He scrambled out of the heap of garbage bags, dusted himself off, and found himself in a narrow alley—dark, damp, and covered in graffiti.
He tried to sense his own condition.
Sure enough, most of his reality-warping abilities had become sluggish and unreliable, like a phone with poor signal—working one moment, cutting out the next.
The inner "universe" he'd cultivated had been compressed to a tiny range, barely sufficient to maintain his own law-stability.
He opened the System panel. The interface had turned gray, indicating "offline" mode. Only in the upper-left corner did a small line of text stubbornly blink:
[Analyzing new world laws... Analysis progress: 1%...]
"Well then, I really have become a newbie on a fresh server." Cloud laughed at himself.
However, he felt no discouragement whatsoever. He could sense that his foundational powers remained intact.
The Orochi Power, the Power of the Wave, his various martial arts—skills that had been integrated into his very soul—were still usable.
His current strength had essentially reverted to his KOF-era level, roughly when he'd first mastered the initial stage of Orochi Divine Power.
Not invincible in the Marvel Universe, but more than enough for self-preservation.
If anything, not being the strongest for once actually made him feel a bit of novelty and excitement.
He straightened his clothes and walked out of the alley.
Instantly, a cacophony of technology and modernity washed over him.
Towering skyscrapers pierced the clouds. Yellow taxis flowed endlessly through the streets. And on a massive electronic billboard in Times Square, an advertisement for the latest "Stark Industries" product played on loop.
"New York, huh?" Cloud murmured, taking in the scene that was both familiar and strange.
He drew a deep breath. The air carried the scent of hot dogs, exhaust fumes, and capitalism.
He walked up to a street vendor and used some U.S. dollars he'd "borrowed" from a nearby bank ATM to buy himself a hot dog.
He took a bite. Not bad, actually.
Just then, he felt at least three sets of professionally trained, covert eyes lock onto him from different angles.
Cloud's lips curved into an amused smile.
"Looks like I get a welcome party right from the start."
"Well then, New York—nice to meet you."
...
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, the Triskelion, Supreme Command Room.
The atmosphere was so tense you could cut it with a knife.
On the enormous holographic screen, a grainy satellite recording played on loop.
The footage showed that above an alleyway in central New York City, space had suddenly rippled without warning—like water disturbed by an invisible stone. Then a human figure materialized from thin air and plummeted down.
"Energy level assessment?" A low, authoritative voice spoke—none other than S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Nick Fury.
His single eye was fixed on the screen, filled with unprecedented gravity.
"Reporting, Director." Agent Maria Hill stood nearby, her expression equally grim. "According to energy fluctuation monitoring, the peak energy released during this individual's arrival exceeded the readings we recorded during Thor's landing in New Mexico last year—by a factor of three. Strangely, however, this energy rapidly converged after arrival. The target's current energy signature is equivalent to... a large power bank."
"A power bank?" Fury's brow furrowed into a tight knot.
"Yes, sir. A self-sustaining, highly unstable power bank."
"And the target's identity?"
"Unknown. Facial recognition found zero matches in any global database. He's like a ghost."
Fury fell silent.
A man who appeared out of nowhere like a phantom, carrying energy signatures that dwarfed Thor's descent.
This wasn't a threat. This was a walking nuclear bomb that could detonate at any moment.
"How's Coulson?" he suddenly asked.
"Still recovering, sir. The wound from Loki's scepter..."
"I know." Fury cut her off, a flicker of resolve in his single eye. "Activate the Black Widow Protocol. I need someone to approach him, assess him, figure out what he is and what he wants here."
"But sir, that's too dangerous!" Hill was alarmed.
"Dangerous?" Fury laughed coldly, pointing at the figure on screen casually munching on a hot dog. "Right now, all of New York is sitting next to this power bank. Is there anything more dangerous than that?"
"Deploy our best agent. I need answers. At any cost."
...
Cloud decided that hot dogs in this world tasted pretty decent.
Just a bit light on the mustard.
He ate while wandering aimlessly through Times Square like a genuine tourist, soaking in this world's unique atmosphere.
The laws here, while suppressing most of his divine powers, had also re-sharpened senses that had grown numb over time.
He could clearly smell the rich aroma drifting from the coffee shop on the corner, hear the rumble of a distant subway, feel the distinct life-force of every pedestrian passing by.
This long-forgotten sensation of being "human" felt both novel and pleasant.
Of course, he also detected the several professionally trained gazes locked onto him from various directions.
S.H.I.E.L.D., probably. Pretty efficient, he thought with an internal chuckle, his face betraying nothing.
He decided to play along with these "little friends."
He deliberately walked toward a street corner with relatively fewer people.
Right on cue, the show began.
"Ah—!"
A perfectly timed cry—sexy yet helpless—came from behind him.
Cloud turned to find a classic "damsel in distress" scenario unfolding.
A tall, curvaceous redhead with legs that went on forever was staring in horror at her empty hands, while a stereotypical "mugger" character sprinted away clutching her purse.
Then, apparently chasing too hastily, the redhead's elegant stiletto heel twisted. With a perfectly choreographed "Oh no!" she began a graceful, slow-motion descent toward the ground—an impressive display of core strength.
Her face bore just the right amount of vulnerability and helplessness. Her eyes shimmered with an almost hypnotic allure.
A form-fitting black dress hugged every explosive curve of her perfect figure.
Sexy. Dangerous. Yet pitifully fragile.
Three completely contradictory qualities, blended together flawlessly.
...
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