The lost (false) demigod

When I looked closer and more carefully, dread twisted in my chest. These weren't ordinary people. 

The first figure was tall and broad-shouldered, his frame still radiating an aura of authority even in death. His purple armor which looked like crustacean shells glinted faintly in the eerie blue light of the portal. Jagged, broken wings drooped from his ankles, their feathers stiff with frost. A trident lay beside him, its prongs buried in the snow. Even in this state, there was something unyielding about him, as though the storm of life had simply paused. Namor, the Sub-Mariner—his name was the stuff that I only heard in comic books in my past life. 

The second figure was unlike anything I'd ever seen. His skin was golden, not just in hue but in presence, as if his very essence was cast in light. His robes, torn and burned, seemed both futuristic and ceremonial. His long hair fanned out in the snow, streaked with blood. This was Adam Warlock. His stories were different from Namor's—more distant, and cosmic, but from the same source, comics, and a game that I was obsessed with, Marvel rivals. 

But before I could take another breath, something changed. 

Adam began to glow. 

The light from his staff brightened, spilling across the snow like liquid gold. At first, I thought it was a trick of the portal's fading energy, but then I saw it—his wounds. The jagged gashes across his chest and arms began to close, slowly, agonizingly, as the golden light pulsed stronger. His breaths, shallow and labored, began to steady. 

I stumbled backward, unsure whether to run or stay frozen. But then his eyes fluttered open. 

"You..." His voice was faint, weak, but it carried a weight that felt far heavier than the biting wind. "Come closer." 

I hesitated, my instincts screaming at me to bolt. But his gaze pinned me in place, and before I realized it, my feet were moving toward him. 

"What's your name?" he asked me looking into my eyes as if he could see my soul through them, and perhaps he could, unnerving me to levels I didn't know were possible. still, I managed to gather the strength to answer, not wanting to discover the consequences of disobeying an entity that would very well be a worldwide threat in my previous world.

"Magnus"

Adam's golden eyes flickered weakly, the glow dimming as he struggled. His voice, once commanding and serene, was now a fractured whisper, each word laced with the weight of something far beyond my comprehension.

"Magnus," he began, my name rolling off his tongue like a secret revealed. "I do not know the full purpose of this... phenomenon. This realm where great powers are drawn together. But..." He coughed, blood escaping his lips. "I know enough to tell you..." 

Adam's golden eyes narrowed as his eyes lost focus, probably remembering and measuring what he would say to me "It is... curious," he began, his voice steady, layered with intrigue and solemnity. "a realm unlike any other. A place where beings of extraordinary power are drawn together, not by fate or duty, but by... design." 

He paced slowly, the soft hum of cosmic energy surrounding him. "In this domain, the great heroes and villains of countless worlds are brought to battle. Not in their own wars or quests, but in contests engineered by forces I cannot yet comprehend. These conflicts are not chaotic; they are structured, as if part of some grand... test."

He paused, his gaze distant as if peering through layers of existence. "These contests occur in vast arenas. One moment, you find yourself amid the celestial expanse of Knowhere; the next, within the ruins of Asgard. Each location shifts and shapes the battle, favoring some while challenging others."

Warlock's voice softened, tinged with uncertainty. "Yet, there is more to this. This is not merely battle for the sake of survival or dominance. No lives are truly lost, no heroes or villains truly fall. When one is defeated, they are returned, intact, as if preserved by the very forces that orchestrate these events. It is... unsettling." 

He turned fully, his eyes locking onto Magnus with intensity. "This world, this 'Rivals' domain, reflects the essence of balance and chaos. It compels beings of great power to unite—or clash—endlessly. But to what end? Why would such contests be necessary? And who benefits from their outcome?" 

I knelt beside him, unsure whether to reach out or keep my distance. My hands trembled as I held his gaze, the sheer weight of his presence pressing against my chest like an invisible force.

