"So this is how it ends,"
he thought as the pain dulled into cold.
Metal twisted. Blood pooled. Flames danced across the shattered asphalt. The sky above, once blue, was now black with smoke and static. Sirens cried somewhere far away—but none for him.
Yash didn't scream. He only smiled bitterly.
"Figures. Die trying to help someone, and the world still moves on."
His hand had pushed a child out of the car's path. A simple choice. A final one.
---
The Liminal Space
Then—darkness. Not oblivion. Something else.
He opened his eyes, or perhaps, opened his awareness.
He stood—not in body, but in essence—at the center of a cosmic sea. Endless stars pulsed like neurons in a divine mind. Planes drifted by like ancient spirits. Here, time wept and danced in fractal spirals.
And before him—It.
Not a god. Not an angel. Not even an alien.
A presence beyond comprehension. Wrapped in paradox. Voice without sound. Form without face.
---
"You died with choice in your heart. Not fear. Not regret. That makes you… interesting."
Yash felt no fear. Only clarity.
"Who are you?"
"Call me what you like. I am the Answerer. The Catalyst. The One Who Grants."
"So this is the afterlife?"
"No. This is the Threshold. You may return to the cycle… or step beyond."
---
"I will grant you one wish. Any power. Any essence. Any force your soul can carry."
"And a world where it shall matter. Choose wisely. And you may begin again."
Yash paused. The weight of it struck him like a starquake.
He remembered his dreams. The stories he loved. The powers he admired—not for their strength, but for their potential to uplift, protect, create.
And then he spoke:
"I want the power of pure Creation. To forge laws. To imagine life into being. To build, not conquer. I want to use it to inspire worlds."
The Presence pulsed with quiet satisfaction.
"And the world?"
A thousand universes danced before him.
But only one held his heart: Marvel. The endless mythscape. The theatre of gods and men. Where responsibility defined power.
"Send me to the Marvel Multiverse," he said.
"But… in its beginning. Before the heroes. Before the legends. Let me start there."
---
The stars cracked. The void shimmered.
The Presence whispered one final truth:
"Then rise, Dreamer. Architect. Flame of the First Forge. You shall be more than man. And what you create… shall echo across eternity."
And Yash fell, not down—but forward.
Into light.
Into cosmos.
Into a future only he could shape.
---
And thus begins the tale… of the Chosen Spark.
---