"Uh… giving life to inanimate objects? That should just be a legend, right? Like something out of mythology—just added to give a treasure a more legendary feel, to make it seem more precious? In reality, it should be impossible."
Batman frowned, the white lenses of his cowl narrowing as he leaned closer to the monitor. His gloved fingers tapped a precise rhythm on the metallic console, betraying the unease beneath his stoic exterior. The cave-like observation deck of the Watchtower was silent except for the soft hum of advanced technology and the occasional ping of distant monitoring systems.
The power of the T-virus from that Raccoon City incident could still be explained with bioengineering—modern science may not be capable of it yet, but it's at least within the realm of imagination, some kind of advanced black technology that STAR Labs or LexCorp might develop given enough time and ethical compromise.
But this…
Animating the inanimate?
Giving life to dead matter? Granting consciousness to objects that had never known thought?
That's practically a god-like ability—the kind of power that should only exist in ancient myths carved into forgotten temple walls or whispered around primeval fires!
And yet—
That world in the livestream! It wasn't some fantasy realm with dragons and wizards, not some alien planet with incomprehensible physics.
"It looks just like a world with technology similar to ours..." Batman muttered, the analytical part of his mind still trying to impose order on chaos.
Superman, sitting across from Batman, his cape draped over the ergonomic chair designed specifically for his Kryptonian physique, couldn't help but scratch his head. The man who had faced intergalactic tyrants and fifth-dimensional imps was visibly perturbed by what he was witnessing.
"I've seen alien technology that can manipulate matter on the subatomic level, but giving true life? Creating consciousness from nothing?" Superman shook his head, a lock of his dark hair falling over his troubled eyes. "Even on Krypton, with all its scientific advancements, such a thing was considered impossible."
This charm—wasn't it way too bizarre even by their standards? After years of fighting alongside magical beings like Wonder Woman and Zatanna, they thought they'd seen everything.
If the world being invaded by the system is already this outrageous, filled with powers that defy categorization, then how terrifying must the system itself be?! What kind of entity could create such rules and impose them across dimensions?
Spear Bureau Headquarters - Somewhere in Asia
Across the ocean! In Spear Bureau HQ!
A massive flying saucer hovered in the air, made entirely of composite metals unknown to conventional science, its surface gleaming with an iridescent sheen that seemed to shift colors depending on the angle of observation. The craft radiated a strong futuristic vibe, its propulsion system eerily silent despite its enormous size, the air beneath it barely disturbed.
Inside, through corridors lined with technology decades ahead of anything publicly known, lay the heart of the organization's operations.
"Twelve charms?"
"Rat Charm?"
In the conference room, illuminated by holographic displays showing the livestream from multiple angles, Commander Zheng Xian suddenly stood up from his seat, leaning over the table with such force that his ornate chair toppled backward with a clatter.
His eyes, enhanced with cybernetic implants that glowed a subtle amber, stared intently at the screen, shock evident in their widened state.
Could it be…
After decades of research into ancient artifacts and esoteric powers, could they finally have confirmation?
It really resembled the legendary artifact described in the scrolls recovered from that Himalayan expedition three years ago!
Rat Charm?
If it's based on the Chinese zodiac as the ancient texts suggested, could the remaining charms represent the rest of the twelve zodiac signs? And if so, what cosmic power might be unleashed when all twelve are united?
"Director," a junior officer approached hesitantly, tablet in hand. "Our mystic division reports unusual energy fluctuations at all twelve of our monitoring stations. The patterns... they match the theoretical models for transdimensional convergence."
Zheng Xian's face hardened. "Alert all field teams. Priority Alpha. If these charms are appearing in that reality... they might be appearing in ours as well."
Asgard - Throne Room
"A treasure, huh?" Odin murmured, expression calm as still water, though his one remaining eye betrayed a flicker of interest.
The All-Father sat upon his golden throne, Gungnir held loosely in his aged but powerful hand. Around him, the magnificent hall of Valhalla stretched into the distance, its golden pillars rising to impossible heights, the ceiling depicting the nine realms in shimmering, magical murals that shifted and moved with life of their own.
That kind of thing? Not even worth his attention, ordinarily.
As the god-king who conquered nine realms and whose name echoed throughout the cosmos for millennia, he had seen countless wonders—he had even wielded more than one Infinity Stone before, feeling their raw power coursing through his immortal form. The power of a charm? Not impressive in his eyes, which had witnessed the birth and death of stars.
"But still…"
"Animating the inanimate? That does sound a bit interesting." Odin's lips curved slightly into a smile, his beard shifting with the subtle movement. A raven cawed softly from its perch nearby, as if in agreement.
Yes—
Interesting, indeed.
To Odin, the Rat Charm's effect was merely curious—something to toy with when he was bored between councils and wars. A diversion, nothing more.
And yet... something about this particular artifact stirred ancient memories. There had been rumors, long ago, of twelve earthly artifacts with powers that, when combined, could rival even the might of Asgard. Rumors he had dismissed as the fearful whispers of lesser beings.
