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Darkness. Silence. Emptiness.
I don't know how long I've been here. Minutes? Hours? Maybe days? There is no time in this void, no sensation, no tether to reality. Only my thoughts, floating aimlessly in an abyss that stretches infinitely in every direction.
My last memory is fragmented, like shards of broken glass. I was walking home late at night. The air was crisp, laced with the quiet hum of the city. The rhythmic tapping of my shoes against the pavement had been my only company. Then—lights. Headlights, bright and blinding. A deafening screech of tires. The impact never came, or maybe it did, and I just don't remember.
And then—nothing.
Am I dead?
Is this what the afterlife feels like? A hollow, never-ending void where consciousness is all that remains?
I try to move, but there is no body to move. I try to scream, but there is no mouth to form the words. It's as if my entire being has been stripped down to the barest essence—just awareness.
A terrifying thought creeps into my mind.
What if this is it? What if I'm stuck here forever?
The silence becomes suffocating. The weight of nothingness presses down on me, and I feel—
No, not feel. There is nothing to feel.
Until a voice shatters the void.
"You are not supposed to be here."
It is deep and vast, not just heard but felt. The very fabric of this place trembles at its presence.
Light pierces through the darkness. I have no eyes, yet I perceive it. I have no body, yet I feel its warmth. And then—it appears.
Not in a way I can describe. It has no form, no shape. Yet, I know it is there. A presence, infinite and eternal.
I don't need to ask who it is. Somehow, the answer is already in my mind.
Eternity.
I don't know how I know. It's not knowledge I've learned but something woven into my very soul, a fundamental truth that simply is.
Still, I try to grasp it. "Who are you?" I think the words rather than speak them.
A pause. Then, the voice responds.
"I am all things. The flow of time, the end of time, the beginning of time. And you… you are a soul that has drifted beyond its destined path."
Drifted? Beyond my path?
Does that mean I wasn't supposed to die?
Should I be afraid? Should I be begging for answers? But even in the presence of this cosmic entity, I feel only… acceptance. Maybe because I know that fear is meaningless here.
"And what happens now?"
"You must begin again."
The void shifts. The weightlessness fades, replaced by something foreign. Something real. A pull—like gravity, like being yanked by an unseen force.
I feel myself being torn apart. Not in pain, but in change.
"Do I get a say in this?"
A deep chuckle reverberates through the void. "You already have. This is the second time we have met. And you already asked for a wish at that time. "
Flashes of images. Six people standing, fighting something weird. Aliens? Thunder, Technology, Arrow, Shield, Anger, Green Giant..Fragments of possibilities. A new life. A new world. A wish granted.
Then—white.
---
The first thing I feel is warmth. A strange, comforting warmth, enveloping me like a protective cocoon.
Then, sound—muffled, distant. A soft, melodic voice whispers something in a language I don't understand.
Then, light.
It's blinding, harsh against my unadjusted senses. My eyes flutter open, but everything is blurry, unfocused. Colors bleed together, shapes are indistinct.
Instinctively, I try to move—but my body is weak, fragile. My limbs feel tiny. My hands—if they can even be called that—barely respond.
That's when it hits me.
I've been reincarnated.
"Mera beta…"
The voice comes again, clearer now. A woman's voice, warm and affectionate. I blink, my vision sharpening just enough to make out a face above me.
Warm brown eyes filled with love. Dark, wavy hair framing a soft smile.
She looks… Indian.
Wait. Does that mean I'm in India?
No. That doesn't make sense. Eternity said I'd begin again. That means I'm in a different world.
A different world…
And then it clicks. The images.. Six people. Thunder, Shield, Armour, Arrow, Aliens.
It's definitely that world.
The Marvel Cinematic Universe.
Panic surges through my tiny body. My mind races, piecing together everything I know about this universe—the destruction, the wars, the apocalyptic threats.
And I am born here?
The woman—my mother—gently rocks me, humming a lullaby I don't recognize. Her arms are warm, comforting. Despite the chaos in my mind, exhaustion begins to take hold.
No. I can't panic. Not yet.
If I really have been reborn in the MCU, then I need to think. To plan. Because this world is dangerous. And if I don't prepare, I'll be nothing more than a footnote in someone else's story.
As my eyelids grow heavy, I make a silent vow.
I will survive.
I will thrive.
I will not be a pawn.
---
Days pass. I have no real sense of time, only the cycles of light and dark. My vision sharpens, my motor functions improve, and I start picking up on words and phrases spoken around me.
My mother speaks Hindi most of the time, but there are other voices, too. Voices with thick Sokovian accents.
That confirms it.
I am in Sokovia.
The realization sends a chill through me. Ground zero for future disasters. Ultron's attack. HYDRA's influence. The Avengers' Civil War.
Sokovia is a warzone waiting to happen.
I need to prepare. I need to get stronger. I need to understand the timeline.
But for now, I'm still a baby.
"Arjun," my mother calls me one day, smiling as she gently touches my face. "Mera chhota Arjun."
Arjun. My name in this life.
I let it sink in. My old name
—whoever I was before—doesn't matter anymore.
I am Arjun.
And I will shape my own destiny.
Even in a world full of gods and monsters.