[Day one: Reward – Minor Healing Factor.]
[Day seven: Reward – Shunpo.]
[Day twenty-one: Reward – A cursed sword forged by Surtur.]
[Day fifty: Reward – Capsule Corp Capsules.]
[Day one hundred: Reward – Super Soldier Serum.]
[Day two hundred: Reward – Hito Hito no Mi.]
This list could easily be mistaken for a gamer's fantasy wishlist or the scribbled dreams of a delusional power-trip junkie. But for me, it's just... well, another day.
Or at least, what passes for a day in a place where time doesn't exactly follow conventional rules.
Call it a resume or a reward log or even more fitting it the journal of an overpowered, half-insane exile stuck in limbo with powers she didn't ask for and memories she probably shouldn't have.
Whatever you call it, this is what I've got.
And despite the absurdity, not all of them are useless.
Take Shunpo, for example. A high-speed movement technique used by Shinigami in the Bleach universe.
When I first saw it pop up as a reward on Day Seven, I laughed. I thought, "Sure, why not toss in some anime flash step nonsense into this whole mess?"
But boredom has a way of turning mockery into curiosity, and curiosity, combined with five millennia of accumulated knowledge makes for a terrifying learning curve.
You could say I mastered it at a glance. And maybe that's not entirely arrogance. With my unique constitution and affinity for soul manipulation, it didn't even feel like learning, just naturally did it crossing 70 meters easily.
Now? I can cross five to ten kilometers in a single step without explosive boom. Just silence, like the 'grim reaper' walking across the battlefield.
Tch. Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if I dropped into the Bleach verse just for the hell of it. Imagine the look on their faces—Yoruichi, Byakuya, even that smug bastard Urahara—as I blurred past them with a Shunpo that defied even their physics.
Heh.
I can already hear the collective "NANI?!"
But I digress. Imagination's running wild again. It happens more frequently these days, solitude does that to you, especially when your only companion is a mute kid with big eyes and the emotional range of a rock.
Today's reward, after thinking about it made me pause.
Ancient One used it on Strange and Banner in the MCU. The same technique that let sorcerers separate their consciousness from their physical form and walk among the layers of the unseen world.
At first, I thought it was cool. Then I thought it was useless.
Then, I dug into Hela's memories—and that's when things got interesting.
You see, Hela, the original one was also never the meditative type. She was a weapon forged for war, not peace, a blade sharpened to slay Odin's enemies.
She didn't have the luxury to sit under cherry blossom trees and contemplate the meaning of existence.
But somewhere deep in her memories, probably tucked behind the endless bloodshed and carnage, was a faint recollection of the Astral Plane.
Not remembering if she heard it from a long-dead sorcerer or someone she killed.
It's a realm where physical matter doesn't exist in the traditional sense. A plane of consciousness.
That's when the gears in my head started turning.
"If the Astral Plane exists as an independent dimension not bound by the rules of the physical world..." I murmured to myself, "...then could it act as a gateway? A bridge between realms?"
I glanced at Rocky.
He's a kid.
A weird, silent kid who showed up one day and just... stayed.
"Well? What do you think, Rocky?"
"(•_•)"
Of course, still the same expression and the same silence. (PS: Just her imagination, maybe?)
"Tsk. You think you're being cool with that brooding vibe, huh? Trust me, kid, it doesn't work. Not on me. And for the record—I don't like men. Let alone children. You're not my type."
Nothing.
I sighed and let it go. Rocky wasn't going to laugh at my jokes nor going to throw back a sarcastic jab.
Instead, I sat down on the edge of the jagged cliff that overlooked a void of swirling, cosmic nothingness. A fitting metaphor for my existence.
And then, I began to seriously consider the implications.
The Astral Plane doesn't function like our world. It's not defined by time or space as we know it with distance being malleable and time being subjective.
In some stories, entire journeys through the Astral Plane pass in what amounts to a blink in the physical world.
I remember that scene, was it in the comics or in the movies? Strange's consciousness yanked out of his body, flung through dimensions, all while his tea was still hot when he returned.
"Oh yeah, finally a f*cking good rewards, if I can go to Earth even if it's with my Astral Body, I can at least watch many interesting."
