When I regained consciousness, the first thing I noticed was the cold.
It seeped through the metal floor beneath me, chilling my bones. The air was damp and heavy with a stench—rust, oil… blood. Dim lights buzzed above, casting flickering shadows along the stone-and-metal walls.
Where the hell was I?
My limbs were sore. My wrists ached as if they'd been bound recently. I tried to move, but everything felt sluggish—like I'd been sedated. Around me, groans and muffled cries echoed through the darkness. I wasn't alone. I could make out the forms of other men slumped in nearby cells or lying unconscious across the room. Soldiers, maybe?
Then it hit me.
A sharp, unbearable pain stabbed through my skull like a hot knife.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—
I couldn't scream aloud. My body refused to move. But inside my mind, I was howling. The agony was like someone had cracked open my head and poured fire directly onto my brain.
It wasn't the same as the pain I'd felt before waking up—but it wasn't far off.
The torment lasted what felt like hours, though in reality it was probably just minutes. Slowly, the pain dulled. And in its place… memories.
Someone else's life flashed before me. Images, names, feelings. Magnus Brooks. That was his name.
My name now.
The memories didn't come all at once. They spilled in like puzzle pieces, scattered and jumbled. Sorting them was a mental marathon—but I needed to understand whose life I had just dropped into.
So I started organizing them, one memory at a time.
Thirty minutes later...
Huff
That was exhausting.
But the picture was clear now. I was Magnus Brooks—an orphan raised in an old government-funded orphanage in Brooklyn. He'd always been a bit of a loner. Quiet, disciplined, and obsessed with serving his country. When the war broke out, he was seventeen. A year later, he enlisted—sharp-minded, physically fit, with an almost intuitive grasp of weapons and tactics.
But those weren't the things that set off alarms in my head.
It was what he remembered.
Specifically… who.
He had once served alongside a man named James Buchanan Barnes—a sergeant in the 107th Regiment. Bucky.
Yes, that Bucky.
According to Magnus's memories, Bucky often talked about a scrawny guy back home—his best friend, a fella named Steve Rogers. But that wasn't all.
Before Magnus was captured, he'd heard the name Steve Rogers again—but this time through the radio and newspapers. Stories about a "Captain America," the star-spangled performer touring military bases, boosting morale for the war effort.
And that was when everything clicked.
Steve Rogers.
Bucky Barnes.
Captain America.
Which means...
I'm in the Marvel Universe.
Holy. Shit.
I felt my chest tighten—then a strange giddiness bubbled up inside me. I had been reborn… transmigrated… isekai'd—whatever you want to call it. And I hadn't landed just anywhere—I was smack in the middle of World War II in the Marvel Universe.
This was the real deal. No dream. No illusion.
I should've been terrified. But instead... I grinned.
I finally get to live for myself.
This world was dangerous, sure. But I'd been a soldier before. I wasn't afraid of danger. I had lived through war, through death. And now I had meta-knowledge—information this world shouldn't have.
If I played this smart, I could survive. Thrive. Shape my own path.
Then—
[Ding]
What the hell?
A digital sound—clear, mechanical—echoed in my mind.
[System initialization in progress…]
[1%... 10%... 30%... 70%... 100%]
[System initialization complete.]
[Welcome to the System, Magnus Brooks.]
I froze, wide-eyed.
I HAVE A SYSTEM?!
Just like in the novels. My cheat. My golden finger. My edge.
I didn't hesitate.
'Status!' I shouted in my mind.
[STATS]
Name: Magnus Brooks
Race: Human
Title: [Transmigrator]
Boon: [Copy]
Abilities: [Soldier's Trained Physique]
Skills:
[English – Level 7]
[Cooking – Level 3]
[Rifle Mastery – Level 6]
[Military Combat Techniques – Level 7]
The basics were there. Just enough to get started.
But now came the real questions.
System, I thought, why am I here?
Why did I transmigrate?
Who gave me this power?
[Basic information regarding the current situation loading…]
Good. Answers were coming.
I glanced around at the flickering lights and shadows dancing across the walls. With Magnus's memories, I now recognized the setting—the holding cells, the underground layout, the strange uniforms.
This wasn't just any prison.
This was a Hydra facility.
And I had just stepped into the darkest chapter of the war.
But this time… I wasn't going to be a victim of fate.
This time, I was going to rewrite the story.
**************************************************
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