The world smelled of sand, smoke, and saltwater.
Pluto stood still, barefoot on a golden shoreline. The sun burned low behind him, casting molten shadows across the coast. Waves hissed over black volcanic rocks, while wind danced with grains of ancient sand.
He blinked once. Then again.
No confusion. No fear.
His body, though new, processed everything in perfect rhythm—the scent of sulfur in the distance, the tiny vibration of tectonic plates beneath his feet, the faint distortion of heatwaves from something watching.
He should have been overwhelmed.
But he wasn't.
*Adaptation complete*, a quiet voice echoed in his mind, cool and mechanical.
Pluto exhaled slowly. "So it begins."
With a soft chime, a blue holographic panel materialized before him, floating midair like an augmented dream.
*[SYSTEM INITIALIZED]*
*Name:* Pluto Vale
*Age:* 25 (Adjusted Biological Age: 27)
*World:* MARVEL UNIVERSE – Earth-199999
*Status:* Stable
*Core Traits:*
- Infinite Lifespan
- Absolute Adaptation
- Power Assimilation
- Immense Vitality
- True Immortality
- Damage Feedback Evolution
- Emotional Hyper-Sensitivity
- Nullified Pain Response
*Extra Feature:* Music Player [Access →]
*Note:* Marvel Producer wishes you "luck" (he finds this phrase amusing).
Pluto stared at the panel in silence for a moment, then tapped *Music Player*.
A subtle bassline thumped in his ears. Something low, orchestral, and powerful. His eyes glinted silver as the music coursed through him like a heartbeat.
*And then the scream came.*
A sonic rupture tore through the tranquil beach as something burst from the treeline. A towering humanoid, twisted with scale-like armor and spikes protruding from its shoulders, launched itself toward him—limbs contorted, jaw distended.
*A Deviant. Primitive. Hungry.*
Pluto didn't move. The creature lunged.
In a single sidestep, so fast it barely registered, Pluto pivoted. His hand shot up. Bone cracked. The Deviant's face imploded from a straight punch, its corpse tumbling in a heap of dust and shattered cartilage.
"…Ugly," he murmured.
More shadows surged from the jungle.
Four. No—seven.
Snarling, clawed, faster than wolves. A pack.
Pluto didn't wait.
He adapted.
With each movement, his body grew more efficient—muscle memory built instantly from each motion. When one Deviant swiped, he caught its wrist, twisted, and used its own momentum to crush it into another. His body became liquid motion—striking, dodging, evolving in real time.
His silver eyes pulsed with heat. A third Deviant leapt toward him.
Pluto crouched, grabbed a jagged stone, and hurled it with such force that it shattered the creature's ribcage mid-air.
He was dancing through them—silent, surgical, eerily calm.
Until the light arrived.
Golden beams split the jungle.
And the sky cracked with the arrival of *The Eternals*.
Ikaris descended like a meteor, fists glowing. Thena followed, twin blades of light forming in her palms. Kingo landed in a flash, firing bolts of pure energy. Sprite, Gilgamesh, Makkari—each appeared like divine storms in human form.
For a second, the Deviants froze.
Then the massacre began.
Blades. Fire. Fists. Speed. The jungle blazed.
Pluto fought beside them, though no one spoke. He ducked under Thena's slash, used Makkari's shockwave to launch a counter-blow. Every second, his body grew smarter, stronger.
When the last Deviant fell, head crushed under Gilgamesh's gauntlet, silence returned
Pluto stood with blood on his chest, barehanded, body unmarred.
The Eternals turned toward him.
Kingo broke the silence first. "Who the hell are you?"
Pluto said nothing. His system hovered faintly behind him, flickering.
Ikaris narrowed his eyes. "You fought like one of us. But you're not."
Thena stepped forward, blades shimmering. "You're not human."
Pluto raised an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"
"You entered our battlefield unannounced," Ikaris growled.
Pluto's voice was still, detached. "The Deviants attacked me first. I adapted."
Sprite scoffed. "Adapted? What are you, a mutant?"
"I'm something else," Pluto replied. "New here."
That was enough to trigger Ikaris.
In a blur, he lunged.
Pluto sidestepped, faster than before. His body flickered—his skin hardened, reflecting Ikaris' heat vision like glass.
Kingo fired. Pluto vanished behind a tree, then reappeared behind him, elbowing him backward.
Gilgamesh charged, fist raised. Pluto caught it. Bones cracked. Gilgamesh winced.
But before escalation could spiral further, the air *sang*.
A golden shimmer parted the space between them.
*Ajak had arrived.*
"Enough."
Her voice was gentle, but carried a weight that bent reality.
Everyone stopped. Even Pluto.
She looked at him carefully.
"You are not from this world. Yet you fight with it. Why?"
Pluto tilted his head. "I was sent here. I didn't ask to be. I just… am."
Ajak frowned, sensing something deeper, something ancient within him.
"You're dangerous."
"So is the truth," Pluto replied, voice flat.
The silence held like a knife-edge.
Then Ajak smiled faintly. "Come. We need to talk."