Now standing in front of the hospital's main doors, Alex took a deep breath as he looked ahead.
"Time to see what this world has to offer," he muttered, stepping out confidently. He flagged down a taxi and climbed in, casually giving the driver the address to his home in this world—the one tied to the identity of the body he now inhabited.
It was his second day out of the hospital. After a thorough checkup and some basic food, the doctors had been stunned at how perfectly healed he was. His recovery had landed him a spot in their internal miracle recovery records—though they quietly filed it under "unexplained" to avoid the paperwork.
The city drifted by in a blur outside the taxi window as Alex leaned back in the seat. His thoughts were razor-sharp, his body humming with newfound strength, and a low beat played in his mind like a personal soundtrack to his rebirth.
With his brain now operating like a supercomputer—thanks to the System—he could wirelessly connect to apps, stream music, and even sync with local networks, all without lifting a finger. Right now, his inner playlist was rolling, the track of choice echoing with bass and defiance.
"Piece of Me" by Britney Spears, ironically, was hitting harder than expected. Cyberpunk vibes, rebellion, and transformation—it fit.
Despite wielding the abilities of a cyborg-like villain, there wasn't a hint of robotic stiffness in him. The template didn't impose a mechanical body or restrict his movement. No cold steel or clunky servos. Everything felt natural—fluid. His limbs moved like his own, his senses sharper than ever, and his mind buzzing with possibilities.
He wasn't just enhanced—he had inherited every bit of power from the template without being a robot himself. No metal limbs, no mechanical heart—just raw, streamlined ability packed into a human shell.
"Oh, I'm already loving this system of mine," Alex muttered with a growing grin.
The taxi driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror.
"You look happy, sir?"
Alex chuckled. "Yeah, I am."
The driver nodded with a smile. "Well, I hope you make me happy too, then."
"Sure thing. I'll throw in a nice tip, buddy," Alex replied casually, making the driver laugh as he hummed along to the radio, the mood in the car getting a bit lighter.
Alex leaned back again, the hum of the engine mixing with the music in his head.
Soon, the taxi pulled up in front of a cozy little house nestled in a quiet neighborhood. It wasn't grand, but it had charm—a warm, lived-in feel. This was the place Alex now called home. Technically, the original body belonged to an orphan who'd gone through the foster system. After aging out, he'd been living alone, and now… Alex had inherited it all.
"Yeah, little cozy home, sweetie," he muttered with a smirk as he stepped inside. He sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose.
"Okay, first order of business—air freshener. And probably some deep cleaning."
He looked around the small living room. Faded curtains, an old couch, a dusty coffee table. Everything screamed budget living, but it was real. It was his.
"Did I seriously just get Isekai'd into low-income survival mode?" he muttered, shaking his head with a small grin.
Still better than being dead.
After half an hour of deep cleaing the house, Alex plunged on sofa.
"Now... what's next?" he mumbled to himself, looking up at the ceiling.
He thought about the year—2002.
"So we've got Blade and the vampire stuff… then there's Black Site operations… probably early whispers of Red Room crap… Oscorp maybe?"
He laughed lightly. "Man, just a lot of fun stuff to mess with."
With a lazy grin, he laid back on the sofa, arms behind his head, eyes on the ceiling.
"I should start with the vampire mess first. Red Room can wait..." Alex muttered, pulling out his phone and glancing at his bank account.
"One million and some spare change," he mused. "Nice cushion, but not nearly enough. I need real money."
His fingers tapped idly on the screen as he stared out the window, thoughts racing. He didn't need charity—he needed capital. Leverage. Power. And what better place to start than with something that wouldn't be missed?
"Vampires… they don't pay taxes, don't do press, and sure as hell won't be needing their bank accounts after I'm through with 'em."
A slow, wicked grin stretched across his face.
"Time to go vampire hunting—old world style."
With that, he opened his laptop and booked a first-class flight to Europe. If he remembered correctly, Eastern Europe still had lingering nests—ancient bloodlines hiding in castles, old money sitting in hidden vaults, and maybe even a few artifacts he could snag.
And more importantly?
Easy prey for his current self.
After booking the ticket, Alex glanced at the screen.
"Tomorrow morning, huh? So I've got the whole day to get myself... properly trained."
He muttered with a sly smirk as he stood in the middle of his living room. Cracking his neck, he walked back to the bedroom, digging through the drawers until he found a sleek, black mask and an old combat knife.
"Still sharp," he muttered, testing the blade with his thumb. "Let's see how rusty I really am."
With a flick of his fingers, his side computer booted up. Alex scrolled through martial arts vids, underground fight forums, and combat tutorials—not because he didn't know how to fight, but because he could now process and mimic every move with near-perfect accuracy.
Thanks to his enhanced mind, each clip played like muscle memory syncing in real time.
Then, he headed down to the basement. It wasn't some secret lair or high-tech bunker—just a cluttered storage room packed with random boxes, old furniture, and dust-covered junk from a past he barely remembered.
Alex looked around with a sigh.
"Yeah… not exactly secret hideout yet."
One by one, he began transferring the old items into his inventory, planning to sort and dump them later. Boxes vanished with a flick of his hand, old lamps, picture frames, and broken appliances blinking out of sight.
***
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