"Oof!"
A boot slammed into Marcus's ribs, sending him sprawling onto the rocky ground. The ammunition crate he'd been carrying crashed down beside him, nearly crushing his hand.
"Ha ha ha ha!"
Laughter erupted from the guards standing nearby. Three of them. All armed. All finding this hilarious.
Marcus didn't move. Didn't react. Didn't even look up.
Because all three of those bastards had their AKs pointed right at him.
I hate it when people point guns at me, Marcus thought bitterly, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached.
But he swallowed the rage. Forced it down. Buried it deep where it couldn't get him killed.
Instead, he pushed himself up slowly, ignoring the fresh pain radiating from his side, and picked up the ammunition crate again. His arms trembled as he lifted it. His back screamed in protest. But he kept moving, hauling the crate toward the storage area like nothing had happened.
He'd remember them, though.
The two who'd been harassing him all day.
One was a black guy—tall, broad-shouldered, with an ugly sneer permanently plastered on his face. The other was white, pale and sickly-looking, like he'd spent too much time underground. Also ugly. Also a complete asshole.
Marcus had memorized their faces.
When I get back, he promised himself, when I come back with power, I'm going to kill both of you.
Life as a slave in the Ten Rings camp was exactly as brutal as Marcus had expected.
Work from sunrise to sunset. Carry ammunition. Haul food supplies. Move equipment. All of it under the watchful eyes of armed terrorists who'd shoot you for looking at them wrong.
And if you dared to resist? If you tried to fight back, or run, or even just refuse an order?
Bullets. That was the answer. Always bullets.
Marcus had seen it happen twice in the past ten days. Two men who'd tried to stand up to the guards. Two corpses left to rot in the sun as a warning to everyone else.
But that wasn't even the worst part.
The worst part was the disappearances.
People would just... vanish. One day they'd be there, hauling crates alongside you. The next day they'd be gone, and someone new would show up to take their place.
Marcus didn't know where the missing people went, but he could guess.
Human trafficking.
The Ten Rings weren't just terrorists. They were slavers, too. Selling people to other criminal organizations, warlords, whoever was buying.
And Marcus? He was low on the value chain. Just another faceless laborer. Disposable. Easy to replace.
Women disappeared more often than men. Marcus had seen it happen—guards dragging women out of the slave quarters, ignoring their screams, taking them somewhere else. He didn't have to guess what happened next. Everyone knew. And everyone kept their mouths shut, because opening your mouth meant getting shot.
In just ten days, Marcus had seen the absolute worst of humanity.
Evil. Darkness. Cruelty for cruelty's sake.
But he endured it.
Because tonight, everything would change.
By the time the sun finally set, Marcus was barely standing.
Hours of labor had left him covered in fresh bruises and cuts. His muscles felt like they were made of lead. His hands were bleeding from where the rough crates had torn his skin.
For dinner, they got a bowl of slop. Some kind of gray, sticky paste that tasted like nothing and probably had the nutritional value of cardboard. Marcus forced it down anyway. He needed the calories.
When he was done, he shuffled back into the slave quarters with the rest of the workers and found a spot on the floor to collapse.
It was dark now. Time to rest.
But Marcus wasn't planning to sleep for long.
His best window to act was in the middle of the night, when the guards were tired and distracted. He needed to be ready.
So he closed his eyes, let exhaustion pull him under, and waited.
A few hours later, Marcus's eyes snapped open.
He didn't move. Didn't sit up. Just lay there in the darkness, listening.
Around him, the other slaves were asleep. Two hundred bodies packed into the cave, breathing in ragged, exhausted rhythms. Through the narrow windows, Marcus could see the night sky—a thin crescent moon and a scattering of stars.
The guards at the entrance were dozing. One of them had his head tilted back against the wall, mouth open. The other was staring off into space, barely awake.
In the distance, Marcus could see the faint glow of patrol torches moving along the perimeter. But no one was watching the slave quarters closely. Why would they? The slaves were too broken, too terrified to try anything.
Perfect.
Marcus took a slow breath and closed his eyes again.
System.
The interface appeared instantly, glowing softly in his mind's eye.
During the day, Marcus hadn't had time to study the system properly. Too many guards. Too much work. Too many eyes on him.
But now? Now he had all the time he needed.
The first thing he checked was the time mechanics.
When he traveled to another world, how much time would pass here in the Marvel universe?
The answer that came back made Marcus's heart leap:
Negligible.
No matter how long he stayed in another world—days, weeks, even months—when he returned to the Marvel universe, it would be seconds after he left.
"Holy shit," Marcus whispered, a grin spreading across his face.
That changed everything.
He could spend weeks in another world, training, gathering resources, getting stronger, and come back here with almost no time lost. He wouldn't miss Stark's escape. Wouldn't lose his window to get out.
It was perfect.
The second thing he learned was about the time limit in other worlds.
He couldn't stay forever. His time in another universe was tied to the plot duration of the source material.
