Chapter One: The Lich King Has Crossed Over [New Novel—Please Collect and Recommend]

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Roald.

An ordinary college graduate in a typical Manhattan neighborhood.

He was twenty-two years old and currently ran a "family heirloom" antique (counterfeit) shop.

His identity: a transmigrator, and also the Lich King.

Glancing left and right at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, Roald nodded in satisfaction at his new appearance.

It was a face that was easy to get used to.

About one-tenth as handsome as he had been in his previous life.

Roald accepted the fact that he had crossed into the Marvel universe with remarkable calmness and ease.

There's no need to fear transmigrating into Marvel; after all, being afraid is pointless.

Crossing worlds these days isn't so bizarre or difficult to comprehend.

Especially when you come with a cheat code.

Although he didn't have the Helm of Domination, he possessed a Lich King identity card from the Frozen Throne.

Judging by the name alone, it had to be exceedingly powerful!

[Lich King]

[Effect: At the end of each day, randomly add a Death Knight card to your hand.]

[Description: Before you attack me, you must first deal with the minions under me with the faces of taunt.]

Seeing the card's feature—gaining a Death Knight card at the end of each day—Roald felt a surge of excitement.

Though the details were scant and the card itself looked rather simple, the fact that it was a role card with potential for growth made up for everything.

With this, Roald essentially had a steadily expanding deck every day.

Since arriving here, despite the randomness, his deck had already accumulated three usable cards and several function cards.

He especially enjoyed the thrill of such surprises.

[Graveyard Summoning]

[Effect: Summon two undead minions to fight for you.]

[Description: The great Lich King has no time to waste on riffraff.]

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[Queen Zazaira of the Underdark]

[Effect: Summon an undead spider demon queen to fight for you.]

[Description: Who could possibly dislike the Spider Queen in black silk? The cultists adore her.]

[Frostmourne]

[Effect: Equip Frostmourne.]

[Description: Take it—this is your fate.]

Seeing these three cards, Roald was at a loss for words.

He could only marvel at how incredible his cheat was!

He felt a newfound hope for the future.

Anyone wanting to attack him would first have to deal with his taunting minions. Although the equipment card [Frostmourne] required six soul energies to equip, the zero-cost [Graveyard Summoning] and [Queen Zazaira of the Underdark] could resolve his immediate troubles.

[Graveyard Summoning] could bring forth two ghoul soldiers, while [Queen Zazaira of the Underdark] was on a higher tier. Without any superheroes conveniently available as test subjects, Roald felt he needed more data to gauge her true power.

The soul crystals needed for the cards were easy to come by; the crystal energy to maintain the cards came from souls. In Hell's Kitchen, Manhattan, the one thing in abundance and of least value was just that.

With this, Roald was confident his life in New York would be steady and happy. Drawing cards every day and quietly becoming stronger was a pleasant prospect.

When his energy reserves grew, and the deck eventually yielded other Scourge commanders—like Kel'Thuzad—Roald could even forge a phylactery for himself.

Or perhaps mass-produce them.

The future was full of promise.

He would never fear the Snap again.

Or, before Thanos could gather the gems, Roald might seize them for himself.

Straightening his clothes in the mirror, Roald left his room, opened the door to embrace the moonlight, glanced at the sky, and then back at his home. With the cards in hand, he felt reassured. It was time for his nightly energy harvest.

The journey to power, Roald decided, would begin with gathering energy each night.

The familiar air of Manhattan, the well-known streets, and the posters he saw every day filled him with delight.

Tonight, the city was as unremarkable as ever.

Posters were everywhere, featuring a man in a skintight suit holding a round shield—a sight Roald could recognize from countless movies: Captain America.

Seeing this reaffirmed the reality of the world he now inhabited.

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This was Marvel—a world teeming with hidden powerhouses, where catching a handful of superheroes was almost routine. Still, Roald knew he needed more information about this world and whether any unexpected outsiders had slipped in.

Life for an ordinary person in Marvel was harsh. Not to mention the endless stream of chemical accidents, experiments gone wrong, pollution, alien life forms, personality mutations, and all manner of unimaginable causes giving rise to heroes and villains.

Sometimes, even the air you breathed warranted caution. Who could say there wouldn't be a bioweapon catastrophe unleashed by a certain pharmaceutical conglomerate—or perhaps one morning you'd wake to find an alien spaceship parked at your door, or a monster crawling from the Pacific to snack on the local populace in the name of population control.

This world was simply too dangerous.

Hulk, Iron Man, Thor, and many other familiar superheroes roamed here. More importantly, there was the almost omnipresent and meddlesome S.H.I.E.L.D. He had no idea who was running it now, but it remained a behemoth.

At least for now, Roald had no desire to get involved with the so-called National Security Agency.

Nor did he want to join S.H.I.E.L.D.

He was just an orphan, an ordinary man. Even if his special abilities allowed him to pass S.H.I.E.L.D.'s vetting and join up, he'd still be nothing more than cannon fodder or a wage slave—destined to be a minor figure sent on dangerous missions while the likes of Stark and Thor handled the spotlight.

The top dogs were all equally impressive, but every pawn had its own share of misery.

Walking down the street, he noticed something was missing from the night—there were no wailing sirens. It felt oddly incomplete.

But the gunshots in the distance quickly erased his doubts.

This sudden surge of freedom.

Now, this was more like it.

Hell's Kitchen in Manhattan was always lively and "friendly" at night. Every evening brought its share of chaotic surprises—muggings, bizarre attacks, alien invasions, or even a little rampage courtesy of the Hulk.

Following the gunshots, he soon found what he was looking for. The nightly routine did not disappoint. Under the dim glow of a street lamp, a gang of thugs was harassing a woman they had just robbed.

Noticing a stranger approach, one of the gang members called out to his boss.

"Boss, someone's coming."

"So what if someone's coming?" the leader snapped, frowning. "Are you blind? Can't you see I'm showing off my prized collection here? Go tell him to give us a token of friendship—or else his brains will end up looking like the tomato sauce from old Mrs. Annie's kitchen next door."

The underlings moved forward, blocking Roald's path.

"Hey, buddy, this isn't the place for you. Can't you see we're engaging in some friendly mutual aid here?"