The first thing I saw was a list of disciplines.
Eight of them, like skill trees in some RPG, except instead of virtual skills — very real, potentially deadly knowledge.
They weren’t just hanging in the air; they seemed engraved in light against the dark background of the interface.
Each had a short but succinct description.
“Herbology (Power of Nature)” — a discipline focused on using plants to create healing and enhancing compounds.
My first thought was skeptical.
Herbology?
Sounded like a subject name at a school for wizards, something for goody-two-shoes girls and nerds.
I imagined endless hours of grinding pestle in a mortar with some roots.
But then it dawned on me.
This was the Marvel world.
A world where the Heart-Shaped Herb grew in Wakanda, granting super strength, and where living trees roamed somewhere in space.
I immediately understood this wasn’t about daisies and plantains.
More likely, I’d have to chase down some “Lunar Daisy” blooming once a century on a Himalayan peak, or “Whispering Moss” from the caves of Asgard.
Promising, no doubt.
Creating serums that boost strength or regeneration was a direct path to the big leagues.
But the logistics could be, to put it mildly, problematic.
I was a broke student in Hell’s Kitchen.
I could barely scrape together money for the subway, let alone an expedition to Tibet.
So yes, tempting, but it was a game for the rich and powerful.
Filed away for now.
“Chemistry (Transformation of Matter)” — the science of mixing substances to create new, often dangerous compounds.
Now this was closer to home.
No abstract alchemy with miracle herbs, Philosopher’s Stones, or transmutation of lead into gold.
In theory — very specific formulas, reactions, and reagents.
Chemistry was the foundation of everything.
From household cleaning poison to the most sophisticated toxins and explosives.
It was the sticky web Spider-Woman used to pin thugs to walls, and the acid capable of burning through a bank vault.
Dangerous?
Absolutely.
I wasn’t a chemist, and one mistake, one wrong drop or extra degree of heat could cost me this crappy apartment, or even my life.
I vividly imagined how an accidental spark turned my hovel into a small satellite of hell, complete with toxic smoke and shreds of furniture on the walls.
But the potential was enormous.
And most importantly — accessibility.
Many reagents, even in impure form, could be obtained from ordinary household goods.
It was risky, dirty, but real.
Definitely filing that away in my mind.
Explosives (Controlled Chaos) — the art of creating and using explosive substances.
The name spoke for itself.
Straightforward and unvarnished.
Not “pyrotechnics,” but “explosives.” I mentally pictured headlines in the Daily Bugle: “Mysterious Bomber from Hell’s Kitchen Strikes Again!” No, thanks.
Attracting the attention of S.H.I.E.L.D., the FBI, and other guys in black wasn’t in my plans.
I was a builder by nature, not a destroyer.
But…
the cynical, practical part of my mind immediately offered another thought.
Explosives weren’t just bombs.
They were also smoke canisters for escape, flashbangs for disorienting an enemy, and shaped charges for breaching armored doors.
It was a tool.
A powerful, terrifying tool, but a tool.
It was worth studying the recipes at least for general knowledge and understanding how this stuff worked.
To know what to expect from others.
So, I wasn’t planning to make any yet, but studying — definitely.
“Blacksmithing (Art of Metal)” — working metal to create armor and weapons.
Here, the craftsman in me woke up.
The line vibrated, touching something deep inside.
The smell of hot metal and coal, the deafening but rhythmic clang of a hammer on an anvil, the hiss of red-hot steel plunged into water…
I could almost physically feel it.
This was mine.
Real, honest craftsmanship.
But reality immediately threw cold water on it.
A forge.
In my studio apartment?
Even using a hammer drill was already a problem with the neighbors, let alone a furnace that would burn out all the wiring and start a fire.
This was a goal for the distant, very distant future, when I had my own garage or workshop.
A dream to strive for.
“Gunsmithing (Thunder and Steel)” — creating and modifying firearms.
Hmm.
I was in the USA.
You could buy a gun at the supermarket around the corner, permit pending, and sometimes even without one.
