Marvel: I Am Only A Human Afterall

In a small, grimy boy's washroom at a high school in New York, a 17-year-old boy with messy blonde hair and striking golden eyes was taking a thorough beating.

Five other boys, all around his age, were pummeling him without mercy, their fists making dull thuds against his body in the dim, stuffy space.

The bullies wore amused grins, treating the situation like some twisted joke, biting into their victim like rabid dogs. Their victim? A boy named Eren, who was very much not having a good day.

"Die, you fucking lowlife!" one of them yelled, clearly taking his bullying very seriously.

Eren, who'd been enduring this for way too long, felt something snap inside him. Pain coursed through his body, but his patience, already worn to its thinnest thread, finally gave out.

With a sudden surge of frustration, he swung a weak punch at Noah, the ringleader of the group. His hand barely made it halfway to the target, but in his head, it probably felt like a scene straight out of an action movie.

"Oh! Look at the little nerd trying to act tough," Noah said, dripping with sarcasm as if he'd taken a few extra classes in it.

He casually patted one of his friends on the shoulder, sharing the joke, all while effortlessly blocking Eren's punch like he was swatting a fly.

Then, without skipping a beat, Noah delivered a brutal knee straight to Eren's groin—because of course, that's where bullies aim when they've run out of creativity.

"Ahhh—Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" Eren's scream echoed through the bathroom, a tragic mix of pain and embarrassment. His entire body seized up, and he crumpled to the ground, hands cupping his bruised manhood like it might fall off if he didn't protect it.

Noah, with his gym-toned body, had enough strength to make that knee feel like it came straight from an MMA fighter, and Eren wasn't exactly built for combat.

Noah looked down at him, smirking, like some kind of discount schoolyard king who'd just conquered his little territory.

He spit directly onto Eren's face, a thick glob of saliva splattering onto his cheek with an oddly satisfying "splat"—for Noah, anyway.

"You should've just stayed in your place, you lowlife bastard," Noah sneered, grabbing Eren by his messy blonde hair and yanking his head up like a hunter showing off a trophy.

Without a second thought, he slammed Eren's face back down onto the cold, grimy tiles with a thud that was probably way more dramatic than it needed to be. Eren's body shook as groans of pain escaped his lips, but it wasn't like the bullies cared.

The sad part? Everyone in the school knew what was going on. Noah and his band of merry idiots had been tormenting Eren for ages, but nobody dared to get involved.

Why would they? Noah's dad was the police commissioner, and messing with him meant messing with the law—well, at least that's how the scared high schoolers saw it.

Noah had inherited that classic spoiled-rich-kid attitude you'd find in old martial arts stories: "Bully the weak, fear the strong." Only, in Noah's case, the "strong" meant anyone who could bench more than him.

Eren had once tried going to the police. Yeah, big mistake. No action was taken, obviously, and the only result was Noah making him pay twice as hard afterward.

And since Eren didn't have parents to back him up, he was basically free real estate for anyone looking to let off some steam.

Life hadn't been kind to Eren even before the bullying. His dad? Taken out by wild dogs—no, seriously, the poor guy got his genitals ripped off in one of the most gruesome and awkward accidents known to man.

Then, as if the universe had a cruel sense of humor, Eren's mom slipped on a bar of soap while taking a bath and cracked her skull. It sounded like something out of a bad sitcom, but for Eren, it was just his life.

Now, lying on the filthy washroom floor as noah and his lackeys spit on him once agian before leaving, clutching his aching body, Eren couldn't help but wish for the suffering to end.

Yet, deep down, even through the pain, something inside him still flickered—a tiny ember of rage, waiting for the right moment to ignite.

But If only he could crawl out of this washroom first.

After struggling for a few minutes, Eren finally managed to crawl his way out of the grimy bathroom.

His legs felt shaky, but he pushed himself up, wobbling on his feet like a newborn deer, before stumbling out of the school building. Each step was painful, but the emptiness of the hallway brought a tiny sense of relief.

"Thank God no one's here," he muttered to himself, glancing around to make sure the coast was clear. The last thing he needed was some student or teacher catching him in this state—bloodied, bruised, and utterly humiliated.

