Ryder Maxwell could be described as your everyday kid attending Midtown High—a normal student, just not in a normal world.
Ryder is the reincarnation of someone from a simple Earth into this fictional world that is no longer fictional to him. At first, he was excited about the new possibilities, but as days turned into months, and months turned into years, a total of 16 years passed, and yet his "moment" had yet to arrive.
Thankfully, this world has mutants. However, he soon learned, after various attempts, that he wasn't one of them. No mutant powers. Strike one.
He tried his luck with the Sorcerer Supreme, hoping magic could be his calling. Rejected. They checked and confirmed: no aptitude for magic or the mystic arts. Strike two.
"Hm, just two more years until Iron Man will be born," he sighed, staring out the window, lost in thought.
"Mr. Maxwell, is my class boring?" his history teacher, Mr. Lockwood, asked, snapping him out of his daydream.
"No, Mr. Lockwood. It's just... I already know about it," Ryder replied calmly.
Mr. Lockwood raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Very well, Mr. Maxwell. Let's test that knowledge, then. Tell us the date of the First World War."
Ryder leaned back slightly in his chair, his confidence unwavering. "July 28, 1914. The day World War I began, triggered by the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria."
Mr. Lockwood raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Impressive. And when did it end?"
"November 11, 1918," Ryder responded without hesitation. "Armistice Day. The treaty was signed in a railway carriage in Compiègne, France."
The class murmured in surprise. Mr. Lockwood tapped his pen on the desk, a faint smile forming. "Alright, then. How about the Treaty of Versailles? What year was it signed?"
"1919," Ryder replied smoothly. "June 28, to be exact. Five years to the day after the assassination that started it all."
Mr. Lockwood nodded, clearly pleased but not ready to let him off the hook. "Good. Now, what was the main purpose of the treaty?"
Ryder crossed his arms, his tone steady. "To officially end the war between Germany and the Allied Powers. It imposed heavy reparations on Germany, limited its military, and redrew national borders, though it also planted the seeds for World War II."
The teacher's smile widened slightly. "Well done, Mr. Maxwell. One last question. Who were the 'Big Four' at the treaty negotiations?"
"Woodrow Wilson from the United States, David Lloyd George from Britain, Georges Clemenceau from France, and Vittorio Orlando from Italy," Ryder rattled off, earning a few gasps from his classmates.
Mr. Lockwood leaned against his desk, clearly impressed. "Looks like you really do know your history, Ryder. Care to teach the class next time?"
"No, Mr. Lockwood, it's your job. Sorry for looking distracted in class," Ryder said.
Lockwood nodded at his apology and continued, "That will be all, Mr. Maxwell. Now, where were we?"
He resumed his lecture, and Ryder, no longer looking bored or detached, focused on the class like everyone else.
Ring~~~
As the bell rang, everyone began to leave, and Ryder followed suit. A few girls approached him, trying to strike up a conversation, but he just gave a casual wave and walked off.
How can I be happy when I know an entirely different world is hidden beneath the surface of this seemingly normal one? he thought to himself as he made his way home.
His destination? A sprawling mansion in Manhattan. Despite being only 16, Ryder had used his knowledge from his previous world to carve out a path to success. He knew exactly what to do to earn money, and he did just that. Now, he had amassed millions—enough to make even the most successful individuals jealous of his wealth at such young age.
"Mom, I'm back," Ryder called out as he entered the house.
"Go wash up; I've cooked something tasty," his mother's voice came from the living room.
He nodded and headed to his room. In this life, he was blessed with a family—a stark contrast to his previous life, where he was just an orphan. His father is a doctor, his mother a simple housewife, and he even had siblings: a elder sister and a little brother.
As the middle child, Ryder sometimes felt the pressure of balancing between being an example for his younger siblings and not overshadowing his older family members. But compared to the loneliness of his previous life, he wouldn't trade this for anything.
After washing up, Ryder came back to the dining room where his mother was already setting up the table with the help of the maids. The tasty thing she had prepared was a cake she had baked.
"How does it look?" she asked, her voice filled with anticipation.
Ryder looked at her as she beamed with pride. His mother was a simple woman with blonde hair and amber eyes, always wearing a kind smile on her face. She had a nurturing, warm presence that made the house feel like a home.
"It looks delicious," Ryder said, eyeing the white cake topped with fresh red strawberries.
"I know," she replied, a playful glint in her eyes. "But enough of the compliments. Let's see if it tastes as good as it looks!"
Ryder smiled and nodded, eager to try it, knowing that his mother always put love into whatever she cooked.
Ryder took a seat at the table as his mother carefully cut the cake, placing a generous slice on his plate. The sweet scent of strawberries and vanilla filled the air, making his stomach growl in anticipation. His little brother and sister were already seated, chatting excitedly about their day, while his mother took a seat beside him, her smile never fading.
"Go ahead, try it," she encouraged, eager to hear his opinion.
Ryder picked up his fork, cutting a small piece of the cake and taking a bite. The moment the sweet flavor hit his taste buds, he couldn't help but smile. It was perfect—light, fluffy, and the strawberries added the perfect burst of flavor.
"It's amazing, Mom," he said, looking at her with genuine appreciation.
She beamed at him, her eyes shining with joy. "I'm glad you like it. Cooking for my family makes me happy."