For example: Limitless was a movie that ran about 90 minutes. But the actual plot spanned over a year—from Eddie Moran's first dose of NZT to his campaign for president. That meant Marcus could stay in the Limitless universe for about a year before the system would pull him back.
If he wanted to stay longer? He'd have to spend more Origin Points.
And the way to earn more Origin Points?
Two methods.
Method One: Change the plot.
Do something that alters the story. Save someone who was supposed to die. Steal something important. Break the timeline. The bigger the change, the more Origin Points he'd earn.
But changing the plot was risky. Once you started messing with things, you couldn't predict how the story would unfold.
Method Two: Follow the plot.
Let events play out as they were supposed to. Don't interfere. Just observe. This method was safer, but the Origin Point rewards were much smaller—usually just enough to cover the cost of the trip.
Marcus weighed his options.
Changing the plot gives more points, but it's dangerous. Following the plot is safe, but I won't gain much.
He'd have to play it by ear. See what opportunities presented themselves.
One more thing: when he traveled, his physical body would go with him. He wouldn't leave a corpse behind or anything like that. He'd just... vanish.
That worked for Marcus. Less chance of someone noticing something weird.
Alright. He was ready.
Marcus opened his eyes and stared up at the dark ceiling of the cave.
Limitless.
That was the world he was going to. The world where a struggling writer named Eddie Moran discovered a miracle drug called NZT-48—a pill that unlocked 100% of your brain's potential.
With NZT, you became a genius. Perfect memory. Superhuman focus. The ability to learn languages in days, master skills in hours, see patterns and connections no one else could.
But NZT had side effects. Physical discomfort. Mood swings. Withdrawal symptoms that could kill you if you stopped taking it.
Still, it was the best option Marcus had.
He could've gone to the Ip Man universe and trained in Wing Chun for years. But that would take years. And he wasn't some kung fu prodigy. He was a nineteen-year-old accountant who'd never thrown a punch in his life.
NZT, though? NZT was instant power. Pop a pill, and suddenly you were the smartest person in the room.
And the best part? In the movie, Eddie eventually created a perfected version of NZT with no side effects.
That was Marcus's goal. Get NZT. Use it to get rich. Come back with money and weapons. Blow this place off the map.
Simple.
"Travel to the Limitless universe," Marcus thought.
"Confirm: Travel to Limitless world?"
"Confirm."
"Please select time and location."
And then—
The system did something Marcus hadn't expected.
The entire movie started playing in his head. Not a summary. Not a description. The actual movie. Every scene, every line of dialogue, every camera angle. It was like watching it on a screen inside his mind.
Marcus blinked.
Oh. That's... actually really helpful.
He'd seen Limitless years ago. He remembered the general plot, but a lot of the details were fuzzy. Being able to rewatch it now—just to refresh his memory—was a huge advantage.
So Marcus settled back and watched.
The movie followed Eddie Moran, a washed-up writer living in New York. His girlfriend had just dumped him. His book deal was falling apart. His life was a disaster.
Then he ran into his ex-brother-in-law, Finn, a sketchy drug dealer who gave him a sample of NZT-48.
One pill, and Eddie's life transformed overnight. Suddenly, he could write an entire novel in four days. He cleaned his apartment. He got back together with his girlfriend. He started day-trading stocks and made millions.
Everything was perfect.
Until it wasn't.
Finn got murdered. Eddie's stash of NZT got stolen. A Russian mobster started hunting him. The side effects started kicking in.
But Eddie survived. He found a chemist to help him create a perfected version of NZT with no side effects. By the end of the movie, he was running for president.
The whole thing took place over about a year.
Marcus watched it all, taking mental notes.
When it was over, he knew exactly when he needed to go.
"System. Take me to the Limitless universe. Location: outside Finn's apartment. Time: three minutes before Eddie arrives after Finn's been killed."
Marcus had chosen the perfect moment.
Finn—the drug dealer—would already be dead. His apartment would be trashed by the people who killed him, but they'd have already left. And Eddie wouldn't show up for another three minutes.
Which meant Marcus would have a three-minute window to search the apartment and steal Finn's entire stash of NZT before Eddie got there.
It was the perfect heist. Clean. Simple. Low-risk.
And it would give Marcus hundreds of pills. Enough NZT to last him months. Maybe even a year.
"Location confirmed: Outside Finn's apartment. Time confirmed: Three minutes before Eddie Moran's arrival. Total cost: 2 Origin Points. Confirm travel?"
"Confirm."
A faint light flickered in the darkness of the cave.
And then Marcus was gone.
His body vanished from the floor of the slave quarters. No sound. No explosion. Just a quiet shimmer, and then nothing.
No one saw it happen. The guards were still dozing. The other slaves were still asleep.
For a single second, the space where Marcus had been was empty.
And then—
Another flicker of light.
Marcus reappeared in the exact same spot, lying on the floor as if he'd never left.
At first glance, nothing about him had changed. Same clothes. Same bruises. Same exhausted, half-starved body.
But his eyes—
His eyes were different.
There was something in them now. A depth. A sharpness. A cold, calculating intelligence that hadn't been there before.