I’m in Marvel, but I play Yu-Gi-Oh!?

He woke up with a sharp gasp before cursing out loud, "For fuck's sake!!"

The words came out before he could stop them, raw and furious, like the echo of something that hadn't finished yet, as fragments of the rage-inducing event are replayed again and again in his mind, hitting him almost like a physical blow.

Five matches in a row. Five different players. The same damned deck with the same damned execution and with the same exact result.

"Angelechy… of course it was fucking Angelechy," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. "Draw, stall, lock, burn… don't let the opponent 'play' the game. Genius design. Truly. Thanks, Konami. I hope that whoever allowed those cursed cards in the game experiences the 'joy' of being cockblocked for the rest of his life!"

Five losses in a row. Not because he had an unlucky draw. Not because he played worse. Not because he misplayed. But because he didn't get to "play at all".

His jaw tightened only at the thought.

He remembered the last moment clearly. The tilt, the frustration boiling over. The keyboard in his hands. The crack against the PC case.

And then a spark. A sudden flash. The searing heat. Then complete darkness.

At this point, he blinked, slowly, before reaching the grim conclusion, "... Yeah. That should've killed me… or, at the very least, sent me to the hospital, leaving me in agonising pain. But... I'm fine...?"

He became aware, slowly, that he was lying on a bed, but it was not his bed.

The first thing he noticed was the softness beneath him, the way the mattress seemed to give without collapsing, holding his weight as if it had been made for him. His own bed had always been uneven, the springs pressing through no matter how many blankets he folded over them. This was different. This felt expensive, though he couldn't have said why.

The sheets were smooth against his skin, almost slippery, and cool in a way that made him aware of every inch of his body that touched them. He shifted slightly, and the fabric whispered rather than rustled. No rough edges, no loose threads catching at his fingers. Even the pillow beneath his head was too full, too firm, cradling him instead of flattening under the weight.

Something was clearly wrong, as there is no way he could afford something like this with his office worker's salary and the various side activities around his favourite hobby.

He kept still for a moment, listening. The room was quiet, but not the kind of quiet he was used to. There was no distant hum of traffic through thin walls, no muffled voices from another room, no pipes knocking in the night. This silence felt thicker, insulated, as if the walls themselves were holding the outside world at a distance.

He opened his eyes wider, letting them adjust. The darkness wasn't complete. A faint wash of pale light slipped in from somewhere off to the side, just enough to sketch the shape of the room without revealing it fully.

It was too big.

Even from where he lay, he could tell the ceiling stretched higher than it should have. The shadows hung back, leaving space above him that felt almost cavernous. He turned his head slightly, squinting into the dimness. The outlines of furniture emerged slowly. Broad, low shapes, nothing cramped or improvised. Everything seemed placed with intention, with space around it.

A heavy piece stood against one wall, maybe a dresser or a cabinet, but it was wider than any he'd ever owned, its surface catching the faint light in dull, polished streaks. Nearby, something tall rose in the corner, too straight and clean to be anything cheap. No clutter. No piles of clothes or scattered objects. Just stillness. Order.

The air itself felt different. It carried a faint scent he couldn't quite place, clean but not sharp like detergent. Something softer, almost sweet, like polished wood or expensive soap. It didn't belong to him.

He shifted again, more carefully this time, and the bed didn't creak. Not even a small complaint. The silence held.

His gaze drifted toward the source of the dim light. A window, he realised after a moment. Not the small, grimy kind he was used to, but something larger, wide enough that the faint glow of the night sky could stretch across part of the floor. The glass reflected almost nothing back at him, just a thin, silvery sheen that hinted at the world outside without revealing it.

For a second, he had the strange impression that the room wasn't just unfamiliar; it was wrong. Too clean. Too precise. Like stepping into a place where nothing had ever been misplaced, nothing ever worn down by use.

And it made his chest tighten, just a little, because wherever this was, it wasn't his.

He sat up abruptly while muttering, "Okay. This is strange. This isn't my apartment. Not my cheap stuff. Not—"

A sudden, violent headache slammed into him, making him gasp in pain, "Ah—!"

