Marvel's New Magneto

Erik slept deeply—so deeply that even the screams and explosions outside couldn't wake him. It felt as if he had sunk into the depths of the ocean, where all external noise faded to nothing. He was vaguely aware of being dragged across the ground, lifted onto a new mode of transport, and taken away. Yet, no matter what happened, he remained trapped in the dream.

A force within the dream seized his soul, pulling him back to a space he had long forgotten, replaying the final moments before he had left.

In the dimly lit space, people lay sprawled in disarray, their armor tattered and stained with dirt and blood. They looked like a defeated army, battered and exhausted, yet strangely lacking the despair of those who had lost everything.

"Surviving the mission feels like a miracle."

Someone let out a sigh of relief, their voice tinged with the joy of narrowly escaping death. Others quickly echoed the sentiment, their agreement laced with gratitude.

A sense of life returned to the group. They began talking excitedly, discussing the ordeal they had just endured. For a while, the chatter filled the air before gradually dying down.

"So, has everyone chosen to return to their own worlds?"

A voice asked the question. Some confirmed their decision, others hesitated. But regardless of their choices, one thing was clear—they all longed to escape the control of that supreme entity.

Endless adventures, constant brushes with death, unrelenting fear, and the loss of countless companions—it was too much, even for the toughest of minds.

They had been walking a tightrope over an abyss. Now, with a path home before them, their desire for freedom was overwhelming.

Standing alone at the edge of the group, he made no move to bid farewell to his temporary companions.

No one found this strange.

After all, their team had been a hastily assembled mix of strangers. The longest-standing member had only been with the group for seven or eight missions; the newest had joined right before the final battle.

They were Reincarnators—survivors of the cruel cycle orchestrated by the Main God. Like venomous creatures raised in a brutal competition, they lived by the law of the jungle. No matter how much one wanted to protect others, survival was never guaranteed. A single mistake could cost a life.

The weak were eliminated, and the strong remained.

Thus, though the team was disorganized, its members were all elites.

Everyone here had survived countless battles and schemes.

And because of that, deep bonds rarely formed. They relied on each other during combat, but now that survival was assured, there was little reason for sentimentality.

One by one, people began to vanish into mist. The once-crowded hall emptied, leaving only a few lingering figures exchanging final words.

He was among the last.

His original teammates had all died. The ones who remained were unfamiliar to him. They had only addressed each other by code names, and there was nothing left to say. He, too, was ready to leave—to step into a new world and start over.

But then, someone called out to him.

It was the leader of their temporary team, a young man who exuded both warmth and composure.

"You've decided to go to that world?" the leader asked.

He nodded. "I can't go back to where I came from, so I might as well choose an interesting place."

The leader didn't ask pointless questions like *why can't you go back?* Everyone had their struggles, and pain was an inevitable part of life. That was understood without needing to be said.

Instead, the leader took out a small red sphere and handed it to him.

"Our equipment got wrecked during the mission. This is all that's left. We can't take it back to our original worlds anyway, so consider it a parting gift—for saving my life."

He took the orb and held it up to the light. It was soft yet firm, filled with a swirling crimson mist that flowed like liquid silk.

It looked like an eerie bloodstone.

"This was a teammate's relic," the leader explained. "A Bloodline Sphere, exchanged from the Main God's shop. It's based on Magneto's abilities, with some additional mutant traits. You'll find it useful in that world."

He pressed the blood-red sphere against his chest and solemnly thanked the leader.

That settled it. They owed each other nothing now.

Though neither had kept count, proud people never liked being in debt to others.

As the final moment approached, the leader asked one last question.

"We've fought side by side, but I still don't know your name. Can you tell me?"

He glanced at the fading dreamscape—the place he had spent countless days longing to escape.

Holding the Bloodline Sphere to his chest, he felt his body beginning to change.

Without much thought, he answered, "Since I've inherited Magneto's powers… just call me Erik."

**Erik.**

Somewhere in the dream, Erik felt something click into place.

The version of himself in the dream stepped forward, dissolving into mist.

Then, Erik and that "other self" merged, their thoughts aligning as one.

As the scenery blurred and light distorted like ripples in water, reality shattered into colorful fragments. Countless images and deafening sounds surged through his mind.

Erik remained silent, watching the flood of memories—the moments he had once forgotten.

His naïve belief that he was the protagonist of some grand adventure.

His awkward attempt to confess to a beautiful senior teammate.

The terror and rage of being overpowered by stronger foes.

The pride of finally standing tall after overcoming endless hardships.

Scenes of faces flickered before him—some familiar, some strange.

Rivals he despised.

Enemies he had once sworn to destroy.

Friends who had fought by his side.

People he had desperately tried to protect, only to fail in the end.

He reached out, his fingers trembling as they neared the face of someone he had longed for.

But before he could touch her, the image faded.

His hand remained frozen in the empty air.

At that moment, he truly understood—

**It was over.**

The past had vanished like smoke.

When the light receded, he found himself standing under dim artificial lighting.

In front of him, an angry, heavyset man glared at him.

**A new world had begun.**