hot sand became an excellent heat conductor. The air even showed signs of distortion, indicating how hot this damned weather truly was.
The Sun gradually shifted. After walking for two hours in the desert, Emrys, who had at one point doubted if he had taken the wrong direction, finally saw a village.
A village meant people lived there, and people meant there was definitely Water!
"God don't close every door. If I didn't find it, I would've had to use some psychic mind-trick type stuff to get out." Emrys' face lit up instantly. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was bone-dry; his throat felt like he'd been smoking a pack of heaters. He caught a second wind and booked it toward the village.
The village looked dilapidated, with houses made of mud, covered in cracks.
A few older people, wrapped in turbans, were initially surprised for half a second when they saw Emrys looking 'half-dead', but quickly turned and went into their houses.
Before long, an old man with a White turban and a face etched with the ravages of time, came out trembling, holding an earthenware pot: "Child, come quickly, have some water."
The language spoken by the other party was clearly not English, but fortunately, the 'Traveler System' could automatically translate, so there was no awkwardness of language barriers.
After the old man finished speaking, fearing Emrys wouldn't understand, he gestured with his hand, indicating that the pot contained water, and handed it to him.
"God bless, thank you so much." Emrys took the earthenware pot without a word, brought it to his mouth, and heartily drank the sweet well water.
His throat, which felt like it was on fire, was moisturized by the cool, sweet well water, and every pore on Emrys' body released a comfortable sigh.
"Don't rush, child, there's more if it's not enough, don't drink too fast." The old man gently patted Emrys' back, fearing he would choke, his wrinkled, Sun-darkened face filled with a benevolent smile.
"Thank you. If it weren't for you, I might have died of thirst in this desert." Emrys drank his fill and sincerely thanked the old man.
"Don't thank me, child. Though the desert is cruel, the people who live in it are not cold-hearted." The old man chuckled, took the empty earthenware pot, and smiled: "By your appearance, you must have come to the desert for an adventure and then accidentally got lost, right?"
In a way, Emrys' attire did make him look like a rich young master who, on a whim, came to conquer the desert like an idiot.
"Uh, yes, old man." Emrys awkwardly scratched his head, only able to go along with it.
"You've come to the wrong place, this is a cursed place, child." The old man suddenly sighed, shook his head, and said: "Rest for a bit, then leave quickly. Head northwest, and after about thirty miles, you'll be out of this desert."
"A cursed place?"
Hearing the old man say this, Emrys became interested: "Could you tell me more, old man?"
Perhaps he could find some clues, at least to understand this world, otherwise, he was completely clueless and didn't know where to start.
"Alas, child, I won't lie to you, there's a terrorist organization nearby."
The old man thought Emrys didn't believe him and earnestly advised: "An outsider like you, if they find you, they'll just abduct you, that's why I told you to leave quickly."
Emrys was about to ask what kind of terrorist organization it was when he saw dust rising like waves outside the village. Several painted Hummers sped through the swirling yellow sand!
"Oh no, they're here!"
The old man's face changed in a panic. He fearfully pulled Emrys, trying to get him into the house: "Quick, child, hide quickly, or if they find you, you're dead."
Emrys was hidden in the mud house. Several military Hummers drove directly into the village. Several burly men, with their heads covered and carrying firearms, jumped out from the back.
"Jamil, it's time to hand over the grain." The leading burly man, with a sinister smile, held an AK47 and shouted arrogantly: "Everyone get out, don't make me come in and search!"
"Ahmed, you've already been here this month, we really have no more grain!" Jamil pleaded humbly: "Look, there's no one left in the entire village, only old people. Where would we get more grain?"
"Less talk, will you hand it over yourself, or should we search?"
Ahmed kicked down the elderly man and aimed his AK47 at his forehead: "Your contribution of grain is for the great victory. Don't give me any more trouble, or I'll blow your brains out!"
The people in the village, as Jamil said, were only a dozen or so elderly households left.
But they didn't care how old you were, they violently pressed their firearms against their heads, shouting for them to hand over the remaining grain.
Whether they handed over the grain or not, there were only two paths before them.
Either they starved to death, or they were shot.
Completely desperate, Jamil's lips trembled. Two lines of muddy tears flowed from his empty eyes. Facing the gun barrel at his forehead, he roared at them: "Allah, please punish these sinners. Let them fall into hell!"
"Bastard, you dare curse me?"