He barely had time to grab his head before the world tilted and everything went black again.

~~~▽~~~

When he woke up the second time, it was quieter.

The first light of day broke through the window, pierced through the darkness covering the room and touched his face, which made his eyes twitch for a few moments before he slowly opened them.

Now awake, he stared at the ceiling, unmoving, as memories, which were not his own, settled into place.

Names. Places. Faces. Events. Two completely different lives carried by someone sharing the same name.

Alexander Jones, 25 years old, an orphan, single, an office worker for a small company, earning barely enough to sustain himself and enjoy his hobby.

Alexander Jones, 15 years old, was again an orphan, but this time he was the adopted son of Hugh Jones, CEO of Roxxon Energy Corporation.

Wealth. Education. Influence. This other life had it all. Along with the constant pressure of an overbearing parent and the challenges that come with it.

And then History lessons came to his mind, this time with a whole new perspective, especially World War II, where what he knew as fictional characters and organisations in one life are talked about like an undeniable truth in the other.

Captain America. The Howling Commandos. Hydra.

Then there were memories of the various social events he accompanied his father, where he met business partners, politicians, and other influential people, and among them, there was one particular individual, Howard Stark.

As he digested those new, chaotic memories, Alexander sat up slowly and muttered in realisation, "Did I reincarnate...? No. Was it transmigrate...?"

His voice was quiet this time, but not for long; as panic and dread quickly invaded his heart, which started to beat with ever-increasing speed, "No, no, no, no. Fuck no!"

This one wasn't just a different life. This was a whole different world altogether.

A world where super soldiers existed. Where secret organisations manipulated history, and that's only the tip of the iceberg, because this is a world where things, far worse things, could happen at any moment.

Genocide is just another Monday in this world. Some kind of invasion, be it alien, demonic, or whatever else, is an event that happens with horrifying regularity.

This is a world where a moody woman could casually change reality if she had a bad day, and these are only a few examples, as there are just too many ways this world can screw you over. Too many to count or even list.

"I'm fucked up beyond all reason," he said flatly, trying to contain his panic. "I died in one life… and now I'm here in this new one. In what I now know as a very dangerous and fucked up world."

A normal guy. No powers. No protection. Dropped into a world where people like him were collateral damage.

His breathing quickened the more he thought about it, but still, he tried to find some kind of solution, "Okay... okay, think. Think. There's got to be something. Transmigration means a cheat, right? There's always a cheat in these kinds of stories. At this point I'm fine with anythi—"

As if in response to his desperate plea, a soft chime echoed in his mind.

[Ding!]

[Yu-Gi-Oh! System Initialisation Complete]

________________________________________

User Identified: Alexander Maximillion Jones

System Type: Duel Interface

Primary Functions:

• Resource Management

• Card Database

• Card Manifestation Authorisation

• YGO System Shop Access

Card Framework:

• Cards must be created through external means.

• YGO System does not generate cards.

• Valid cards require confirmed binding.

Manifestation Protocol:

• Bound cards can be manifested in reality.

• Manifestation requires resource expenditure.

• Output scale is dependent on card parameters.

• Manifestation may utilise internal or external energy sources

Resources Identified:

1. Duel Energy (DE)

• Generated through duels involving the user.

• Output increases with emotional and cognitive intensity.

• Used for manifestation and high-output actions.

• Current DE: 0

2. Duel Points (DP)

• Acquired through victory in duels.

• Used for system transactions and upgrades.

• Current DP: 0

YGO System Shop:

• Available

• Exchange DP for:

– Technologies

– Items

– Blueprints

– Personal Upgrades

– System Upgrades

YGO System Future Upgrade Path:

• Upgrade functions require DP expenditure

• Locked functions include:

– Expand Card Database

– Signature Card Embodiment

– Passive DE/DP acquisition

– External interface creation

Limitations:

• Low resources restrict all functions

• High-output actions induce strain

Special Condition Detected:

• Unique card registered

[Elemental HERO Neos]

Status: Bound

Origin: Internal

[System Ready]

__________________________________________

Alexander froze and muttered, "…No way."

Something opened, right in front of him, like he could visualise it in his mind, like a holographic interface layered over reality.