Perhaps, he thought as he tapped Gungnir gently against the throne's arm, it was time to send Heimdall's gaze in search of these trinkets. Just to be certain.
Kamar-Taj - Sanctuary of the Ancient One
"A charm?"
The Ancient One looked up toward the sky, her serene face betraying nothing of her inner thoughts, though the apprentices nearby could feel the subtle shift in the magical currents surrounding her slender form.
Through the infinite void, she seemed to glimpse another world beyond the veil of reality! Her consciousness expanded beyond the confines of the physical, transcending dimensions as easily as others might step through a doorway.
One of her old friends—a practitioner from a now-vanished dynasty in ancient China—had once possessed a power that also involved runes or sigils similar to what she now sensed stirring in the multiverse.
"Could this be a similar kind of force?" she whispered, her voice carrying strange harmonics that made the air vibrate uncomfortably.
As the Ancient One pondered, Mordo couldn't help but lean in, his usually confident demeanor betraying a childlike curiosity. The training yard around them had fallen silent, other sorcerers sensing that something momentous was occurring.
"Master…"
"Do you think this kind of power is real?"
"Can it truly animate the inanimate? Is the Rat Charm just a gimmick, or…" Mordo turned to look at the Ancient One, unable to contain his curiosity, his hands unconsciously forming half-completed mystic gestures.
"A gimmick? Truth?"
The Ancient One shook her head, the movement causing light to play strangely across her features. "No need to guess. Just keep watching." Her voice carried the weight of centuries of wisdom.
"The truth…"
"Is already revealing itself." she said in a quiet, enigmatic tone, her eyes reflecting images that no one else could see—glimpses of battles unfolding across realities, of powers awakening that had slumbered since the dawn of time.
"The truth? Revealing itself?" Mordo turned toward the mystical projection she had conjured, pupils contracting, eyes going wide as understanding dawned.
The Rat Charm—
It had activated already?! The subtle shifts in the astral plane, the disturbances in the natural flow of chi around them—it wasn't just theory anymore.
Reality itself was being rewritten before their eyes.
X-Mansion - War Room
"Logan! Something's wrong!"
In the midst of a tense situation, Jean's voice broke the silence like a gunshot, her telepathic abilities amplifying the urgency in her words: "The Captain is calling for backup—he must've encountered a serious threat. Not good—his vitals are starting to drop, his mind is flooded with pain signals…"
The mental connection suddenly went fuzzy, static filling the psychic link where Cyclops's thoughts should be.
"What?"
Wolverine turned his head sharply, adamantium skeleton creaking faintly, his wild eyes locking with Jean's anxiety-filled green ones across the strategy table. The holographic display between them flickered with Cyclops's last known location, a red dot pulsing weakly.
Cyclops' sudden distress call had left Jean flustered, her usual composure cracking like thin ice. As the leader of the X-Men, Cyclops wasn't weak—he ranked among the top even within the team, his tactical mind and devastating optic blasts making him a formidable opponent. And yet—he had been severely injured in such a short time?! What kind of power could have overwhelmed him so completely?
"The Captain's in danger?!"
Wolverine's expression darkened, muscles tensing as his claws itched to extend—his instinct screaming at him to go help his comrade, even though they butted heads more often than not. The pack mentality ran deep in Wolverine's animal brain—protect your own, no matter what.
But—
Right in front of him—on the digital map—
The sudden appearance of a charm's aura made him hesitate, torn with indecision. The golden pulse on the screen matched exactly the coordinates Professor X had told them to prioritize above all else.
Not because he was tempted by the charm's power, though the idea of bringing toys to life held a certain childish appeal that tugged at Logan's carefully hidden softer side.
But because—
Of Professor X's explicit orders, delivered with a gravity they rarely heard from their mentor.
For the future of all mutants, in this chaotic age where humanity feared and hunted them, they needed to seize every opportunity they could. They had to complete the mission and secure a seat on this "new era's ark" as the Professor had called it—a chance to ensure mutantkind's survival when the cosmic storm broke.
And now—the ticket to that ark was right in front of him! The hope of completing the mission was within reach, pulsing golden on the screen, promising salvation.
But…
The Captain was in danger. His teammate, his friend—despite their differences—needed him.
Jean's face was grim, strands of red hair falling across her pale features as she maintained the weakening telepathic link with Cyclops. Her mental energy radiated her growing anxiety like heat from an open flame—Wolverine's heart burned with conflict, the animal and the man at war within him.
"Now's the moment—"
Captain America's eyes lit up with tactical recognition behind his mask. He seized the opportunity and dashed forward with super-soldier speed, his vibranium shield reflecting the afternoon sun as he moved.
Wolverine might hesitate when faced with tough choices between mission and man.
But he wouldn't!
Even if he didn't yet understand the system's mission or faction completely, the Rat Charm was obviously key to completing the task. With such a vital clue so close, Captain America wasn't about to let it slip by. His military training had taught him to recognize and exploit critical opportunities.
Collecting all twelve charms had to be the right move! Everything in his soldier's instinct told him this was the objective, clear as day.
The X-Men's hesitation? The perfect opening!
