I'm bored, so I'm giving you all an extra chapter this week.
,.,.,.
god of destruction
Fury gave the order to lower their weapons, though it was clear he didn't have much of a choice.
Still, Owen didn't lower his right away.
"Just in case, my friend Nicolas will keep aiming for the head… for safety," he added calmly, lowering his weapon with deliberate ease, his gaze fixed on the black car parked a few meters away.
Through the tinted windows, Nicolas waved casually while aiming his rifle directly at Fury, wearing a relaxed smile and never blinking.
That made Fury frown.
"The windows are bulletproof," Owen added offhandedly, like he was talking about the weather.
Without wasting another second, he walked toward Rumlow, who lay sprawled on the ground—still alive, but immobilized after the first shootout. Owen's expression hardened, his eyes colder than steel. This was the face of a man who didn't forgive.
He crouched, raised his weapon again…
And without hesitation, fired four times—one shot for each limb.
Rumlow's screams choked in his throat as blood burst from his arms and legs, his body convulsing. For a tense moment, several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents nearly jumped in—but the unwavering threat from Nicolas' rifle kept them frozen.
Then, Owen pulled out a metallic syringe and injected it directly into Rumlow's neck without a word.
"This is truth serum," he said with unsettling calm, as if giving a lecture. "Agents like you are used to microdoses—you've trained to resist them. But this? This is a full overdose."
He stood slowly, letting his shadow loom over Rumlow like a looming guillotine.
"Ten times the normal dose. It should kill you in ten seconds. But you're bleeding out so fast it'll stretch that to thirty. Thirty seconds of exquisite agony. Not that I need all that time, honestly."
Fury narrowed his eyes. He'd seen ruthless men. He'd been one.
But Owen didn't yell. He wasn't angry.
He was calm. Cold. Controlled.
That made him infinitely more terrifying.
"You should've never tried to kill the General," Owen said, his voice devoid of pity. "I don't know what mission they gave you… but it was the worst mistake of your life."
Rumlow began to shake, his body twitching. It felt like liquid fire was coursing through his veins. His mind was unraveling, his consciousness slipping. He struggled to hold on—each second a punishment in itself.
"I'll say just one thing," Owen whispered, his eyes locked on him.
"Hail…"
Rumlow's mouth trembled. His jaw nearly dislocated from the pain, but he forced himself to speak.
"H… ha…"
Fury tensed. Everyone around him did too. A deadly silence fell over the entire field.
"HY—"
BANG!
Without even looking, Owen shifted his arm slightly and shot to the side—instantly killing an agent who'd just made a suspicious move. The body hit the ground with a lifeless thud.
"Looks like one of them almost got away," he muttered, eyes still fixed on Rumlow.
"…HYDRA…" Rumlow gasped finally, his voice fading. His eyes glazed over.
Silence.
Fury clenched his jaw. A few agents swallowed hard.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Three precise shots to the chest.
Owen didn't wait for Rumlow to bleed out.
He didn't wait for help to arrive.
He just made sure the bastard was dead.
No mercy. No second chances.
And most of all—a message to whoever might still be watching.
"Well. Looks like you've got your hands full," Owen said, turning on his heel with a sarcastic smirk. "We'll take what's ours and leave. Unless, of course, you want my help. Then maybe I'll consider saving what's left of your precious S.H.I.E.L.D.… once it's in ruins."
Without waiting for a reply, he headed for the truck, climbed into the driver's seat, and started the engine.
He drove off calmly, like he'd just wrapped up a board meeting.
Fury didn't move. He stood frozen, jaw tight, mind racing with cold fury.
He scanned each of his agents.
Some avoided his gaze. Others just looked completely lost.
As the truck and the black car disappeared into the distance, Fury finally touched the comm device in his ear.
"Report," he said grimly.
Miles away, high up in a tree, Clint Barton was crouched on a branch, surveying the field through his scope.
He glanced to his left—for just a second—and saw a bullet hole… right where his head had been seconds earlier.
"The General's kid had me in his sights. One wrong move, and I'd be toast," Barton said quietly, his voice heavier than usual.
"Understood. Return," Fury ordered, turning around while gripping his pistol tightly.
…
Inside the vehicle, Nathaniel's voice crackled through the radio, his tone mocking:
"Hey, kid—how'd you know that would work?"