"I could even be like the ring grandpa— or grandma, guiding juniors and choose one who should be able to see Astral Body and make them use the Infinity Stones to free me, mwahahaha!"
I was really happy gaining something that could help me escape, still, I hope it's not like the cursed sword from Day Twenty-One.
Oh, Surtur, damn flaming moron.
For a guy who's supposed to forge world-ending weapons, he really dropped the ball with this one.
The sword looks cool at a glance—blackened metal, runes, a faint hellfire glow.
Very edgy and very 'I'm definitely compensating for something' But functionally? It's about as sharp as a butter knife after a long bath.
Seriously. I tried to slice through another rock, the annoying one and the blade bounced off.
I'm 90% sure Surtur was drunk when he made it.
Or maybe hungover.
Or both.
But hey—it makes for a good back scratcher.
After cursing Surtur, I clicked on the rewards and instantly, a flood of memories emerged in my mind about how one can leave the Physical Body, how to enter the Astral Plane, how to leave the Astral Plane, how to return to the body, how to use one's own power in the Astral Body though very limited, and many more...
Well, after these revelations, I even understand why the original Hela didn't know how to do it. The Astral Plane was simply a place where one goes if they need to find peace—how could the goddess of death need peace?
She always wants problems.
Still, I couldn't help but have a wild imagination. Hela with her bald head, robes flowing, sipping tea with the Ancient One.
"Peace and love, sister," she'd say.
I'd pay to see that crossover that would make Odin doubt his whole existence.
Anyway, she can't, but I can, I was dumped into this realm and expected to rot here like a prisoner with powers but no purpose, at least until Odin's death. So if this Astral Projection lets me peek at the real world—even just for a second—I'm going to make the most of it.
So, I immediately started trying like with the information in my head and God, it was... strange. And beautiful, huh, forget I'm a Goddess myself, should change my way of speaking.
I was focused, sitting cross-legged, levitating in the air.
I closed my eyes, centered my breathing, and followed the instructions that came with the reward—vague, mystical nonsense about 'letting go of the weight of the world'.
Didn't have much weight left anyway.
And then—
I was out.
My body slumped gently, still and calm while I floated upward.
Weightless, untethered and free.
•••
When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed wasn't some flashing lights or divine orchestra or even a typical booming narrator voice saying "Welcome to the Astral Plane."
It was silence, the kind of peaceful hush you'd get standing alone in a vast, open snowfield.
Still, something was… off.
You know that feeling when you take off your schoolbag after a whole day, and your shoulders suddenly feel featherlight? Multiply that by a thousand.
That's what I felt.
Like I'd been dragging something heavy with me every second of my life and only now did I realize it wasn't normal to feel that weighed down.
And get this, I could see my body. Like literally, it was right in front of me, just chilling there.
Not levitating anymore, just kind of… floating downward slowly like some majestic corpse drifting through jelly. Weird, right?
But it wasn't scary. In fact, it was fascinating.
In my past life, I'd never really seen myself properly. Sure, I had mirrors, took a few selfies, stared into the occasional puddle during my emo phase, but that doesn't count.
Mirrors lie, photos distort, and not even talking about filters.
Seeing myself now, from the outside, with no lens, no lighting tricks, no edits, it was kinda humbling.
And you know what? I looked damn fine.
Yeah, no kidding. I used to think those Marvel movies exaggerated the beauty and badass vibes of the characters.
I mean, sure, I watched them, read some comics, imagined what the real deal might be like, but it never captured the whole picture. The reality of this Marvel-esque world is way more intense.
As I circled my body, I noticed the face. It did have a hint, just a tiny hint of that Hela look from the movies. You know, Cate Blanchett's version, all angular, cold beauty and danger wrapped in class.
But I didn't have all that excessive glam like her spiky crown that I had thrown somewhere or heavy eye makeup. It was just what I naturally am.
Cleaner, pure black hair cascading down my back like a waterfall of ink, lips as dark as night, lashes like tiny blades, and green eyes that could probably make a god confess his sins and a jade beauty feel ashamed.
Seriously, if gothic queens had an Olympus, I'd be their Zeus, or Hades. Or both?
