The morning sun filtered weakly through the curtains, painting stripes of pale gold across the floor. Students bustled in the courtyard outside, their voices loud, carefree, ignorant.
He sat at his desk, already awake, already writing.
On the page, a list of potential items scrawled in his meticulous script. Not weapons, not relics of destruction. Those were for children, for fools who mistook spectacle for strength.
His eyes scanned the names carefully:
Hermes' Sandals → Speed trials.
Book of Thoth → Knowledge expansion.
Invisible Cloak (Potterverse) → Stealth verification.
Nanotech Fabricator (MCU) → Resource creation.
Portable Healing Potion (generic RPG) → Biological testing.
He tapped the pen lightly against the desk. Five items, carefully chosen. Each one a test of principle. Speed, knowledge, stealth, creation, restoration. Not the loudest tools, but the most necessary.
Strategy wasn't about swinging the biggest sword. It was about setting the board, piece by piece, until victory was inevitable.
He leaned back, eyes narrowing. Today, the experiment continues.
Campus life moved as always, buzzing with trivialities. Groups of friends walked together, laughing about gossip. Others rushed to class, late as usual. In the cafeteria, lines stretched as students shoved for breakfast.
He blended into the crowd like a shadow, tray in hand. The food was bland, mass-produced, unfit for anything but sustenance. He ate mechanically, expression empty.
Around him, conversation flowed. Complaints about assignments, jokes about professors, debates about weekend plans. None of it touched him. Their world was small, a cage of ignorance and routine.
And he was already outside it.
When the meal ended, he rose silently and walked out. No one noticed his departure. No one ever did.
In a secluded corner of campus — a forgotten storage room near the old library — he found his sanctuary. Dust covered the shelves. Broken chairs and unused furniture lay stacked against the wall. No one came here.
Perfect.
He locked the door behind him, drew the blinds, and sat cross-legged on the floor.
"Inventory," he whispered.
The void opened.
Endless shelves appeared once more, glowing faintly in the dark. His cold eyes swept across them, then settled on the first choice.
"Summon: Hermes' Sandals."
A shimmer of light, and the sandals appeared before him. Golden, winged, pulsing faintly with divine energy.
He slipped them on. The world blurred.
One moment he was sitting. The next, he stood on the opposite end of the room, heart steady, breath calm. The speed was instantaneous, without friction, without strain.
Again, he willed movement. In a blink, he was back in his original spot. Not teleportation — no, this was movement accelerated to divine scale. His body had adjusted flawlessly. No torn muscles, no broken bones.
He smiled faintly. "Perfect integration."
Test 1 successful.
The sandals vanished back into the void.
"Next. Summon: Book of Thoth."
A massive tome floated into existence, its cover inscribed with symbols that hurt mortal eyes. He opened it calmly, fingers brushing across the parchment. Words flowed into his mind — languages, sciences, mathematics, histories both human and alien. Knowledge beyond comprehension poured into him, but he absorbed it all, filtering, categorizing, storing.
His lips curved into a thin smirk. "So much wasted on pharaohs and priests. Yet here it is, mine to claim."
Already, new designs bloomed in his mind: circuits, energy blueprints, chemical formulas that could rewrite medicine. If he released even one page of this knowledge, he could alter the world.
But he closed the book gently, storing it back into the void.
"Not yet. The pawn moves only when the board is set."
Test 2 successful.
"Next. Cloak of Invisibility."
The fabric slid across his shoulders, light as air. He looked down. His body was gone, completely erased from sight. He snapped his fingers softly. The sound echoed in the room, but his form remained unseen.
He stepped forward, backward, paced in silence. Even when he deliberately brushed against a chair, the fabric adjusted, bending reality to conceal the interaction.
Invisible. Untouchable.
Another smirk. "Stealth confirmed."
He dispelled it, returning the cloak to the shelves.
"Nanotech Fabricator."
A cube appeared, humming faintly. He placed it on the ground, watched as it unfolded into a miniature factory, gleaming with alien technology. At his thought, it produced a bar of pure titanium. Then gold. Then a processor.
Limitless resources, manufactured at will.
The implications were vast. With this alone, he could buy empires, topple economies. Yet he dismissed it after a single glance. Power was meaningless without silence.
The cube folded back, returning to nothingness.
"Final test. Healing Potion."
A vial of glowing liquid appeared in his hand. He studied it carefully, then drew a small blade from the void — nothing extraordinary, just steel. Without hesitation, he dragged the edge across his palm. Blood welled up, dripping onto the floor.
He drank the potion.
Instantly, the wound sealed, leaving perfect skin behind. No scar, no trace.
"Excellent."
The potion dissolved into the void.
He sat in silence, blood wiped clean, the room undisturbed.
One by one, each principle had been proven. Speed. Knowledge. Stealth. Creation. Restoration. The foundations of empire.
He closed his eyes briefly, letting the weight of it settle. Others, given such gifts, would flaunt them. They would rush out to crush enemies, to seize fame, to revel in chaos.
Fools. Children.
He was not them.
His mind was already moving three steps ahead. How to hide. How to build in secret. How to construct a network of shadows, pawns who never knew they served, while he remained the invisible king.
He would attend classes as usual. Fail quizzes deliberately. Smile faintly when professors sighed in disappointment. His disguise would remain perfect.
And all the while, in places like this forgotten room, he would test. He would build. He would plan.
When the mask finally fell, when his hand reached across the multiverse to claim dominion, there would be no warning. No resistance.
Only silence.
He opened his notebook, wrote calmly:
**Test Results:
Hermes' Sandals — flawless, no strain.
Book of Thoth — integration complete, knowledge categorized.
Cloak — total concealment.
Fabricator — infinite replication.
Potion — cellular restoration absolute.**
He tapped the pen lightly.
Phase One complete.
Outside, the bell rang, signaling another lecture. Students shuffled past, laughing, arguing, gossiping.
He closed the notebook, stood, and brushed the dust from his clothes.
Mask back on.
To them, he was just another poor student. Forgettable. Weak.
To reality itself, he was already something else entirely.
The game had begun.