Spending time and resources on creating a flintlock steampunk pistol that was inferior to factory models was stupid.
I wasn’t a gunsmith, and my homemade piece would probably blow up in my own hands.
But if the recipes offered something…
exotic?
A railgun in rifle format?
A plasma cutter?
An electromagnetic accelerator shooting ball bearings?
Or even just modification: creating the perfect silencer, non-lethal ammunition, smart scopes.
Then it was a different story.
This direction heavily depended on what exactly the system offered.
For now — on the “check it out” list, and who cares if that list includes all the disciplines, hah.
“Electricity (Spark of Life)” — taming the power of electricity to create amazing devices.
In a world where Tony Stark lived, this direction was one of the keys.
Electricity was the language modern technology spoke.
It was weapons, defense, and energy for future projects.
From a simple taser to the most complex microchips, power sources like the arc reactor, or even EMP generators.
The potential was limitless.
But the barrier to entry, I suspected, was incredibly high.
This wasn’t just hooking a “plus” to a “minus.” It was physics, math, circuit design.
Although, considering where exactly the recipes would come from, I vividly imagined schematics that included items like “charge from Thor’s lightning” or “connect to the Tesseract.” Definitely needed to look into it more, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t get far without a foundation in other disciplines, like Mechanics.
“Mechanics (Motion and Logic)” — designing and creating complex mechanisms and automatons.
Now this — yes.
This was mine.
Not fixing stools, but creating something truly complex.
Mechanics was the skeleton of any device.
It was gears, levers, drives, hydraulics.
It was the foundation for everything else.
Want to make a cool gun?
You need mechanics.
Want to build a robot assistant?
Mechanics.
An exoskeleton?
Mechanics again.
Unlike blacksmithing, you could start small.
Take apart old tech, scavenge in junkyards, create something from scrap materials.
This was a direct and understandable path for me to creating useful gadgets and tools that would make my life and work in other fields easier.
Again, it all came down to resources and a workshop, but you could start on a knee, as long as the recipes allowed it.
This was the foundation.
“Therapeutics (Technology of Healing)” — a combination of chemistry and mechanics to create healing devices and potent medicines.
I mentally bowed to this discipline.
This was a joker.
A trump card up my sleeve.
In a world where things constantly exploded and collapsed, where heroes and villains clashed in battles that leveled entire city blocks, the ability to heal wasn’t just a useful skill.
It was survival, money, influence.
The ability to stitch myself up without a hospital visit, where they’d start asking inconvenient questions.
The ability to create a regenerative gel or stimulant that would put me on my feet in a couple of hours instead of weeks.
That’s where the real gold was buried.
But it was also the biggest danger.
A person capable of performing medical miracles would immediately become a target for everyone: from the government to criminal syndicates.
They’d either try to bring you under control or simply kill you so you wouldn’t fall to an enemy.
The complexity here was also extreme — you’d need to understand chemistry, mechanics, and apparently, biology.
This was a long-term goal.
Very important, but not a priority.
So, having quickly run through the disciplines and headings, I moved on to the most important and responsible stage — choosing a recipe!
Opening one discipline after another, I carefully read the, again, abbreviated descriptions of the recipes and noted the most interesting and potentially useful ones.
Each discipline had several dozen recipes, which pleased me, because if the count were in the hundreds…
I feared even one night wouldn’t be enough to adequately cover them all, but like this, just about 200-250 recipes from all disciplines.
To start noting the useful ones and avoid getting confused, I wrote down the names in a notebook.
I decided to go in order, starting with Herbology.
Here, I liked 7 recipes, each useful and functional in its own way: Healing Balm, Persuasion Elixir, Fatigue Pills, Restorative Agent, Miracle Cure, Acceleration Potion, and Intellect Potion.
Despite the seemingly obvious names, the descriptions of, say, the Persuasion Elixir or Fatigue Pills surprised me, which is why I added them to my wishlist.
The Persuasion Elixir temporarily boosted the charisma and eloquence of whoever drank it, and the Fatigue Pills removed that very fatigue; ideally, they’d be better named Anti-Fatigue Pills.
