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Chapter 1: Transmigrated into Marvel
🕑 Added 2025-10-07 15:30:57 +0000 UTCNew York—hailed as the world's center of economics, finance, and commerce. It was the largest city in the United States, and also one of the most densely populated.
Yet, behind its glitz and glamour lurked filth and decay, chaos far worse than in many other cities.
Hell's Kitchen was the most disorderly district of New York. Crime ran rampant, gangs fought daily turf wars, and addicts and criminals prowled the streets at every corner.
"Chief, we've tracked the signal here. Surveillance shows the target hasn't moved."
A fully armed officer held up a portable monitor for a blond man beside him.
That blond man was George Stacy, Commissioner of the NYPD. He had been tracking this group of drug dealers for some time, even managing to plant a tracker on one of them. Tonight, he was personally leading the raid into Hell's Kitchen.
"Alright. Prepare to move in. Try to take them alive."
Through his radio, Commissioner Stacy gave the order. Three teams of armed narcotics officers stormed the abandoned church from different directions.
At that same moment, Lucas suddenly opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was a massive crucifix looming above him. The figure nailed to it seemed to tilt its head in his direction. Around him, he saw shattered gray pews and broken stained glass windows.
"Where is this…? I must be half-asleep."
Lucas shut his eyes again, intending to drift back to sleep.
Da-da-da-da!!
Da-da-da!!
Suddenly, bursts of noise rang out.
Lucas' eyes snapped open, scanning around in shock.
"That sounds like… gunfire?!"
He had never heard real gunshots before, but from countless videos, the sound was unmistakable.
The shots grew closer. Lucas tried to get up and see what was happening, but his body refused to cooperate—he couldn't move a muscle, only kick his tiny legs.
He lifted his hand and froze. His arm was stubby, like that of a newborn. His little fingers were pitifully small.
"Ah—yaa—aaah!"
He tried to shout, but only babyish babbling came out.
"No way… I transmigrated?!"
At last, the truth hit him. This wasn't a dream. He had really crossed over—and into the body of a baby.
Turning his head with effort, he spotted a frail woman lying beside him, seemingly asleep. But the needle marks on her arm told the story—she was a seasoned addict.
Lucas' heart sank. Others who transmigrate either end up as heirs of noble families, descendants of royalty, or at least in middle-class homes. But him? He'd landed in a junkie's household. Worse, he didn't even know if this woman was alive or dead.
"Seriously, could anyone's luck be worse than mine?!"
Tears welled in his eyes.
"All I did was drink a few extra bottles! Did I deserve this?!"
He looked up at the crucifix overhead, glaring at the nailed figure.
Almost as if the nailed man pitied him, footsteps rapidly approached from outside.
Lucas used all his strength to cry, hoping to draw attention. But he was too weak—even his wails were feeble.
Thankfully, the footsteps drew closer, as if guided by his cries.
"Chief, there's movement here."
A cop stepped in with his gun raised. He spotted the lifeless woman immediately.
George Stacy followed in, and that was when he saw Lucas lying beside her.
Exhausted from crying, Lucas squeezed his eyes shut and fell asleep.
George picked him up. The baby was alarmingly thin and malnourished, far smaller than George's own infant daughter.
"Chief, look at this."
Another officer pulled a crumpled paper from the woman's belongings.
It was a shabby birth certificate from a back-alley clinic.
"Carl Norman…" George read aloud.
---
When Lucas opened his eyes again, he was in a clean, tidy room. Sunlight poured through the window, curtains tied neatly to the sides, and the faint fragrance of jasmine filled the air.
Turning his head, he spotted another baby about his size sleeping soundly beside him.
The door creaked open. A blonde woman with blue eyes stepped inside, her mature aura captivating Lucas instantly.
She was in her thirties, with fair skin flushed with a healthy glow. When she saw him awake, she quickly came over and gently picked him up.
"Little Carl, you're awake. Let Mommy check if you need a diaper change."
She began undoing his diaper.
Lucas panicked. Who the hell are you?! You show up and start pulling off my pants?! You pervert!
He squirmed wildly, crying at the top of his lungs.
His cries woke the baby next to him, who immediately wailed even louder than Lucas.
That shut Lucas up. He stared at the noisy infant in disbelief.
The woman sighed helplessly. She quickly changed Lucas' diaper, then scooped up the other baby. With a soft lullaby, she calmed the little girl, who blinked her big eyes at Lucas curiously.
"Gwen, look at your baby brother. Isn't he just as cute as you?"
The woman smiled.
"Brother? Excuse me, I'm way older than this brat!"
Lucas protested, but only babbles came out.
Just then, the door opened again. George Stacy walked in, papers in hand.
"The adoption's finalized. From now on, this little one is officially part of the Stacy family."
Though George and his wife had adopted him, his surname remained Norman. They hadn't changed it to Stacy.
Listening to them, and remembering the woman had called the baby "Gwen," Lucas' mind went blank.
Wait a sec. Gwen Stacy?
Holy crap, I've transmigrated into Marvel!!!
A giant red "DANGER" sign flashed in his head. Marvel's New York—crime everywhere, superpowered battles on every street corner. And he was just a regular, powerless human? That was practically a death sentence.
Worse still, this was the epicenter of all chaos: New York City.
But soon, Lucas calmed himself. Gwen was still a baby. According to the timeline, the real chaos hadn't begun yet. He had at least a decade to prepare. If he could grow stronger and eventually move the whole Stacy family to China, he might just survive.
"I wonder if she'll become Spider-Woman in the future… If so, maybe Peter Parker won't even matter."
He glanced at baby Gwen, who stared back at him with wide, curious eyes.
