A new world (Marvel X DC)

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I can be a hero and save thousands of lives, but that's exactly why I can never reveal what truly happens within the walls of Babylon and Nidavellir.

Even if something is being created there that could extend every human's lifespan, I decided long ago that I would keep it secret. From the very beginning of my journey, that was my choice—and my burden to bear.

And I'm not alone in that kind of selfishness. Even so-called superheroes are guilty of it, though most would never admit it aloud. Take Superman, for example. Everyone sees him soaring gracefully through the endless blue sky, basking in the cheers of a grateful city.

The people of Metropolis regard him as a flawless savior, a symbol of hope. But has anyone ever stopped to really think about the other side of that myth? How many lives, hidden behind the grand spectacle of his battles, never made it through the day? In just one brutal confrontation with Zod, how many innocent souls perished beneath the collapsing steel and concrete? Was his triumph truly worth those sacrifices? Who can say for certain? Clark Kent could have saved far more lives if he had chosen a different path.

With his X-ray vision, super-speed, and the mind of a Kryptonian that calculates faster than the most advanced quantum computer, he could have become the greatest doctor humanity has ever known. The reach of his abilities is near divine, and yet he spends his days behind a typewriter, scribbling down stories for a newspaper.

I don't say that to criticize him. I'm not using him as an excuse for my own moral decisions either. The point is simpler and far more human—no one is without flaws, not even an alien god who walks among men. Yesterday turned out to be an eventful day… or perhaps not. It depends on one's perspective.

To an outsider, nothing unusual had happened. But for me, the day marked another quiet step forward. I finished reading the final lines of an ancient manuscript, its edges yellowed by centuries, and set the fragile document back into my inventory with careful precision.

The papyrus fluttered slightly before disappearing into the digital void.

[+1 Wisdom.]

Yes, my stat increased again. Over the past few days, my Wisdom had risen by more than six points—seven, if I counted this latest gain. Apparently, simple reading could improve the stat. Why doesn't the same thing work for Intelligence?! It's maddening. If only expanding my intellect were as simple as turning a few more pages.

Still, I know it's more complicated than that. The sharp boost was mostly thanks to the cache of manuscripts I managed to pilfer from under Ra's al Ghul's nose. His library is less a collection of books and more a labyrinth of knowledge—a fortress built out of human history itself.

It held more than thirty thousand records of past wisdom, written on every conceivable kind of material: fragile paper, birch bark, palm leaves, strips of bamboo, parchment cured from calfskin, papyrus yellowed with age, even meticulously carved clay tablets. Combined, they form an encyclopedia of mankind's philosophies, mysticism, and long-forgotten sciences.

Many of the manuscripts were indecipherable, composed in languages whose alphabets I could barely recognize. Some were covered in dense clusters of symbols, a code locked away for millennia—something that would send modern philologists and paleographers into ecstatic frenzy. But among the indecipherable jumble, there were fragments and scrolls with content still readable, though faded and fragmented.

I spent long nights deciphering those texts, tracing ancient ink with trembling fingers, and when I finally understood them, my system rewarded me again. Another point in Wisdom. It made perfect sense. Wisdom determines one's connection to the underlying order of reality—to the cosmic rhythm that governs every atom, every spell, every breath.

Understanding even a fraction of the universe's truth expands that stat. Knowledge, properly interpreted, becomes power. Any improvement in stats is invaluable, but discovering a completely new method of gaining them was exhilarating. Reading alone could shape the essence of my being, intertwining mind and system into a single current. And since Wisdom governs my ability to access the boundless energy of the Multiverse—what others call magic—it's an investment that will pay incomprehensible dividends in the future.

Right now, the benefits are subtle, like faint sparks glowing under the surface, but give it time, and they'll become overwhelming. Sadly, manuscripts like these are vanishingly rare. Ancient texts that still pulse with the secrets of the universe are treasures beyond measure.

Once I realized their potential, I began sorting through every single document in Ra's vast library, searching for anything that could hold similar value. A futile undertaking for most people—but I'm not most people. Using my amplified intuition, I managed to identify about two hundred works that resonated faintly with the system, meaning they contained something fundamental about existence itself.

Out of those, I've read fifteen so far and seen seven direct stat gains. Not every manuscript grants a boon; some overlap in content, offering little new information. Redundancy dulls the effect. Still, progress is progress.I sighed, stretched my arms, and decided to pull another papyrus scroll from my inventory. Its surface shimmered faintly as it materialized in my hands. Just as I began to focus again—Two familiar presence shattered the silence.

"Should'nt you knock?"

"We already tried—with both hands and feet—but you didn't answer!" Heather exclaimed, her voice full of mock irritation. "And standing outside with this mountain of paperwork wasn't exactly fun."

She crossed the room briskly and dumped an enormous stack of documents onto my desk with theatrical flair.

Natasha Romanoff followed close behind, carrying a smaller but still noticeable pile. Between the two of them, my pristine workspace was instantly buried under layers of paper.

I blinked, staring at the chaos. "We have electronic document management now," I muttered. "Where does all this waste paper come from in the digital age?"

"You looked over the documents I brought this morning, right?" Natasha asked, glancing suspiciously between the heap at the corner and the papyrus scroll still resting in my hands. "Or haven't you?"

"Relax," I said, setting the scroll aside before she could snap. "I've read everything."

Or rather, familiarized myself with it. Helps when you have several parallel streams of consciousness running at once. At the start of the day, I'd slid on my holographic glasses and scanned all necessary files.

Then, using a direct neural link, I ordered my AI assistant, Eve, to process and vocalize their contents. Eve could read multiple pages simultaneously, her voice calm and unwavering as I absorbed and analyzed her every word. Thanks to my Intelligence stat, comprehension came as effortless as breathing, the world seemed to slow around me.

Data, logic, meaning, all aligned in clean, efficient harmony. Having a high Intelligence stat is unbelievably convenient. Without it, I'd probably still be knee-deep in unfinished work. Since our office relocation, the workload has skyrocketed.

Every department is adjusting, reassembling, and preparing for new operations that will launch soon. The air itself feels charged with restless energy.

"That's good," Heather said with a small nod of approval. "But we've still got plenty to do. We also need to review the company's development plan for the next six months." She started reorganizing the documents she'd just slammed down, stacking them neatly as if that would make the mountain less intimidating.

"I understand," I replied evenly, turning to Natasha. "And you, how's your end of things?"

"I've prepared the December report in the exact format you requested," she said, handing me a black folder. Her movements were precise, professional, predictably so.

"By the way, how's your other job going? You even asked for a week off recently…"

"Everything's fine." Natasha smiled faintly.

"Really?"

"That's reassuring. Always good to know the world isn't on the verge of collapse, and that S.H.I.E.L.D. is still keeping an eye on us mere mortals." I said.

Miss Romanoff's expressions were calm, but I caught a flicker in her eye as she threw a side glance toward Heather. The reaction—or rather, the lack of one—told her much more than words could. Apparently, I wasn't the only one aware of her double life. Natasha's training kept her face stoic, though her sharp eyes betrayed a simmering curiosity.

She didn't press the subject further, but the subtle tension that filled the space between us was almost tangible. She'd try to find out later, of course. That's what spies do. Good luck with that, I thought silently. Let her stew a little—it's entertaining to watch a professional agent squirm when the tables turn.

"So," I asked casually, flipping open the folder she'd given me, "what exactly happened that required the best agent in the world to intervene in person?"

"I have no right to divulge state secrets," Natasha said smoothly, her tone clipped and final.

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You all can read extra chapters on [email protected]/annihilator009