Ahmed was enraged. His index finger was about to pull the trigger to kill the damned old man.
Jamil's eyes showed no fear, as if he already knew his fate. He stared at them intensely, as if to memorize their faces, waiting for them in hell!
Click!
Ahmed, who was about to pull the trigger, suddenly froze.
He suddenly found that no matter how hard he tried, the trigger was as if welded, completely motionless!
Immediately after, to the terrified gazes of the terrorists.
Ahmed's head, like an inflated balloon, swelled, until, amidst his horrified, distorted face, it burst apart!
Sometimes, one must admit, psionics are truly too useful!
After using psionics to blast Ahmed's head, the remaining dozen terrorists were instantly scared shitless, screaming with faces full of terror.
"Djinn! It's a Djinn!"
"It must be a Djinn, a Djinn killed Ahmed!"
"Allah, save us!"
A ridiculous scene unfolded among the terrorists.
Jamil stared at the scene, dumbfounded, seemingly still processing it. The once arrogant Ahmed had died just like that?
Could it be that Allah had truly manifested?
But just then, a young and handsome face flashed through Jamil's mind.
The old man was not foolish; he knew very well that if Allah could truly manifest, then the village would not be in its current state, and this country would certainly not be like this!
So, the only explanation... Jamil turned to look at the room.
Emrys slowly walked out of the house, looking at the madly screaming terrorists, and gently placed his index finger on his lips: "Shh, quiet down."
Instantly, the screaming terrorists' mouths were sealed, unable to make any sound no matter what.
Under their complex gazes, mixed with fear and anger, Emrys sat cross-legged, his eyes indifferent, and softly said: "Now, whatever I ask, you answer. Nod if you understand."
A few terrorists reacted a beat too slow, and their heads were flattened as if pressed, directly sinking into their chests, leaving only empty necks as their bodies swayed and fell to the ground.
"I don't like to waste time, so you'd better react quickly, understand?" Emrys narrowed his eyes, a chilling killing intent emanating from his pupils.
This time, the remaining five terrorists nodded frantically like garlic-pounding machines, terrified of being even half a step slow and having their heads flattened.
"Very good, first question."
Emrys raised his hand and pointed at the first person on the left, asking: "What is your organization called?"
"It's called, called..."
He was so scared he wet his pants, his face crumbling, his words jumbled.
Crack!
Emrys didn't bother with nonsense, directly twisting his neck 360 degrees, and then pointed at the second person: "You speak."
"Ten Rings! We are members of the Ten Rings!"
Clearly, this person had learned from the previous one's experience and answered with top-notch speed.
Ten Rings?
Upon hearing this name, Emrys paused for half a second.
If he remembered correctly, this seemed to be a villainous organization that had appeared in the Marvel universe, right?
"Did you kidnap Tony Stark?" To confirm his thoughts, Emrys asked directly.
"Who is Tony Stark?"
The person looked bewildered, blinking, and appeared foolish.
Emrys was slightly disappointed, then directly pulled his head, along with his spine, out of his chest.
"Djinn! You never intended to let us go!"
The fourth person watched with wide eyes as the three people next to him died in various ways, finally recognizing reality, and roared furiously: "Go to hell, you damned Djinn!"
Won't speak?
Emrys smiled. Trying to act tough in front of him, did he really think not being afraid of death was enough?
Psionics of the psychic type have quite convenient uses in many aspects.
For example, crushing every single bone.
Unfortunately, the fourth person's bones weren't that hard, and he soon begged Emrys to kill him.
"You haven't answered my question yet." Emrys controlled his strength well, trying to make this guy die a little slower.
"I, I don't know who Tony Stark is." The fourth person groaned in pain, screamed, and said in despair: "But I know that someone was recently captured by the leader and imprisoned in a secret room. As for the rest... I don't know. Please, kill me!"
Hmm, it roughly matched the plot; the person captured should be Tony Stark.
Emrys twisted his neck with psionics and shifted his gaze to the fifth person, who was trembling and already consumed by fear: "It's your turn. Where is your base?"
"Fifty miles east, you'll see our base!"
The fifth person seemed afraid of not saying enough, and immediately added: "The captured person is being held by Raza in a cave in the southwest corner of the base, guarded by many people!"
"Thank you for your cooperation."
Emrys nodded with satisfaction and twisted his neck.
Very good, the village finally returned to peace. Without the sound of scum, the air seemed much fresher.
The only flaw was that it seemed a bit messy.