"I didn't," Owen replied from the driver's seat, voice cool and easy.
"I was gonna shoot those bastards anyway. Too obvious. They were all aiming at you while I was just out here firing freely."
Nathaniel let out a dry laugh—equal parts sarcastic and bitter.
"So it's Hydra, huh? What a joke. They didn't see this coming? I mean, S.H.I.E.L.D. was built using Hydra's own cast-offs—defeated scientists, double agents. You'd have to be blind not to expect this."
Owen sighed through his nose.
"Tony did a good job. What do we do about Senator Stern?"
"Nothing. Let the idiots clean up their own mess. We've got a different mission," Nathaniel answered, his smile cold and calculating.
"It was true... he really was an excellent lab rat," Killian murmured as he reviewed the reports on his tablet.
The data comparisons between Brian and previous test subjects were brutal: regeneration, energy production, internal resistance—everything was off the charts.
"Doesn't matter if he dies," he added with a cheerful tone that clashed horrifically with the scene of torture.
"His data is worth more dead than alive. Take samples of everything. And erase every trace of his existence. Every cell. Every drop."
Killian grinned like a child with a new toy.
This experiment didn't just improve the Extremis Serum—it multiplied it by a hundred.
If he could recreate this idiot's biology… he'd have it all: immortality, absolute power, limitless energy.
And he wouldn't have to share it with anyone.
Meanwhile, the idiot in question—Brian—was still screaming.
But now his screams weren't just from physical pain. They were existential.
"N-No…! This… this isn't how it's supposed to go! I was supposed to become a god!"
The fire in his veins burned like molten acid.
"It was supposed to just happen… like in manga! In the novels! I reincarnated into the Marvel Universe, damn it! That makes me the protagonist! Girls should be falling for me, I should have a broken system, unlimited powers…"
His mind spiraled. His body was collapsing.
The pain hadn't stopped in two weeks.
Not a single break.
Only needles. Cuts. Scans. Burns. Serums. Shocks.
"I did everything right! I did what the main characters do—I waited for the world to hand it to me! I deserve this! I deserve to be the strongest! The chosen one!"
No one responded. None of the scientists even looked at him.
To them, he was just a particularly promising lab rat.
Until something new happened.
A cold, metallic chime echoed inside his skull.
Sharp. Clinical. Like a scalpel to the brain.
—
["Universal Overlord System" detected.]
Minimum requirements for activation:
• Survive 25 years in a hostile universe: ✔️
• Remain unnoticed your entire life: ✔️
• Possess superior intellect: ❌
• Demonstrate extreme physical effort: ❌
• Forge your own power through suffering and sacrifice: ❌
• Risk your life to save others: ❌
• Show leadership, conviction, and unbreakable will: ❌
• Not be a complete moron your whole life: ❌❌❌
—
Final evaluation: Host does not meet requirements. System will now uninstall.
—
The words vanished as quickly as they appeared, leaving only silence…
…and a cruel echo of mockery in his mind.
Brian froze.
Completely in shock.
Tears mixed with the blood pouring from his eyes, ears, and mouth.
His chest burned. His face twisted in rage and disbelief.
"NOOOOOOO!" he screamed with everything he had,
his body glowing with a blinding, unstable heat—
energy crackling around him like a nuclear core in meltdown.
The scientists noticed.
Too late.
"EVERYONE OUT! NOW!"
But it was already over.
One second later, the lab detonated.
It didn't just explode—it erupted, like the sun itself had descended into hell.
A wave of fire swept through the entire facility.
Walls. Equipment. People.
Nothing survived.
Not even Brian.
But in the end, the most pathetic isekai protagonist to ever reincarnate into Earth-199999
actually did something useful:
He died… and took all of Killian's research with him.
—
Several meters from ground zero, Killian's body was flung like a burning ragdoll.
He landed hard, half-buried among trees, his clothes shredded, face scorched, skin blackened.
Coughing and spitting blood, he staggered to his feet.
"What the hell…? The data! THE DATA!"
He stumbled toward the burning crater, limping, panicked.
Where his lab had stood was now a molten pit.
Even the soil had melted into lava.
"No… no no no… YOU IDIOTS! MY DATA! MY WORK!"
But there was nothing.
Only ashes.
Brian—the dumbass who thought he'd become a god without lifting a finger—
did become one.
For one single second.
A god of destruction… by accident.