"Be wary of what comes next," he continued, his voice soft but resolute. "This game, if you can call it that... it is no mere contest. I sense threads... connections beyond our understanding. Perhaps it is a test. Perhaps it is a trap. I cannot say."

He winced, his body convulsing slightly as he reached out toward me with a trembling hand. "But you," he said, his tone growing firmer despite his fading strength, "you must be ready. Take this."

A staff materialized in his grasp, its shaft glowing faintly as if imbued with his very essence. The intricate carvings along its length seemed to shimmer with every pulse of the dimming cosmic energy. He placed it in my hands, and the instant my fingers closed around it, I felt a jolt of energy rush through me. It wasn't overwhelming—more like a distant spark, faint but alive.

"This staff," Adam said, his words slower now, "carries my power... or what little I have left to give. A fraction of my strength. Enough to begin. But not enough to save you alone."

He gestured weakly toward Namor's fallen form, his trident resting in the snow like a relic of a forgotten age. "Namor's trident. A weapon of the sea king. Its strength, his legacy, now must serve you as well."

Before I could protest, Adam raised his hand, golden light emanating faintly from his palm. The light reached out, connecting the trident and the staff as if weaving threads of energy between them. Then, with a sharp pull, the light surged into me.

I gasped as the energy burned through my chest—not painful, but overwhelming as if it was carving something deep inside me. The staff and trident began to glow faintly, their auras synchronizing with the faint pulse of my heartbeat.

"They are bound to you now," Adam whispered, his eyes dimming further. "Your soul is their anchor. Wield them wisely, Magnus. For these tools will draw strength from you, and you from them. But know this..." He paused, his breath shallow. "You may not understand what I'm saying right now, maybe you never will, maybe your fate won't be what it would be if we never met, but I also believe that it's going to be great. And kid, remember, these stuff aren't supposed to be chains on you, you don't need to rush, take your time, months, years, decades, centuries, time doesn't really matter yere I'm going back soon, you just need to get better, because its, on one way or another, going to reach you too."

The faint golden glow in his eyes flickered one last time as his hand fell limply to his side. The Soul Gem on his forehead dimmed completely, leaving him still and silent in the snow.

I knelt there, trembling, the weight of the staff and trident heavier than it had any right to be. They weren't just weapons now—they were pieces of something much larger than myself, bound to my very being.

But first...

what. the. fuck???

Why does he talk as if he knows me?

Why does he have so much confidence in me?

What is his purpose for me?

Why does it feel like I've joined this conversation halfway through?

Just as I was about to head for the nearest tree to knock myself out and escape this mess entirely, fucking Adam started glowing again. But this time, it wasn't his body radiating light. The golden glow poured out of him, coalescing into a shimmering figure shaped just like him. Without hesitation, the spectral form began to speak, his words flowing with a calm urgency, unbothered by my confusion. 

"I know there are a thousand questions swirling in your mind right now, but I can already feel something pulling me back," he said, glancing at his hand as it started to disintegrate. He turned toward the portal, which had opened just enough to let a single limb pass through into the unknown. "So I'll be brief: I've glimpsed some possible futures with my powers, and there are two critical points you need to understand for now," he said, locking eyes with me, his gaze weighted with an unshakable seriousness that silenced any objections I might have. 

"First, your life will be chaotic—there's no escaping that. But chaos doesn't mean it has to be bad. Plan wisely, decide what you want, and act with purpose. Second, among all the debris that arrived here, there are two syringes. While some of what you'll find might be useful, nothing compares to the importance of those syringes. Find them. Apply the neon green one first—it should let you go through the night. Use the blue one only after your body has adjusted. Time is short; nightfall brings its own dangers." 

As his words faded, so did he. The golden figure began to dissolve, vanishing piece by piece. At some point—though I hadn't noticed when—Namor's body and Adam's had also started turning into colored dust, drifting back toward the portal. 

Before disappearing completely, Adam left me with one final message. 

"Be wary. And remember... this is only the beginning."