Looking at the filth on the ground, Emrys felt a little guilty. He helped the fallen old man Jamil up: "I'm sorry, I went a bit overboard and dirtied your village. I hope everyone won't mind."
"No, no, my child, you don't need to apologize."
Jamil gratefully grasped his hand, his voice trembling slightly: "If it weren't for you, I'm afraid we would all have died here today. This must be the arrangement of Allah!"
If it weren't for Emrys, this village would have disappeared today.
Just like other villages, after their food, able-bodied young men, and women were plundered, the remaining useless elderly would starve to death.
The only remaining dozen or so elderly people in the village all expressed their gratitude to Emrys for saving them.
Some even held out dry cakes made from flour, trembling as they offered them to him: "Child, we have nothing to give you, and no way to express our gratitude. If you don't mind this cake, please take it and eat it."
The cake was baked dry and hard, but Emrys showed no dislike. After taking the cake and thanking them with a smile, he bit into it and mumbled: "It tastes great, old man!"
This was not flattery. Perhaps if this cake were in his previous life, he would most likely not be able to swallow it.
But in the lower hive, this stuff was much tastier than energy bars or nutritional porridge. Flour was a delicacy only enjoyed by nobles!
After accepting the thanks from the group of elders, Emrys proposed his intention to leave.
Jamil was a little reluctant and warmly invited Emrys, wanting him to stay in the village for a couple more days, but the latter refused.
Finally, the regretful Jamil filled a whole bag with Water and handed over a few cakes: "Child, take these things. You'll need them on the road."
Emrys left all the guns, including two military Hummers, and drove one Hummer by himself, heading east.
Sitting in the driver's seat of the Hummer, Emrys gripped the steering wheel with one hand, looking at the vast yellow sand, his lips slightly curved: "Iron Man, Tony Stark, his Arc Reactor should be considered a high-quality energy source, right? It's truly exciting!"
He hadn't expected the Traveler System to bring him to the famous Marvel universe this time!
As the saying goes, danger and opportunity coexist.
The Marvel universe perfectly suited Emrys' current predicament.
Iron Man's armor, Captain America's serum, the Infinity Stones, and so on, were simply a huge treasure trove waiting for Emrys!
Of course, the most important thing was to obtain 'Source Power'!
Emrys wanted to set the Marvel universe as the 'Anchor Point' for the Traveler System, so he could slowly excavate this massive treasure trove!
The Ten Rings' base was loosely defended, at least from Emrys' current perspective; it was practically riddled with holes.
He parked the military Humvee a few miles away and, to avoid alerting them, quietly snuck over under the cover of night.
He had expected, at the very least, an extremist organization that kidnapped Tony Stark in the movie, but there were only a few scattered sentries, two of whom were even dozing off.
"Alright, alright, no wonder Obadiah was able to wipe them out; they're too weak!"
No hidden sentries, no patrols, no alerts—the entire camp exuded a sense of laxity, making Emrys, who had carefully and vigilantly snuck in, feel like a complete Joker.
"Fuck, is this even considered a terrorist organization?" Emrys was so angry his liver hurt, and he couldn't help but curse in a low voice, "They're not even as good as the lower hive's gangs. If Old Mi and Obadiah weren't backing them, I wouldn't believe it for a second that this bunch of rotten fish could attack Tony Stark."
If it were ran, he could cut off the Ten Rings leader's head in the time it takes to smoke a cigarette, then swagger out with it.
But complaints aside, business still had to be done!
Under the cover of the desert night, Emrys, using the techniques he learned from ran, slipped into the base like a ghost in the darkness, utterly silent.
"Perfect, I can use this opportunity to practice my infiltration skills." Emrys drew the combat knife from his waist, crouched low, and moved forward slowly, his breathing light, his footsteps almost imperceptible.
Soon, he reached behind the first sentry and, with lightning speed, suddenly sprang up.
Mouth covered, throat cut—two actions performed in one smooth motion, without the slightest pause.
The sentry's eyes widened, filled with terror, and he died without ever knowing who had killed him.
"Hmm, the movements are still not clean enough." Emrys carefully analyzed the series of actions during the assassination, finding a small mistake: the range of motion was too large, making it easy to create sound.
If ran had done it, there would have been no sound at all, and certainly not this much blood.
Since he found the mistake, the rest was just a matter of correcting it little by little.
Fortunately, there were still plenty of scumbags in the base, more than enough for him to practice slowly and correct his errors.
