[What if, in the Marvel Universe, a soul that was never meant to be there suddenly appeared...]
New York, Midtown Manhattan, 2012.
Inside an ordinary two-story apartment on Fifth Avenue, no more than 500 square feet in size.
A handsome brown-haired boy, around 14 or 15 years old, was alone in his bedroom, chalking mysterious symbols and drawings onto the oak floor.
He wore a casual white shirt, was tall and well-proportioned, with refined features and a pair of semi-rimmed gold glasses.
Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting dappled shadows across his face, blending with the warm decor of the room to create a serene, refreshing atmosphere.
Except for one thing...
Beneath the sleeve of his right arm peeked a visibly mismatched black mechanical limb, which emitted faint creaking sounds as he drew.
More out of place than the noisy mechanical arm, however, were the concentric circles and ritual-like formation he was sketching on the floor—something that looked suspiciously like a demonic summoning circle.
"Hmm, this should be about right. Now for the materials!"
He casually tossed aside the chalk, but before he could make another move, the muffled sound of a heated argument floated up from the living room downstairs.
"Jina! You should've at least discussed this with me beforehand! We finally escaped Sokovia and got away from those people! And now you're handing ourselves right back over, asking for cooperation?!"
"You're throwing the company into the fire!"
The man's voice was tight, clearly trying to restrain his temper, though the fury was still palpable.
In contrast, the mature and strikingly beautiful woman opposite him spoke with chilling calm:
"Herman, the times have changed. The days of making a stable income off a couple inventions and patents are over."
"I can wait. But will the shareholders wait for you?"
"We've already lost contracts with Stark Industries and Hammer Industries. If we don't act soon, the company won't survive."
"I don't care what you think. Even if it's just for Luka's future, I must keep the company afloat!"
Hearing his wife's resolute tone, the man named Herman opened his mouth several times, but couldn't find a good rebuttal—only managing to stubbornly stick to his own point.
Upstairs, Luka merely shook his head with a sigh. He didn't intend to step in.
Not because he was cold or indifferent to family harmony.
But because… he'd only just arrived in this world. After spending nearly two months in a hospital, he still hadn't fully wrapped his head around the current family dynamics.
Luka von Orange.
His former name no longer mattered.
In his past life, he had just helped the police bust a large scam ring when a fully loaded gravel truck slammed into him head-on.
In the final moments before death, all he saw was the truck—perhaps there for revenge—crashing into a nearby apartment building with him in tow.
When he opened his eyes again, he had transmigrated into the body of a boy who had also died in a car accident.
Perhaps it was the will of the gods of transmigration—or perhaps his soul had somehow healed this body.
After several days of emergency treatment, though the body lost everything below the right elbow, it ultimately survived.
Now, two months later, memories had begun to merge, and Luka—who had lived a lonely life in his previous world—was slowly adapting to this new, affluent household with both parents.
"At least in this world, I still have a loving family, don't I?"
That was how Luka had been comforting himself.
But compared to his supposedly blissful home life, the world itself… wasn't so "blissful."
During his hospital stay, aside from memory fusion, the only thing he could really do was watch TV.
And naturally, the billionaire in flashy armor who fought crime around the world was a frequent headline star.
Luka, having watched many Marvel movies in his past life, quickly realized where he was.
Though the Marvel multiverse was vast and varied, he couldn't be sure if events would unfold as he remembered.
Fortunately, only Iron Man had gone public as a superhero so far. The world hadn't yet reached the level of chaotic dystopia.
And the other reason Luka could rest a bit easier?
He'd come with a cheat code—a "golden finger."
He glanced at the ominous circle he'd drawn, then reached into a nearby box to pull out a plain red sneaker.
To others, it looked like an ordinary running shoe. But in Luka's eyes, it glowed faintly. When he held it, a blue panel of text floated above:
[Power-Enhancing Sneakers]
[Conan World 1/5]
[Manufacturer: Professor Agasa]
[Core Component: Red-White Sneakers]
[Synthesis Materials: 0.5m wire, 6 defibrillator pads, 1 small knob, 1 mini battery]
[Item Description: A miraculous pair of sneakers that enhance kicking strength through acupuncture-like electric stimulation. Level 1: Kick heads. Level 2: Destroy vehicles. Level 3: Smash satellites. Incredible power with no foot damage—precision kicks that don't harm humans. A must-have for crime-fighting or household emergencies!]
[Tip: Features anti-wear, breathability, and odor resistance—personally tested by a certain detective who hasn't changed shoes in 30 years!]
Yes, this was Luka's golden finger.
After nearly two months in the hospital, he'd tried everything to awaken some "system" or "spiritual mentor"—all failed.
He thought he was doomed to rely only on his limited Marvel knowledge to survive.
Until he returned home and noticed that one of "his" old pencil cases shimmered with a glow only he could see.
When he touched it, panels like "World of Origin," "Manufacturer," and "Synthesis Materials" popped up.
From there, he created his first item: a [Pencil Missile] from the One Punch Man universe—crafted using "pencil," "gunpowder," "glue," and a "pistol grip."
The sneakers were his second synth item, found in a regular shoe store.
He still didn't understand everything—like what the "1/5" after "Conan World" meant.
Or why touching a core component triggered the blueprint circle in his mind.
Or why drawing the same circle again with the same materials couldn't produce another Pencil Missile.
But at least, he'd figured out the basics of synthesis.
He placed the sneaker at the center of the circle, and the rest of the materials into smaller circles.
They glowed faintly—just like the core component.
"Eh? AA batteries don't work? Not even a small military cell?"
After testing several, only a basic supermarket button battery worked—then it too glowed.
"This tiny battery couldn't even power a vibrating toy, and it can run the sneakers?"
Shaking the thought, Luka pressed both hands to the edge of the circle and whispered:
"Synthesize!"
Golden light erupted, swallowing the entire array.
When the light faded, all the materials were gone—except a brand new pair of red-white sneakers in the center.
But—
"Why are they so small?!"
The shoes were barely the size of his hand.
"Don't tell me these sneakers are for elementary schoolers?"
He picked them up—and to his surprise, they resized instantly to fit his foot.
"...Whoa."
Aside from a small white knob on the right shoe's outer side, it looked just like any regular sneaker.
Even inside, there was no sign of wires, batteries, or pads.
If not for the size-changing feature, you'd never guess this was a high-tech marvel.
After a moment's hesitation, Luka decided not to dissect the shoes.
With his limited engineering skills, he'd never get them back together.
Better to just wear them and test their function.
"Hopefully they don't break my foot when I kick something..."
Struggling with his less dexterous mechanical right arm, he slipped on the shoes.
'Too bad the power knob's only on the right. Using my right arm is still a pain. Hope I find a better prosthetic someday…'
As he tested the fit and stood up, about to let his parents know he was heading out to test-kick something—
Suddenly, shrill whistling noises filled the air outside.
He rushed to the window—and froze.
In the distance, a blue beam of light shot into the sky. At its peak, the sky split open into a massive rift.
Armored aliens on flying bikes poured out, swarming the city below.
Massive serpentine warships, like beasts from myth, tore through buildings.
Screams and blasts echoed across the ground. Alien energy beams rained down like fireworks.
New York had become a war zone—an apocalyptic battlefield.
There was no mistaking it:
"The Chitauri… are invading!"