Cherreads

Glitched Into the Ominiverse

Universal_peace
What if the game you were building… became your only lifeline in another universe? Luke Haken was just a regular game developer—overworked, sarcastic, and more comfortable debugging code than dealing with real life. But when a reality-shattering event pulls him out of his world and dumps him into the Marvel Cinematic Universe, survival becomes more than just guesswork. Waking up homeless in New York City, with no identity, no allies, and no clue how he got there, Luke discovers something impossible: a system—his own unfinished game app—has embedded itself in his mind, complete with a class selection screen, skill tree, and stat-based progression. It’s not a dream. It’s not a simulation. And the stakes are terrifyingly real. To survive, Luke must grow stronger, faster than the world around him can collapse. As the system begins unlocking new worlds beyond the MCU, he realizes this is only the beginning. The journey across the Ominiverse has begun. Disclaimer: This is a fan-made work inspired by various movies and related media. All rights to existing characters, settings, and intellectual property belong to their original creators and associated rights holders. Only the original character (OC), Luke Haken, and any original content are owned by me, the author. Notice: This fanfiction is something I’m writing purely for fun, so if it’s not your thing, feel free to skip it—no hard feelings!
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I Leash Emperors: The Dead Shout. I Smile

The dead scream for justice. They have been screaming for centuries. In my office on the 88th floor, the sound is indistinguishable from the hum of the paper shredder. I have twelve of history's most dangerous minds in my vault—Caesar, Cleopatra, Napoleon, Wu Zetian, and eight others whose names are synonymous with the word empire. I stripped them of their crowns and their divinity and left them with the only two things that survive death intact: greed, and memory. Then I put them to work. The boardroom is their new battlefield. Stocks are their arrows. Hostile takeovers are their sieges. The First Emperor runs my supply chains with the same draconian efficiency that built the Great Wall. The Queen of the Nile runs my PR division and calls it beneath her. Caesar rewrites the legal architecture of an entire financial district before breakfast and considers it a light morning. The rules are simple. The Emperor with the highest ROI earns twenty-four hours of full sensory restoration—taste, warmth, the burn of real alcohol, everything the synthetic body cannot feel. The Emperor at the bottom earns something else: a Hell Start. Reincarnation as a beggar, a eunuch, a sacrificial lamb in the next cycle. They know this. It keeps them focused. Every full moon, the tavern opens. The millions they killed in their lifetimes gather as my Jury—compressed into a medium that runs on pure hatred, sustained by a spite so concentrated it has proven, against all known physics, to be a measurable energy source. They vote. They decide which of their tormentors leads the next charge, and which of the most venomous among them earns a temporary body to return to the waking world. Wu Zetian shed her imperial robes to kneel at my feet and beg for a private review of her HR directorship. Arsinoe—murdered by her own sister two thousand years ago—spent six weeks haunting Cleopatra's servers and built a perfect weapon before she ever asked me for the body to deliver it. Cleopatra herself believes her beauty is a currency I will eventually accept. She has not yet understood that in this building, the only currency is performance. I do not need loyalty. I need sharp blades. I do not trade in mercy. I trade in ROI. They believe this is my game. They do not ask why I need to win it. Rules? I am the rule. Harem? The highest-tier spoils of a game they don't know the stakes of. Every arc is a different world. Every world is a wound that needs closing. The Emperors do not know this. They never do. Perhaps the last thing standing between their world and oblivion is a man who stopped caring about it long ago. Let the dead shout. I smile. I have to. Tags: #InfiniteFlow #DarkFantasy #HighStakesPolitics #DivineAutocracy #GrimDark #RuthlessMC #HistoricalFigures #DarkHarem Content Advisory: Heavy power dynamics, sensory manipulation, historical figures in morally compromised positions. MC is an unapologetic autocrat. No redemption arcs.
Aetherion_Vael · 2.2k Views