Universal Guy and the Ecos of a Multiverse Skills. English

They say that when you die, your life passes in front of your eyes in the blink of an eye. Maybe it's the brain, in its last effort, trying to find a solution to survive. For an instant, our mind works at its full capacity. What each one sees at that moment depends on their memories and experiences.

I saw something incredible. Knowledge in medicine, engineering, programming, quantum physics, and more. But, among all that, there was not a single image of family, friends, or a couple. My life was full of accomplishments, but completely devoid of human connections. I had dedicated myself to improving the world, but in the process, I lost myself.

It all ended when the powerful, who were not happy with my latest project – a clean energy source 200 times more powerful than nuclear – sabotaged it. He was checking energy levels when they caused an explosion, enough to create concentrated nuclear fission. A flash of purple, black, and blue was the last thing I saw. I thought that was the end.

---// Creating and Starting System Engine//--- Searching for Information. Body unable to function. Power overload, processing. Enough energy to find a solution, connecting to world logic. Solution found: " ́+error+ ́} Body not suitable for solution, system improvement. Collapsed realities found, solving reality !## error #"%! Insufficient data, looking for more data. Multiple collapsing realities found, complete fusion created reality. Connecting to external world logic, connection completed. Insufficient energy, body unfit for travel, solution found by transferring information and soul. Compiling world data incongruity information, overwriting data, correct data adjustment broken target line, surplus energy available, improving conditions. Searching for skills, using remaining energy.---///

Engineering (S) -> (SS) Quantum Mechanics (S)-> (SS) Medicina (A) -> (S) Architecture (S) -> (SS) Música (S) -> (SS) Mathematics (S) -> (SS) Lógica (S) -> (SS) Strength (B) -> (A) Speed (B) -> (A) Agility (C) -> (B) Memoria (A) -> (S) Electrónica (S) -> (SS)

Multiple data overlaps were found, restoring data -complete-: Anthony Edward Stark knowledge, John Wick knowledge, Park Hoon knowledge, Oppenheimer knowledge, Mike Ross knowledge. Compiling music, adjusting voice memos, completed. Procedures completed, sending consciousness, assimilation process complete, energy remaining low.

--- Sleep mode activated, waiting for power recharge... ---

The world witnessed an inexplicable phenomenon. A brain, with sufficient resources and energy, had created a system capable of interfering with the reality of our world and others beyond.

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Third person:

The roar of explosions echoed in the distance, mingling with the echo of gunfire coming from all directions. A squad of fifteen soldiers was caught in the middle of a crossfire, while the rocket launchers passed at point-blank range, fortunately without hitting them fully. They sheltered as best they could between two Humvees and what was left of a town completely destroyed by the war.

"John! John, protect the left flank! The captain shouted, gritting his teeth, aware that they were in a desperate situation.

"Yes, sir!" John Miller replied, a young soldier of 1.78 meters, dark blonde hair and blue eyes, covered in dust and blood. Although he shot down more than ten enemies, he was hit by a bullet in his left arm, and the pain was clearly reflected on his face.

"Sir, the left flank is impossible to cross. Multiple enemies... I'm hurt... Sir—" he said, turning to see the captain lying dead, with a fatal wound on the left side of his face.

"Damn!" Peter, Nick, are you still there?! John shouted, but the only answer was the deafening noise of the explosions and the rising dust, which did not allow him to see more than six feet.

As the gunfire died down and the chaos calmed down, a small group of five Iraqis began to close in on the Humvees. They searched for survivors, ready to loot any weaponry they could find.

________________________________________

First person:

So... This is the end, I thought, as an ironic laugh surged inside me. For a young man who forged papers to enter the army, having made it this far was already a miracle. What did he really expect? Glory? Do something meaningful before you die? I just wanted to serve my country, even if it was in its last moments.

I sat against a wall, watching the enemy approach. Speaking in Arabic, I spat the words in their faces.

"(So what's next, you bastards? Looting and more murders?) "I learned Arabic during the year I spent here, and my quick memory allowed me to master it quite well.

One of them looked at me with disdain.

—(Damn Americans, always believing that they are the heroes. You invaded our lands. But you're special... Our leader wants you to die today, for him and for our God.)

Listening to him, I could only think: everyone has their version of the truth. Wars are nothing more than that, two sides fighting to impose their "truth". In the end, the winner decides which one is correct. But why was it "special"? What did it have to do with all this?

Smiling mockingly, I replied:

"(I hope you've said goodbye to your god by now, you. Each is worthy of his or her own truth.)

I let go of the bolt of a grenade in my hand and dropped it. One of them raised his gun to shoot me, but it was too late. The explosion engulfed us all, eliminating the last remaining enemies.