Always excellent at seizing the moment on the battlefield, Cap had already found the breakthrough. He charged straight toward the antique shop, determination in every step, his enhanced muscles propelling him forward with precision and power.
The Rat Charm was inside!! He could sense it somehow, like a radar in his mind pointing the way.
"Out of the way—don't try to stop me…" Captain America frowned as he raised his shield, not wanting to harm civilians but prepared to do what was necessary for the greater good.
Just as he was closing in on the charm's location, about to reach his target, a tall figure stepped in front of him with surprising agility, seemingly appearing from nowhere.
Tall and broad-shouldered, short-haired, wearing a blue sweater that had seen better days, with a square, upright face that radiated integrity despite the obvious nervousness in his eyes—
A classic Eastern look, with features that spoke of Chinese heritage.
It was—
Uncle Jackie!
"Hey~ buddy, listen to me! I can't let you just barge in there. If you break any of Uncle's antiques, he's gonna kill me!" Jackie said with a wry smile as he stepped forward, hands raised in a placating gesture that subtly shifted into a defensive stance.
His words were light, but his eyes betrayed his understanding of the situation's gravity. This wasn't his first rodeo with the supernatural—far from it.
He assumed a martial stance, feet planted firmly on the concrete, hands open and ready, body relaxed yet poised for explosive action.
"Step aside!"
Cap retracted his vibranium shield and instead pushed forward with his right hand—not with force, but hoping the man would back down on his own. He didn't want to hurt anyone, especially not a civilian caught in the middle of something they couldn't understand. Bullying the weak had never been his style, not since he was a scrawny kid standing up to bullies in Brooklyn alleys.
This should've been—
Just an ordinary man. A civilian to be protected, not an obstacle to overcome.
Cap didn't sense any threat from Jackie, and his strength seemed average at best. No enhanced reflexes, no superhuman abilities, no alien technology. He really seemed like just a regular guy who happened to work in an antique shop.
But—
Once they clashed, Cap realized how catastrophically wrong he was. Spectacularly, humiliatingly wrong.
Clatter!
Various trinkets and props scattered across the floor as Jackie deftly grabbed a jade paperweight from a nearby shelf and deflected Cap's gentle push with surprising precision.
The supposedly "normal" Jackie showed unbelievable combat ability during their scuffle, his movements flowing like water around the super-soldier's textbook techniques.
He wasn't exceptionally strong—Cap could feel that much in their brief exchanges, the man had only normal human strength.
But!
His movements were smooth—like silk flowing through the air. Like a greased eel, he slipped and darted everywhere with an economy of motion that spoke of decades of disciplined training. Every piece of decor—lamps, trinkets, vases—became a weapon in his hands, wielded with the precision of a master.
Shelves, couches, even the ceiling beams—became his movement tools, launching points for acrobatic maneuvers that defied both gravity and logic.
His flamboyant yet effective fighting style left even the battle-hardened WWII veteran Captain America astonished. This wasn't any fighting technique he recognized from his extensive combat experience—it was something entirely unique.
And in practice?
It was incredibly effective, beyond anything Cap had expected.
He completely stopped Cap in his tracks, refusing to let him advance a single step toward the back room where the talisman's energy signature pulsed strongest. His agile movements were slipperier than an eel coated in oil, and every time he seemed on the brink of defeat, Jackie would pull out a last-second improvisation—using a rolled-up calendar as a staff, a teapot as a distraction, even his own shoe as a projectile—and turn the tide.
Cap couldn't win through conventional tactics—there was just no way! His super-soldier training had prepared him for disciplined fighters, for enemies with patterns and strategies—not this chaotic, improvised brilliance that seemed to reinvent combat with each passing second.
He felt like he was fighting a porcupine crossed with a monkey—there was no good way to attack, no angle that wasn't defended by seemingly random objects wielded with improbable skill.
He was even starting to feel a little dazed, his enhanced mind struggling to predict what couldn't be predicted.
You could never guess where Jackie's next strike would come from, or even what household object he'd transform into a deadly weapon next. A paper fan became a blade, a scarf became a whip, a simple teacup became a precision projectile.
His unorthodox attacks left Cap reeling, forcing the super-soldier to adapt, to abandon his formal training and fight more instinctively—but even then, Jackie was always one step ahead, as if he'd spent his entire life preparing for exactly this kind of chaotic combat.
Inside a furniture-filled antique store—
No one could beat Uncle Jackie! He was in his element, surrounded by improvised weapons and movement opportunities that multiplied his effectiveness tenfold.
Super soldiers are strong—incredibly so—but still within the realm of humanity's potential.
And as long as there were enough random objects and room to move—
This was Jackie's domain! The everyday world transformed into a battle arena where the mundane became miraculous in his capable hands.
As they fought, Jackie couldn't help but think how familiar this all felt. Different talismans, different supernatural threats, but always the same Jackie Chan caught in the middle, just trying to live a normal life. He sighed internally even as he blocked Cap's shield with an antique serving tray that rang like a gong upon impact.
Some things, it seemed, never changed—no matter which reality you found yourself in.