As for asking why? There was no special reason. Jamil gave him a clay pot of clear water, and in return, Emrys would eliminate this organization for him.
Plus, he could practice the techniques ran taught him—two birds with one stone. Could anything be better?
"The angle of the knife was off by a few degrees."
"Observe the surrounding environment to avoid making unnecessary noise."
"Hmm, next time I can stab directly into the heart; that way, not too much blood will splatter."
"This is valuable combat experience!"
After taking care of the last sentry, Emrys wiped the blood from his combat knife and turned his gaze towards the tents of the base.
There should still be quite a few scumbags inside, right?
Just as Emrys was about to sneak into a tent to deal with the people inside, someone suddenly walked out of a cave.
"Shit!"
Emrys cursed under his breath, knowing his plan was ruined.
Sure enough, the man immediately saw the yellow sand stained red with blood and the tragically dead sentries. With a face full of horror, he was about to run back into the cave.
Emrys didn't say a word, drew the bolter from his waist, and pulled the trigger directly.
Bang!
The sound of the bolter was extremely loud, especially in the open desert environment.
The man's head and upper body were instantly shattered by a single bolt, and the bullet even embedded itself in the cave, blasting a dent the size of a washbasin!
Blowing away the smoke from the muzzle, Emrys' expression was calm: "Very good, now it's training for Subject Two: marksmanship and close-quarters combat."
As his voice fell, a piercing alarm suddenly broke the silent night.
The terrorists, awakened by the alarm, rushed out of their tents with guns. Upon seeing the slain sentries, they, without any training, began to indiscriminately spray bullets with their AK47s, relying on random marksmanship to overwhelm the enemy with sheer momentum!
Although Emrys was wearing carapace armor, it only covered his upper body and he had no helmet. If he got a headshot, he'd have nowhere to complain.
He rolled and hid behind cover, rubbing his brow, a bit helpless: "Couldn't they just stay in bed so I could kill them one by one and save some ammo?"
One must know, the Astra Militarum standard bolter ran gave him only had forty rounds in total.
Each round was precious, and once used, they couldn't be replenished, which made Emrys a bit conflicted. Using them on these scumbags really made his heart ache!
As for the Plasma Gun… forget it, these scumbags aren't worthy!
As Emrys pondered, he decided to conserve his ammunition. So, he activated his deflection field defense shield and rushed out from behind cover at an extremely fast speed.
Clatter! Clatter! Clatter!
A volley of bullets hit the carapace armor, completely deflected, not even scratching the paint.
With the 'deflection field defense device' active, Emrys didn't have to worry about a lucky headshot. After several evasive maneuvers between covers, he directly closed the distance with the terrorists.
"Kill him! Kill him!"
A big-bearded man who seemed to be of high rank ordered the person next to him to pick up a Rocket launcher.
But just as he was about to aim, Emrys' lips curved slightly upwards, and a God of Death's smile appeared on his face: "Excellent, it's finally within attack range. Next… it's my showtime!"
The surrounding temperature dropped rapidly, and a thin layer of frost even condensed in the desert.
It was as if countless wailing souls echoed in the wind, and the heads of the terrorists opposite exploded one after another, like smashed watermelons!
Pop! Pop! Pop!
If there were a filter, it would surely have been a spectacular fireworks display.
"Djinn! He is a Djinn!"
"Help me!"
"No, I surrender, don't kill me!"
But alas, no matter how much those terrorists begged for mercy, they could not escape death.
Soon, the Ten Rings' base returned to silence.
A mixture of red and white viscous filth was splattered haphazardly across the yellow sand, like paint on a canvas.
Just then, a gunshot suddenly rang out from the cave.
"Come on! Come on! You cowards!"
A giant ironman, with flames injection from his arms, rushed out of the cave, shouting excitedly: "Tony Stark is right here! Get out… get out…"
Ironman's movements suddenly froze, as if he had been struck by a witch's paralysis spell.
Looking at the chaotic base, littered with brains and headless bodies, Ironman, after a brief mental storm, threw up.
"Ugh—Fuck, fuck, what is this?!"
Tony's stomach churned, and he wished he could vomit up everything he had eaten the day before yesterday.
It was then that he saw the young man in the desert, looking at him with a strange gaze: "Are you alright?"
Their first meeting left Tony with a profound psychological trauma.
So much so that after he returned, Tony completely avoided all foods associated with the words "white" and "viscous."