Not because they'd help him, but because the questions, the looks, and the awkwardness would make everything even worse.

Eren knew no one would lift a finger for him, but being the subject of pity and whispers? That was a whole new level of embarrassing.

As he exited the school, he caught sight of the security guard lounging lazily by the entrance. The guard barely even looked up from his phone before tossing out a half-assed, sarcastic remark, "Did they beat you up again today?"

The guard's voice was laced with zero concern, more like he was enjoying the spectacle. Eren didn't even bother replying. What was the point? The guard was just another piece of the shitstorm that was his life.

So, Eren kept walking, his eyes focused straight ahead, heading toward his house, which thankfully wasn't too far from the school.

The short walk gave him time to think, but honestly, he didn't want to. His body ached, his pride was in pieces, and the last thing he wanted was to replay the bullying he went through today.

What good would it do? Instead, he just wanted to forget about it all, even if only for a few hours.

When he finally got home, he kicked off his shoes and headed straight to the kitchen. Opening a cupboard, he grabbed a cup of noodles—the classic go-to for someone who just needed to zone out—and threw it into the microwave.

While it cooked, he shuffled over to the couch and flopped down, reaching for the remote.

The TV flicked on, filling the room with the mindless chatter of some random series. Eren didn't even care what it was. He just needed something, anything, to drown out his thoughts.

Taking his noodles out of the microwave, he slurped them down, hoping the warm food would somehow soothe the sting of his day. But all it really did was fill the silence.

"TATAKAE! TATAKAE!! AHAHAHA, TATAKAE!"

"W-What the hell?!" Eren jolted upright, eyes wide with panic. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. There was no one else in the house—he was sure of it. The TV was playing some harmless romcom, so where the hell were these insane words coming from?

"Yowai mo!"

His body froze at the sound of those words. His heart practically stopped, and for a second, he thought he might crap his pants.

He looked around, frantically searching for the source, but the room was as empty as ever. Just when he was about to pass out from sheer panic, something even weirder started happening.

Suddenly, memories—memories he didn't recognize—began flooding his mind, hitting him like a tidal wave.

"Loyalty to others is betrayal to oneself."

"If I'm going to die, the entire world should be buried with me."

"You either rise above the rest or get buried beneath them."

The phrases felt like they were ripped straight out of some dark, dramatic movie, but they echoed inside his head like he'd known them his whole life.

Before he could make sense of anything, the mother of all headaches smashed into him, sending him clutching his skull in agony.

It was like his brain was being split open, and with each surge of pain, more memories poured in—faster and faster.

These memories… they weren't his. They didn't belong to him, yet somehow they felt familiar, almost comforting in a twisted way. It was like he had lived this before, but in a different life, in a different world.

A world where Marvel was nothing more than entertainment—movies, comics, and fantasy. A fake reality to entertain the masses.

But in that world, he wasn't at the top of the food chain.

No, he had made the food chain. He had been a psychopath, a manipulative monster who bent the entire world to his will.

The world became his personal playground, and he ruled it with an iron fist. He saw flashes of his past self—this twisted, dark version of himself—pulling the strings, leading millions to their doom.

He had killed 80% of humanity… simply because his crimes had been exposed, and he was about to be executed. And rather than go down quietly, he dragged the world into the pit with him, turning it into a living hell before his demise.

As all the memories from his past life flooded his mind, Eren's eyes transformed. Gone were the timid, nerdy eyes that once marked him as a pushover.

Now, his gaze was sharp, dark, and intense—like the kind of eyes that even a psychopath would fear. There was something unhinged about them, a dangerous gleam that hadn't been there before.

It was as if a switch had flipped, and the Eren that everyone knew was long gone.

"Look how the mighty have fallen..." he muttered under his breath, his voice carrying a bitter edge.

The words felt foreign on his tongue, yet strangely fitting. He remembered the power he once wielded, the fear he commanded, and the twisted, chaotic world he had shaped to his will.

Compared to that, this new life... this weak, bullied version of himself, was laughable. Pathetic, even.