Ten minutes passed in the blink of an eye.
The system prompt sounded again:
"Teleportation countdown: 10... 9... 8... 3... 2... 1!"
When the countdown ended, everyone in the white preparation room was enveloped in a crimson light and vanished.
A virtual interface appeared in front of Fenric, displaying a young man with a physique roughly three tis more muscular than Fenric’s usual body.
"Samsara Player—Shura, this is your default appearance in this world. If you are not satisfied, you may customize it now."
Fenric glanced at the default avatar generated by the system. It looked impressive enough, so he didn’t bother changing it and chose Confirm.
The next prompt followed:
"Please enter your na.
Note: Your identity is set as a civilian by default and cannot be changed."
Without hesitation, Fenric typed in the na: "Ronan Anderson."
Yeah... I’ll stick with this na from now on.
"Identity confird. Transmitting to the dungeon world."
The red light faded. Fenric found himself standing on a street in New York City.
It was early morning—around five or six o’clock. The streets were sparsely populated, lending the city an eerie quietness.
"Attention: You have five hours of preparation ti. After five hours, the Chitauri invasion will begin."
Fenric smiled slightly at the system’s prompt.
Snap!
A hand suddenly clapped onto his shoulder.
"Hey, man, I need a word with you."
Two tall, dark-skinned n hooked their arms around Fenric’s shoulders and casually dragged him toward a nearby alley.
A cold glint caught Fenric’s eye as one of them pressed a knife against his ribs.
"Don’t even think about screaming, or I’ll carve you up."
Fenric only gave a faint smile and walked with them, cooperating as if nothing were wrong.
A robbery? Predictable.
Fenric had long heard that Asian immigrants in New York were frequently targeted by street robbers or by those racists. To see it happen firsthand was almost amusing.
Two street thugs thought they could rob him just because he looked like an easy target?
They clearly had no idea who they were dealing with.
Less than a minute later, Fenric strolled out of the alley unhard.
Behind him, the two robbers lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious.
Fenric smirked and muttered under his breath:
"Pathetic."
His spoils of war amounted to just $27 from their pockets.
Better than nothing... enough for a cab ride.
Hailing a taxi, Fenric climbed in and said in fluent English:
"Take to Stark Industries."
"Sure thing, sir."
Twenty minutes later, the taxi pulled up in front of a towering skyscraper.
Fenric gazed up at the sleek, gleaming facade and couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.
Tony Stark... filthy rich as always.
His first priority was clear: get the Iron Man armor.
The entire plan hinged on acquiring it.
Fenric walked into the building.
The first floor, which served as a reception hall, was open to the public.
But to access the upper levels, one needed to pass through a strict identity verification system.
And the Iron Man suits? Naturally, they were stored on the top floor.
Because of their strategic importance, the building’s security asures were on par with military installations.
Fenric even noticed that so security guards were ard with real firearms, and the screenings were ticulous.
Without an internal employee badge, getting past the first floor was impossible.
After surveying the situation, Fenric left the building and crossed the street to a café.
He ordered a hot drink and sat by the window, eating breakfast while keeping an eye on Stark Tower.
The taxi ride had cost him only $6, leaving him enough for a decent al.
Impersonating an employee? Forget it.
This wasn’t a movie, and the guards weren’t idiots.
If soone could sneak upstairs with just a fake badge, Tony’s armor would’ve been stolen long ago.
Not to ntion, Jarvis, Tony’s artificial intelligence system, would detect him instantly.
There was only one plan left: force his way in.
But not yet.
At the mont, the Avengers hadn’t even started fighting the Chitauri. If he barged in now, he’d risk triggering an early confrontation with the entire Avengers team.
Fenric wasn’t afraid of one-on-one battles...
...but fighting the entire team?
Even he wasn’t that reckless.
There’s another way.
He could wait for Loki to make his move.
In the original tiline, Loki had installed the teleportation device atop Stark Tower to open the space-ti portal and summon the Chitauri army.
If Fenric’s guess was right, Loki would appear directly on the rooftop.
Jarvis would have detected any conventional intrusion by now, so Loki must be teleporting in.
Ti passed.
Four hours slipped by, and the morning bustle of New York returned.
Fenric stepped out of the café, stretching lazily.
Suddenly, his eyes shot upward.
A flash of blue light appeared on the rooftop of Stark Tower, followed by the ergence of a glowing portal—Loki and his entourage stepping through.
Fenric slapped his forehead.
Damn, I almost forgot—Loki has the Space Stone.
Teleporting straight onto the roof? A bold move.
Counting on Loki was pointless. Fenric would have to handle this himself.
With that decision, Fenric circled to the back entrance of the building.
There were far fewer guards there.
He crouched, focusing his strength.
Boom!
The ground beneath him cracked as his legs exploded with power, leaving a spiderweb of fractures on the pavent.
A loud whoosh filled the air as Fenric launched himself upward like a human missile, soaring toward the building.
He wasn’t flying—just jumping.
But with his current strength, clearing a height of ten ters or more was trivial.
Crash!
Fenric smashed through a window and landed inside the building—on the eighth floor.
"Ahhh!!!"
The sudden intrusion startled several young office workers.
A few foreign won scread in terror, thinking a terrorist attack was underway.
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