His consciousness drifted in a deep ocean.
No freezing rain.
No sickening, metallic stench of blood.
Only light.
Warm and comforting, scented with the gentle fragrance of fabric softener.
“Look at this little guy, Ben.
His eyes look just like yours.”
A woman’s voice, soft enough to melt steel.
Then came a pair of rough hands.
Calluses rasped against his cheek, scratchy yet radiating a reassuring warmth.
“Like me?
Well, then this kid’s definitely gonna be a heartthrob when he grows up.”
The man’s chest rumbled, his hearty laughter sounding as if muffled through water.
Fragmented memories rushed back like a surging tide.
Fourteen years ago.
Queens.
Two-year-old Leon sat on the carpet, clutching a plastic toy soldier missing a leg.
Through his eyes, the world looked entirely different.
Countless dense streams of data floated in the air, resembling the digital rain from *The Matrix*, yet far more intuitive and concrete.
His gaze swept over the toy soldier in his hands:
[Target: Low-grade Polyethylene Toy]
[Status: Damaged]
[Structural Weakness: Broken left leg joint.
Repair requires heating to 130°C for bonding]
His gaze shifted to May, busy in the kitchen:
[Target: Human Female]
[Status: Mild fatigue, L4 lumbar strain]
[Recommendation: Massage or hot compress]
So this was the compensation given by that so-called “Creator God”?
[Tactical Analysis].
It sounded impressive—the ability to see through the essence of everything and calculate the optimal solution.
But what good was it?
“Damn it…”
Two-year-old Leon mumbled a curse and tried to stand, but lost his balance and plopped right back down into the pile of toys.
*Clatter.*
Building blocks scattered everywhere.
Amidst the colorful LEGOs and plushies, a dark object rolled over to his feet.
That wasn’t a toy.
It was a wristwatch.
A broad face, a black-and-green color scheme, and right in the center sat that iconic green hourglass emblem, glinting with a cold metallic sheen in the sunlight.
Leon froze.
Even having watched countless shows in his past life, he recognized this thing at a single glance.
The Omnitrix.
The ultimate genetic weapon in the universe—a god-tier artifact that could transform its wearer into countless alien heroes.
In that moment, a theme song etched into his DNA automatically started playing in his head:
*”It started when an alien device did what it did…”*
So this was his Golden Finger?
This was the “starter pack” that old bastard gave him?
With this, forget just protecting his dad—he could do whatever he wanted!
Leon’s heart pounded wildly.
He reached out with a chubby little hand, trembling as he grabbed for the watch.
The moment his fingertips touched the watch face, the streams of data before his eyes refreshed frantically:
[Target: Omnitrix (Unactivated Version)]
[Internal Payload: 1,000,903 Alien DNA Sequences]
[Current Status: Locked]
[Unlock Condition: Unknown]
[Energy: Full]
Locked?
The wild ecstasy froze on Leon’s face.
Refusing to accept it, he pressed on.
He slapped the dial hard with his chubby fingers.
No reaction.
He tried twisting the bezel like an Oreo.
It didn’t budge.
He even tried biting the green button with his two newly sprouted front teeth.
*Crack.*
Ouch.
His teeth hurt.
The face remained cold and silent, like a lifeless rock.
[Warning: Host bio-energy level too low to withstand transformation load.
Forced activation will result in genetic collapse.]
A line of red warning text flashed across his retina.
Leon sat dazed in place.
The god-tier gear in his hands suddenly felt like a scalding hot potato.
It was like being handed a Gatling gun, only to be told you needed another twenty years of weightlifting before you could pull the trigger.
It was just for show.
“Leon?
What’s wrong, buddy?
Don’t you like the watch?”
Ben Parker’s large face suddenly popped into view.
Fresh off his shift, he carried the unmistakable scent of motor oil from the auto repair shop.
He scooped Leon up from the floor, perching him atop his shoulders, his rough hands holding steady on his son’s short little legs.
“Look!
Flying high—!”
Ben spun around the living room, imitating the roar of an airplane.
Leon held onto his father’s greying hair, looking down at the man from above.
The wrinkles around his eyes, the silver hair at his temples, and those eyes that were always smiling, filled with boundless warmth and patience.
Data flickered across his retina:
[Target: Ben Parker]
[Status: Healthy]
[Hidden Tag: Untimely Death (Fate Weight: Extremely High)]
A damn high-probability death event.
It was a scripted death.
It was fate.
Leon felt a lump in his throat.
He wrapped his arms tightly around his father’s head, pressing his cheek against the prickly hair.
He had watched with his own eyes as Ben Parker worked overtime just to buy him limited-edition toys, watched this man work himself to white hair for the family.
This wasn’t some comic book NPC with just a few lines of dialogue.
This was his dad.
A living, breathing dad who laughed, got tired, and carried him on his shoulders to see the world.
“What’s wrong, little lion?
Are you hungry?” Sensing his son’s quietness, Ben set him down and rubbed his stubble against Leon’s cheek.
“Come on, let me sneak you some cookies May just baked.
Don’t tell Peter, he’s supposed to be on a diet.”
Helplessness.
Rage.
Until…
that rain last night.
Until the sound of a red brick crushing a skull echoed.
“Gasp—!”
Leon bolted upright in bed, his chest heaving violently as cold air rushed into his lungs, leaving a sharp sting.
Darkness.
This wasn’t the sunlit living room from before.
Heavy curtains blocked out all light.
This was reality.
Memories flooded back in an instant.
The rainy night, the high-voltage plasma arc, and his father’s eyes shining unnaturally bright in the storm.
Leon turned his head stiffly.
Someone was slumped over the edge of the bed.
May Parker.
She was sleeping lightly, her brows tightly furrowed, her hand tightly clutching a damp towel.
Leon focused his gaze on his mother as his analytical instinct automatically kicked in.
[Target: May Parker] [Status: Post-trauma severe panic sequelae / High mental tension] [Physiological Features: Abnormal adrenaline levels, Heart Rate: 95 bpm (Sleeping State)] [Recommendation: Comfort, or medical intervention]
Cold, clinical data—yet dissecting the heaviest, most profound love.
Leon felt as if a hand were squeezing his heart.
He lowered his head and looked at his left wrist.
The Omnitrix, which had played dead for sixteen years, no longer looked like dark plastic.
In the center of the dial, the iconic hourglass symbol emitted a faint green glow, pulsing slowly like the steady breath of a living creature.
Last night’s violent strike, the flames that melted through steel…
It wasn’t a dream.
Pyronite (Heatblast).
That searing feeling of magma flowing through his veins seemed to linger at his fingertips.
As he focused on the watch face, the interface that had always displayed [Locked] now refreshed rapidly:
[Omnitrix System Self-Check Complete]
[Bio-energy Level: Target Met]
[Current Status: Cooling Down (Time Remaining: 04:12)]
[Unlocked Gene Sequences: 1/10 (Initial Playlist)]
— Sequence 01: Pyronite (Heatblast)
— Sequence 02: [Locked]
— Sequence 03: [Locked]
…
At the bottom of these data streams, a line of bold, crimson text suddenly popped up, brimming with mockery and chill:
[Combat Settlement Report]
[Kill Confirmation: 2 (Carbonization / Kinetic Lethality)]
[Fate Node Monitoring:]
— Original Trajectory: Ben Parker dies, catalyzing the birth of a hero!
— Current Trajectory: Ben Parker survives; Ben Parker kills key NPC.
[Warning: Fate line timeline shift detected.]
[Plot Points Acquired: 2/10]
[Evaluation: Congratulations, little butterfly.
You flapped your wings.
Now, are you ready to face the hurricane?]