I read through the resulting list again, crossed out the Healing Balm and the Restorative Agent.
They are less effective healing analogues of the Miracle Cure.
I marked the Intellect Potion with an asterisk.
Based on the description, it temporarily sharpens the mind, allowing one to solve complex problems or notice what was previously hidden.
A sort of NZT-48 on a budget.
In the end, 5 recipes remained.
The problem was that I didn’t know if they required magical herbs, which I probably couldn’t obtain…
Anyway, analysis done, moving on to Chemistry!
Here, after discarding a bunch of poisons of varying degrees of dubiousness and lethality, and a bunch of options aimed at neutralizing or enhancing magic, I finally settled on just 3 recipes: Acid Mixture (a caustic acid capable of corroding armor, weapons, and flesh), Elixir of Fire Resistance, and Will Paralysis Poison (a strong neurotoxin that completely paralyzes the victim for a while without killing them).
Based on the brief descriptions of both the discipline and the recipes themselves, I dare to hope that magic isn’t heavily involved here, although…
My gaze lingered again on the “Elixir of Fire Resistance.” It was a perfect example of what bothered me about this “Arcanum.” Where was the line between science and magic?
The description stated: “A compound that makes the skin temporarily immune to high temperatures by forming an unstable energy field.” It sounded science-y.
But what is an “unstable energy field”?
Is that something from Tony Stark’s lexicon or Doctor Strange’s?
If, hypothetically, it required powder from a mythical salamander’s scales, that’s magic.
If it’s achieved by mixing rare earth metals and irradiating them at a specific frequency, that’s science, albeit unimaginably complex.
The System mixed these concepts, calling it all “technology.” Maybe for her, there was no difference.
As Arthur Clarke said, any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.
And it seems I’ll have to get used to this blurred line.
The main thing is that the ingredient list doesn’t have items like “add a pinch of faith and a drop of luck.” I might have trouble with that.
Alright, moving on to the Explosives Discipline!
Molotov cocktail, Dynamite, Flamethrower, Mine, Chlorine Gas Grenade…
I scrapped all of this and more!
I don’t need lethality for now.
In the end, only 2 recipes remained, and in fact, even just 1 interested me: Stun Grenade — a non-lethal device that, upon detonation, disorients and stuns everyone in its radius with a bright flash and a loud sound.
Useful sounding thing.
The second recipe is Plastic Explosive (a powerful and controllable explosive that can be attached to any surface).
It was precisely because it could be controlled that I marked it with a question mark, but it’s still a no rather than a yes.
Next up is Blacksmithing.
Axes, swords, shields, armor, gauntlets, helmets, and even boomerangs…
Various properties, indistinguishable from magic, and most likely magic themselves, and a huge selection of recipes.
I didn’t note anything down for the simple reason that I could hardly create anything from this list in my current reality.
For example, Molten Glass Armor (unique armor created using volcanic glass that provides excellent protection against fire).
I physically cannot imagine how to make armor from glass, and what even is Volcanic Glass?
Or the Boomerang Shield (an aerodynamically balanced shield that returns to the owner after being thrown).
Would I need to train to use it like Captain America?
Or is it a conceptual property baked into the shield during its creation that works regardless of the owner’s skills?
Questions…
Too many questions that I’m not yet able to answer adequately, so let’s move on to Weaponcraft.
The situation here was roughly the same as with Blacksmithing.
I physically cannot imagine where and how I could currently assemble a hypothetical Harpoon Cannon (fires a steel harpoon attached to a cable, allowing me to pull enemies or objects) or an Elephant Gun (a large-caliber rifle with monstrous stopping power).
After running through the impressive list of rifle, shotgun, revolver, blunderbuss, and various exotic recipes, I finally settled on just 1 recipe: Tesla Gun (fires concentrated lightning bolts, dealing huge area damage and is especially effective against machinery and electronics).
I definitely won’t choose it, but no one’s stopping me from just noting a Gauss Cannon on steroids.
