[Host detected…]
[God-Level Role-Play System, binding initiated…]
[Binding progress: 1%…]
…
The roar of the explosion gradually faded from Leo’s ears.
He felt as though he had fallen into a pitch-black ocean, his body sinking endlessly, his consciousness growing dimmer.
Just as he was wondering if he was about to be reincarnated a second time right after transmigrating, an emotionless mechanical voice sounded again.
[Binding progress: 50%…]
[Scanning world rules…]
[World confirmed: Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU).]
[Host identity confirmed: Leo Vance.]
[Binding criteria met.]
[Binding complete.]
*Hum—*
With the final chime, Leo snapped his eyes open.
Everything remained dim.
The air reeked of gunpowder and blood, and distant gunshots and shouts drifted into his ears.
Strangely, those sounds felt muffled, as if separated by a thick pane of glass.
Before his eyes, a faint blue virtual light screen floated in the air.
Unlike the flashy, cluttered interfaces of third-rate web games, this system interface was austere and minimalist, displaying only a few lines of text:
[God-Level Role-Play System]
[Host: Leo Vance]
[Current World: Marvel Cinematic Universe]
[Current Character: Inactive]
[Character Completion: 0%]
Leo froze for two seconds.
His first reaction was not excitement, but a sigh of relief.
“Good.
The cheat arrived on time.
I thought this system would be like certain bosses who wait six months after hiring before paying a salary.”
The system was silent for a second before the mechanical voice spoke again.
[Host, please refrain from malicious evaluations of the system.]
Leo blinked.
“You can actually talk?”
[Yes.]
“Is there human customer service?”
[No.]
“A complaint portal?”
[No.]
“A seven-day unconditional refund policy?”
[…No.]
Leo nodded in satisfaction.
“Very good.
Sounds like a totally legitimate system.”
The system fell silent.
It had bound many hosts before: excited ones, nervous ones, and chuunibyou types who shouted things like ‘My fate is in my own hands, not the heavens’.
A host who tried to file a consumer complaint the moment he bound the system was a first.
To prevent its host from saying anything further out of line, the system decisively got down to business.
[Commencing distribution of beginner rewards.]
[Assessing current world danger level…]
[Calculating Host’s survival probability…]
[Ordinary human survival rate: 0.003%.]
The smile on Leo’s face instantly froze.
“How much?”
[0.003%.]
“Did you put the decimal in the wrong place?”
[Negative.]
The system provided a serious explanation:
[High-threat entities exist in the current world, including the Sorcerer Supreme, Asgard, Hydra, Thanos, and the Celestials.]
[The average mortality rate for ordinary humans is exceptionally high.]
[Please strive to survive, Host.]
Leo fell silent.
It made complete sense.
There was no counterargument.
On the surface, the Marvel world looked peaceful enough, but it was essentially a massive graveyard for beginners.
One day, aliens invaded New York.
The next day, rogue AI rebelled.
The day after that, a purple giant snapped his fingers.
If an ordinary human managed to survive until retirement, they could make an inspiring documentary about it.
He sighed.
“Looks like I need to buy some life insurance.”
The system added in its icy tone:
[Insurance policies do not cover the Snap.]
Leo was at a loss for words.
“You’re surprisingly thorough about that.”
Just then, the system interface shifted.
The surrounding space seemed to darken as countless black particles converged, coalescing into a jet-black card that slowly materialized in midair.
Leo’s gaze was instantly drawn to it.
*Thump.*
*Thump.*
*Thump.*
A low, heavy heartbeat echoed steadily through the space.
A beam of dim yellow light fell from the darkness above.
A figure stepped forward.
A black cape hung down.
A pointed-ear cowl concealed the face.
The bat emblem on the chest stood out starkly against the shadows.
He simply stood there in silence, yet the entire darkness seemed to become his backdrop.
Leo’s eyes instantly lit up.
“Holy crap…
that’s badass.”
The system’s voice chimed in:
[Beginner character draw complete.]
[Character: Batman.]
[Codename: The Dark Knight.]
[Character Quality: Legendary.]
[Current Status: Trial Version.]
Leo’s spirits rose.
“Trial Version?
Like a game trial that only lasts seven days?”
[Negative.]
[The Trial Version only unlocks a portion of the character’s abilities.]
[As character completion increases, full abilities will be unlocked incrementally.]
[Upon reaching 100% character completion, the Host will permanently inherit all abilities of this character and unlock the next character.]
Hearing this, Leo’s eyes shone brighter and brighter.
What did that mean?
It meant Batman wasn’t a one-time trial card—it was a permanent, scalable character!
Once the role-play was complete, even if he switched to another character later, Batman’s abilities would remain his forever.
A subtle smirk crept onto the corners of Leo’s mouth.
“This system…
is a bit more reliable than I thought.”
The system did not reply.
Instead, a stream of information surged directly into his mind.
[Character Profile.]
[Batman.]
[A human without superpowers, yet feared by countless superpowered beings.]
[What he represents has never been sheer power.]
[It is will.]
[Host, please remember:]
[A true Batman never relies on miracles.]
Reading the final sentence, Leo’s expression gradually grew solemn.
It was true.
What made Batman great was never the gear—it was the man behind the cowl.
He could fail.
He could bleed.
He could even fall.
And most importantly: when Batman schedules a fight with you, if you can run, run.
Right at that moment, the system prompt chimed once more:
[Claim trial version character abilities?]
Leo did not hesitate for a single second.
“Claim.”
The next instant—*boom!*
A colossal, terrifying torrent of information rushed straight into his mind.