"Hahaha, I did it. They have been avenged, my brethren. Forgive me, it seems that they died because of me. I just hope that damn David doesn't end well... I curse you, David Rockefeller! The image of all my companions flashed through my eyes as I began to fade. That imbecile had managed to hit me twice, one in my leg – the pain in it confirmed it – and another in the middle of my abdomen. Impersonating a son of the Rockefeller family to complete great military achievements for nonsense to increase the value of the family... that was the mission. I didn't really care, but money is money. At least I was able to help pay the bills and have them operate on mother. My girlfriend had cheated on me so I had nothing more to go back to, but my family, at last, would live like queens: my dear mother, my beautiful aunt, my dear cousins. With my death, everything would be resolved, so why fight? The arms of death feel so warm and comfortable right now. How beautiful Miss Death looks giving me a warm hug.

His body was left inert in the middle of a field that was beginning to calm down, the dust settle and cool the impact zones. There, in the middle of a completely chaotic battlefield, a single pulse of energy ran through John, a small spark that ignited the flame of great change in this world.

The distant roar of explosions still resounded, calming down in a span of just seconds, as his eyes began to focus on the scene before him. He opened his eyes with great effort, his body resisting any attempt at movement. The smell of gunpowder and dry earth filled his nostrils as the blazing desert sun relentlessly beat against his skin. He didn't know where he was or how he got there. He was only certain that he had died and now he was in an incomprehensible scenario.

He sat up slowly, his body protesting with every movement. The pain was a constant reminder of his wounds: a bleeding leg, a bruised arm, and a side that burned like fire. He looked around, seeing the motionless bodies of soldiers strewn across the ground. Their faces were a reflection of death, and their presence made him question his own existence in that place.

Opening my eyes and feeling the pain all over my body, I could barely put on a wry smile.

"It's incredible not to have died after that explosion... I should have melted, really.

I tried to get up, but the pain quickly returned to my body. My expression only reflected the great suffering. Even with the pain and blood loss slowly draining my side, I managed to stand up. All around, the dust settled enough to reveal more of the scene.

"What the hell is this?" Military? When did they arrive and why are they dead? "Looking in the bodies for some information, I managed to find a crumpled paper on the body closest to me.

"Let's see... Captain Johnson, 32 years old... Reconnaissance Mission Order... coordinates: 33.8500° N, 42.0400° E. But where is this?

A strong headache flashed away, bringing with it strange images and knowledge that stirred in my mind, merging with other memories. My brain struggled to process all the new information, but my body was reluctant to follow me.

"Wow, what a migraine!" The tequila was strong... No, wait, I didn't drink a drop last night.

Walking to the nearest humvee, visions and new knowledge continued to flow. When I touched the door handle, the flow of information finally stopped, and the look of pain on my face disappeared. With my left hand, which was still intact, I felt the side where the bullet was still inside. I opened the door of the humvee and lifted the seat to find a first aid kit, some rations, and simple medical supplies: gauze, bandages, and sealants.

Without thinking too much, I took the bottle of alcohol and poured it over my wound, disinfecting it as best I could. With a bandage over my mouth so I wouldn't scream, I put two fingers inside the wound, feeling the metal of the bullet.

"Damn it... without internal bleeding, at least. But taking the bullet out is going to be a problem without the right equipment.

I applied gauze and bandages to the wound, squeezing it tightly to stop the bleeding. Then I did the same with the cut on my arm, which, luckily, had only been a scratch.

After stabilizing my wounds, I went over what happened again. But I couldn't understand how it had ended up here or why there was a confrontation. I sat in the driver's seat and grabbed a Beretta, checking the magazine instinctively, as if my mind already knew what to do: always know how many bullets you have.

"Ok... The reflection in the mirror is not my face, but now it is. I'm handsome, quite handsome I would say. Another thing to find out... I should be more agitated, but the worry just went away. I turned on the radio in the humvee. Al Assad base, change... Here a survivor of the 12th regiment — but I only heard static.

"Let's see... My face changed, my body too. I'm in the middle of a war, and I'm a U.S. Marine, so I guess I'm somewhere in Afghanistan or Iraq. My regiment is dead, and I know none of these poor souls.

After turning on the radio and only receiving static after minutes of static, I looked at the body next to you in the driver's seat.

"Well, my friend, it looks like the radio isn't going to help us," he said, letting out a sigh before smiling tiredly. What are you saying? Time to go home.

He leaned over the body, as if waiting for an answer.

"Yes, yes, you're right. A hot bath, new clothes, and a good meal all sound perfect. Or in your case... well, just the hot bath, right?" he laughed nervously, trying to break the tension. Forgive me, I get nervous right now.

He got out of the vehicle, the wounds on his leg and abdomen still reminding him of the harshness of the situation with each step. With palpable effort, he began to lift the fallen bodies, one by one, onto the Humvee. As he carried them, his gaze met the soldiers' faces, and something inside him began to crack. He didn't know them, nor did he remember fighting by his side, but his body reacted for him. Silent tears began to fall as he finished carrying the last body.

He didn't understand why he was crying, but he couldn't stop.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, wiping his face with his bloody sleeve. I don't know why I'm doing this, but... I feel like I must.

When he finished, he looked at the bodies lined up in the Humvee, took a deep breath and murmured:

"You owe me a cold beer in the afterlife, guys.

He climbed into the driver's seat, started the engine, and the Humvee roared in response. As the midday sun shone brightly, he began his journey to the base, determined to face whatever fate had in store for him.