Especially since the next discipline is Electricity, and I think there will be more interesting options than Big-Gun-Go-Boom.
Excluding the really lethal stuff and mere analogues of a shocker I could buy in a shop, like a Shock Staff (a staff that can hit enemies with electric discharges on contact), I settled on just 3 recipes.
One of them sounds too imbalanced even by description, but it doesn’t hurt to dream: Mechanical Spider-Shocker (a small automaton that runs up to an enemy and hits them with a powerful electric shock), Protective Field Generator (a device that creates a small force barrier capable of stopping bullets and arrows), and the imbalanced Teleportation Beacon (a complex device that, once installed, creates an anchor point to which you can teleport using a special remote).
Naturally, the Protective Field Generator looks like the most obvious choice, setting aside the Beacon, which I probably couldn’t build anyway, and it sounds like something…
Magical.
Brr, that word gives me the creeps.
Oh well, next discipline is Mechanics!
There were…
quite a few recipes here, almost as many as in Blacksmithing, but most of them are highly specialized automatons.
I probably couldn’t even assemble an ordinary Spider Automaton (a mechanical assistant capable of fighting and carrying loads), let alone a hypothetical Medical Spider (an advanced automaton programmed to provide first aid and administer healing balms), which would also require Healing Balms from, I suspect, Herbology or Therapeutics.
Besides, it’s hard to trust first aid to a robot built on my lap, assuming I could even build it.
Anyway, the Automatons can go in the fire.
I’m noting down the following interesting recipes: Mechanical Dagger (a dagger with a complex spring mechanism that “fires” the blade forward, increasing attack range), Binocular Goggles (an optical device for observing distant objects), Gyroscope (a complex device that can be built into weapons or armor to improve balance and accuracy), and Exoskeleton (the peak of mechanics.
A power frame that not only protects but also significantly increases the wearer’s physical strength).
The last one is just to drool over a steampunk version of a budget Iron Man suit, hah.
As for the Mechanical Dagger, it’s nostalgia for the hidden blade of the Assassins.
And Binocular Goggles aren’t really necessary given that I can buy regular binoculars.
Well, I won’t cross them out anyway.
Ideally, the most useful in this discipline is the Gyroscope, but I have no idea how it works, so I’ll just mark it with an asterisk and move on to the last and most interesting discipline for me — Therapeutics!
I skipped the dozens of Healing Potion variants, which really only differed in name, especially since their analogues are also in Herbology.
In the end, I was left with only 4 relatively interesting recipes…
Not much, but it’s a sin to complain.
A really difficult choice lies ahead.
For now, in Therapeutics, I settled on the following recipes: Necromizer (a chemical compound that causes a chain reaction of decay in undead upon contact), Muscle Stimulant (a powerful steroid that temporarily increases strength and endurance to superhuman limits without side effects), Vivisector (a rarest and most complex device that, when applied to the recently deceased, can restart their heart and bring them back to life), and Purity Serum (a medicine capable of curing the most terrible diseases and even removing some curses by acting on them at the cellular level).
I left the Necromizer just in case.
What if there’s a zombie apocalypse?
This is Marvel, after all — nothing is impossible…
Among the remaining 3 options, the Vivisector looks the most interesting, but the Purity Serum, which is essentially a top-tier Healing Potion, is also attractive.
However, I probably won’t be able to create either the Vivisector or the Purity Serum, so the asterisk goes to the Muscle Stimulant.
Running my eyes over the list once more and marking the most interesting and obvious options that don’t look like an “Atomic Reactor in a Garage,” the final selection wasn’t very large: Intellect Potion, Will Paralysis Poison, Stun Grenade, Protective Field Generator, Gyroscope, and Muscle Stimulant.
Only 6 options that I could theoretically (and only theoretically) do something with.
And even then, I’m not sure about the technology level required for the hypothetical Protective Field Generator and Gyroscope…
Why can I only choose 1 recipe…
This is too hard!
Okay, actually, the choice is quite obvious.