Now, the body is also another thing.
It wasn't fragile or overly slim like those beauty standard models. Nah, it was powerful and warrior-like with muscles in the right places, toned like someone who bench-presses monsters for fun.
But not too bulky, more like an Amazonian warrior forged by divine aesthetics.
The curves? Oh, let's not even pretend I wasn't packing. If I had to compare myself to anyone, maybe a Tsunade Pro Max version?
Probably a few Earthlings would look and call me mommy? Hehehe.
Honestly, it clashed with what you'd expect from being Odin's daughter, but hey, genetics are a mystery, and Odin probably wasn't exactly winning over my birth mother though well, my birth circumstances are a little strange.
"AHHH! Why does life always want to f*ck with me like this?!" I screamed—not out loud, but in that frustrated, soul-level kind of way. "Instead of meeting my fantasies, I became one! What kinda plot twist is this?!"
I mean, sure, since I know I'm reincarnated in Marvel, I used to fantasize about being surrounded by the hottest mutant babes from like, imagine—yandere Jean Grey with fire in her eyes and love in her fists.
Tsundere Rogue who'd act like she hated me but couldn't stop touching my soul (literally). Cool-as-ice Storm with those eyes and that voice.
Quiet Kitty Pryde blushing whenever I walked by. And let's not forget Squirrel Girl, whose tail—ahem—we're not gonna talk about.
But now I am the fantasy?
Still, it's not all bad. If I play this right, maybe I can meet them, I hope it's a universe where mutants exist, and I don't give a f*ck about how dangerous it can be. And if not, well, I'll damn well find a way to go to that universe for real. I'm stubborn like that.
But first things first—I needed to leave this damn place.
Anyway, I was technically already in the Astral Plane, or at least the surface level of it. I could see the physical world, hear the sound of it, and if I really focused, I could maybe even poke into people's dreams or minds, and even discuss with them assuming they had strong enough souls.
The real goal is to get to Earth, preferably with the full experience. Sights, smells, touch, food.
Oh god, I missed food, even though I could not eat for thousands of years and still be fine. And you know what's better than ambrosia or mystical godbread? Freakin' fries.
Earth food hits different.
Problem: I couldn't take my body with me.
Odin basically jacked it up with powerful runes. He used his own life force to bind me to Hel, essentially creating a magical prison out of my own flesh. Real father-daughter bonding moment.
The runes work like this: As long as Odin lives, my body can't leave Hel. If it tries, it just shuts down.
But here's the twist, those same runes are draining his life the longer he maintains them. It's like tying a balloon to a leaking air tank. Sooner or later, something's gonna give.
But lucky for me, he didn't count on one thing: Astral Projection.
The original Hela didn't know how to use it, and he probably didn't see this coming.
Still, there's a risk. While I'm out here gallivanting in the Astral Plane, some soul-snatcher or spiritual parasite could jump into my empty body. Happens all the time in myths and stories, especially in the Marvel World.
And if someone finds a pretty body lying around with no occupant, he will probably scream jackpot.
But I've made peace with it, just a few thousand of millions of curses if anyone dared to try snatching it.
As for the worst case, I just build a new one.
So, time to sink deeper into the Astral Plane. I needed to reach the second layer, the real meat of the Astral experience.
That's where the highways between worlds live. It was like if Earth and Hel are two points on a straight line—let's say, 100 kilometers apart.
Now between them is a thick wall, a barrier separating all the nine realms from each other.
But the Astral Plane doesn't care about any kind of walls. It exists above them. A third axis, like a bridge in the sky. A secret detour that goes around all the physical crap.
By projecting my soul high enough, I can bypass that whole barrier thing. It's like skipping the toll road and taking a flying shortcut instead, although this shortcut is, well, millions if not billions of light kilometers.
But the best part about Astral Plane is that it doesn't follow normal rules. Space, time, logic—those things bend and twist here. If your soul is strong enough—and mine is, thank you very much—you can cross entire galaxies in a heartbeat.
And that's exactly what I plan to do, Earth, I'm coming.
(END OF THE CHAPTER)
Still not a big change until now, it'll be completely different after the fourth chapter, but I will be pleased if you can give some powers stones.