Chapter 1: A Snap into the Unknown
Rain lashed the windshield, a relentless assault that drowned out the radio's static hum. Adam Stiels gripped the steering wheel, his diner uniform reeking of grease and burnt coffee. The Ohio highway stretched into the night, 2025's stormy sky a blur of gray clouds. At 22, he was scraping by, saving for a future he couldn't picture. Headlights flared in his rearview—a truck, too close, its horn a guttural roar. "Back off, man," he muttered, easing off the gas.
The truck didn't slow. It swerved, tires shrieking, and Adam's world shattered. Metal crunched like a god's fist, glass exploding in a glittering spray. Pain seared his chest, sharp and final, as the car spun into darkness. His last thought was absurd: I didn't finish my coffee. Darkness swallowed him, a cold void where screams died. Was this death? No gates, no flames—just silence. Panic surged, then faded as a pulse rippled through the abyss. A sarcastic voice echoed in his skull: "Well, kid, you botched that drive. Ready for a new gig?"
Light erupted, blinding. Adam gasped, lungs burning, sprawling on a cobblestone path. Oaks loomed, Spanish moss swaying like ghostly tendrils, the air thick with damp earth and a metallic tang. His jeans and apron were gone, replaced by a black blazer with a raven crest. Nevermore Academy towered ahead, its spires piercing the sky, stained glass glinting like watchful eyes. He'd binged Wednesday last month, laughing at its gothic quirks. Now, he was in it—post-Season 1, Episode 1, early September, Year 1. "No freaking way," he whispered, grinning.
A translucent HUD flickered, neon blue text scrolling: Time Control System Activated. Welcome, Adam Stiels. Level: 1. Abilities: Stop Time (1 minute), Slow Time (30 seconds, 3x slower), Accelerate Time (situational). Cooldown: 10 minutes. Stored Uses: 1 per ability, max 5. Level-Up: 100 uses (Stop/Slow combined). The voice chimed: "You're a time wizard now. Don't screw it up."
Adam waved a hand through the HUD, unyielding and private. "What the hell?" Transmigration, a system, Nevermore? He was a nobody, not an isekai hero. Yet here he was, alive, with powers and a snarky cosmic guide. His grin widened. "Alright, universe, let's play." The system pinged: Objective: Enroll at Nevermore. Don't die again. Good luck, hotshot.
He adjusted his blazer, striding toward the gates. Still Adam—sarcastic, prank-loving, quick-witted—but with a cosmic edge. His goals: survive, unravel this world, have some fun. Memory gaps nagged at him—blurry voids where plot details like the Hyde and Crackstone should be. Focus, Stiels. One step at a time. Nevermore's foyer was a cathedral of gloom, chandeliers casting shadows like spiderwebs across marble floors. Principal Weems, tall and regal in a cream suit, greeted him with a tight smile. "Mr. Stiels, welcome. Your enrollment was… unconventional, but your speedster abilities intrigue us."
"Speedster, huh?" Adam smirked, the system cloaking his time powers as an outcast ability. "Blink, and you'll miss me."
Weems' eyes narrowed, her voice clipped. "Mind your antics. This isn't a playground." She led him through halls lined with dour portraits of outcasts, their painted gazes tracking his every step. Adam's boots echoed on the stone floors, the air heavy with the scent of old wood and wax. He explored the grounds, gravel paths crunching underfoot, flanked by gargoyles perched like silent sentinels. The quad buzzed with outcasts—sirens giggling, psychics muttering about visions, a gorgon adjusting his cap to hide his snakes. This place is a gothic fever dream, Adam thought, awed by the spires' jagged beauty, their stone weathered by centuries of secrets. The foggy woods beyond whispered of hidden dangers, stirring his curiosity.
He spotted a girl with pink-streaked blonde hair pinning posters to a bulletin board, her energy a stark contrast to Nevermore's gloom. Enid Sinclair, werewolf, all sunshine and claws. His heart did a weird flip—part fanboy crush, part real chemistry. "Hey," he called, sauntering over. "You the welcome committee?"
Enid grinned, her eyes sparkling like a summer sky. "Only if you're not a total normie. I'm Enid. You're… new, huh?"
"Adam. Fresh off the cosmic bus." He winked, testing the waters. Her laugh was a melody, easing his nerves. "Not a normie, right? 'Cause I'm allergic," she teased, nudging his shoulder. They bantered about dorm life, Enid sharing tales of her werewolf quirks—how moonlight made her antsy, how her claws once shredded her favorite scarf. "You'll fit in here," she said, her smile warm. "Just don't tick off Wednesday. She's, like, intense."
Nearby, a girl in twin braids watched, her stare colder than a morgue. Wednesday Addams. Adam's grin widened. "You must be the resident grim reaper."
Wednesday's eyes flicked over him, dissecting. "You move too fast for a normie, Stiels. Care to explain?"
"Just gifted," he said, shrugging. Her suspicion was palpable, a blade hovering at his throat, but he wasn't spilling the time-travel beans yet. The system pinged: Nice dodge, but she's onto you. Try not to get dissected. Adam's mind churned: She's sharp. Gotta watch my step.
Weems ushered him to his dorm, a cramped room with creaky floorboards and a window overlooking fog-shrouded woods. Alone, Adam paced, reflecting on his new reality. Dead one minute, time lord the next. This place is nuts, but I'm not complaining. Enid's cute, Wednesday's scary, and I've got a cosmic prank machine. The system quipped: Flirting already? Don't trip over your ego, Romeo. The HUD's glow felt like a lifeline, but the memory gaps—Hyde, Crackstone, prophecy—gnawed at him. Why's my brain Swiss cheese?
He spotted Enid's room down the hall, stuffed animals lining her shelves like a plush zoo. Perfect prank territory. He focused, the HUD glowing: Stop Time: 10 seconds. Activate? "Hell yeah," he muttered. The world froze—Enid mid-step, a raven outside stuck mid-flap. Adam darted in, rearranging her animals into a conga line, each with a tiny paper hat crafted from a torn notebook page. The system snarked: "Conga line? Bold, but Enid's squeal might wake the dead."
Time resumed. Enid walked in, froze, then burst out laughing, clutching her sides. "Oh my God, who did this?!" Her delight was infectious, her eyes dancing with mischief. Adam leaned against the doorframe, feigning innocence. "No idea, but they've got style."
Wednesday appeared, her smirk faint but unmistakable. "A prankster. How… juvenile." Thing scuttled across the floor, tapping Adam's shoe as if in approval. Enid's laughter echoed as Adam slipped away, his monologue swirling: This is my shot. Enid's laugh is gold, Wednesday's glare is a challenge, and I've got a cosmic toy to play with. Let's see how far this goes. The system pinged: 1/100 uses. Don't waste it on stuffed animals, Romeo. Adam grinned, ready for whatever Nevermore threw at him next.