The morning air tasted strangely familiar—like dust, discipline, and destiny. As I stepped out onto the training grounds, thousands of armored soldiers snapped to attention with a single thunderous motion. Shields gleamed. Spears rose. Eyes sharpened with loyalty so absolute it almost felt… divine.
Perhaps it was.
I walked between the rows of soldiers—my soldiers—and for a moment I simply absorbed the sight. The Phalanx formations were perfect, tighter than steel teeth. The Companion cavalry rested beside their horses, each rider disciplined and lethal. Tactically, strategically, historically—everything was exactly as I remembered.
Even though I was now a woman, they treated me no differently. Their eyes carried the same respect, the same fervor, the same unwavering belief.
That alone told me the gods must have interfered.
Good.I didn't have time to fight both enemies and misogyny.
The world we had landed in was too dangerous for such distractions.
I lifted a hand. "Report."
A commander stepped forward—Hephaestion, loyal as ever, unchanged by time or universe. "My king," he said without hesitation, without a hint of pause at the title, "the troops have been reorganized according to your last tactical structure. Drills are continuous. Morale is high."
King. Even now.
The gods had definitely done something.
I folded my arms beneath my breasts, watching the soldiers perform their formations with machine-like precision. "Has anyone shown resistance to my… altered form?"
Hephaestion shook his head immediately. "None, my king. Your presence is unquestioned. Your authority is absolute."
I exhaled. That was one less battle I had to fight.
Sexism ran deep in this era of history. But the gods… or whatever system brought us here… had smoothed that wrinkle out of reality. The men saw me, not my gender.
"Good," I said quietly. "Then we move forward."
I spent the next several hours gathering information—about my army, about the land, about the time period we had been dropped into. We were in a version of Earth that resembled ancient Macedon, but altered. The landscape held hints of future events—strange resources, unfamiliar settlements, and whispers of foreign ideologies that didn't belong.
This world wasn't entirely ancient.It wasn't entirely Marvel.It wasn't entirely SCP.It was something in between—a fractured timeline stitched together by unseen hands.
The soldiers carried unfamiliar rumors from nearby villages—stories of a man of iron falling from the heavens, of glowing stones hidden in deserts, of strange cults worshipping an entity with too many eyes.
The multiverse was bleeding. That much was obvious.
"Prepare scouts," I ordered. "The world is changing. I need to know how fast."
Hephaestion saluted. "As you command."
And as he rode out, I looked across my army—the greatest in ancient history, forged anew in the most dangerous universe imaginable.
Alexander the Great had conquered the world once.
This world, however…was going to take more than conquest.
It would take strategy. Allies. Secrecy.
And power beyond what any mortal army had ever possessed.
I tightened my grip on my cloak.
Let the Marvel Universe tremble.Let the SCP anomalies crawl.Let every celestial, sorcerer, and titan rise.
Because I, Alexander—reborn or reshaped—still carried the will to conquer.
And I would not be defeated.