He tried to touch it, but his finger passed through it, and he felt a faint sensory input that confirmed that what he was seeing was real.

Hope surged as he held back a laugh and commented, "Yes. Yes, okay. Good. That's... good. That's very good."

Then he fully focused on the interface, allowing all the information to flow in.

His expression quickly went through many changes, from hopeful to confusion to a deep, growing frown before he muttered in disbelief, "...You've got to be kidding me."

After that, Alexander stared at nothing for a long second in complete silence.

Then, he exclaimed, "What the hell..."

Another second. "What the actual hell!"

And then, louder, "WHAT THE HOLY HELL!? My cheat is a Yu-Gi-Oh! system!?"

He pressed his hands against his face, dragging them down slowly.

"Cards," he muttered. "In a world with people with superpowers, monsters, literal Gods, and Cosmic Entities threatening my very existence, the only thing I can do is play Yu-Gi-Oh!!?"

Not mythical weapons. Not broken powers. Not some mysterious artefact. Just some cards.

He exhaled sharply, "…Okay. No. Wait. Think."

He forced himself to focus again and took a closer look at the system. 'Monsters weren't just holographic images; they could be summoned. Actually summoned. Not as projections, not as tricks. But something real enough to act. To fight.'

Coming to that realisation, his heartbeat sped up. "…Okay. That's not... useless... I think."

Then came the catch. Everything required energy. Duel Energy. And he had...

Alexander paused as he checked the YGO System, "...That's it?"

Perfectly nothing. Zero. Nada. Rien. Nichts. Niente. Nanimonai.

He let out a hollow laugh. "So even if I can summon something... I can't afford anything."

Perfect. Just perfect.

His shoulders slumped slightly, but his eyes didn't lose focus as he refused to give up so soon, "…No. Not useless. Only limited."

That was different. Energy came from duels. Real ones. The system made that very clear.

Which meant, "I need people to play with."

A slow realisation began to form, 'Not just play. Compete. Be invested. Because the stronger the intent behind a duel, the more energy it produces, and the more energy I have, the stronger the monsters I can summon to my aid.'

Alexander leaned back, staring at the ceiling again. 'A game. In a world full of monsters, soldiers, and gods... And my only advantage is a freaking card game...'

A short, incredulous laugh escaped him, "This is insane..."

He turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he noticed something else in the interface of the YGO System.

One card. One with no condition, no requirement, no explanation, just there seemingly waiting for his acknowledgement. 

Alexander frowned and muttered, "Elemental Hero Neos?"

As soon as he called out its name, the card appeared in front of him with a shimmering light before it gently landed in his hand.

He didn't understand why, not yet, but somehow the card felt different, closer.

Maybe it is because he always liked the card, admired the concept of Superheroes, and tried many times to build a competitively viable deck around it, failing spectacularly every single time as the game grew more and more degenerate.

His fingers curled slightly against the card in his hand as his voice steadied, "Fine. If this is what I've got…"

A faint, determined smile appeared on his face as he muttered, "…then I'll make it work this time."

However, just as he started to think about how to properly build a deck around Elemental Hero Neos, Alexander noticed a very critical issue as he once again went over his new and old memories to cross-reference and plan the best path.

His face quickly drained of all colour as the realisation settled in. "Wait… Right now is the year 1990…"

The thought didn't land all at once, but it crept in, piece by piece, each part making it worse. He pushed himself up on his elbows, staring at nothing, as if the answer might be written somewhere in the air. "Yu-Gi-Oh!… the card game came out in 1999…"

Nine years. The number echoed in his head, heavy and absurd. He let out a short, disbelieving breath, running a hand through his hair. Maybe he'd gotten it wrong. Maybe he was mixing things up. But no, he knew he wasn't. That date was burned into his memory as he clearly remembered buying the first set of booster packs in his childhood.

His gaze darted around the room again, as if something there might contradict it, might prove this was all some mistake, but everything only reinforced the same impossible truth.

He was nine years too early.

His stomach dropped. His thoughts began to race, tripping over each other, searching for some way around it and finding nothing.

In the end, he could only vent out his frustrations by yelling, "How the hell do I play Yu-Gi-Oh! if the game doesn't even exist yet!!?"

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