Chapter 1: Reboot
The sky above Manhattan groaned under a heavy quilt of storm clouds, thick and unmoving. Streetlights flickered as if unsure of their own presence, casting long, skeletal shadows across rain-slicked sidewalks. War propaganda posters peeled from brick walls, their promises of glory barely hiding the fear in the air. Somewhere far above, the sharp scream of sirens pierced the gloom — a reminder that even oceans away from the front lines, the world was at war.
Victor von Doom opened his eyes.
His breathing was slow, controlled — not panicked, but distant. Cold mist swirled in from the harbor, and it felt like his lungs were inhaling a new world.
A different world.
He wasn't in Latveria anymore.
He wasn't even on his Earth.
> [Welcome to the Dominion System]
[User Profile: Victor von Doom]
[Status: Transmigrated — Dimensional Anchor Unstable]
[Initializing Core Sync… 7%]
The interface hovered in his vision, translucent, responsive to thought. He could feel it — not just as data, but as presence, like a living machine lodged inside the very thread of his soul. This wasn't magic. Nor was it science.
It was both.
The System.
> [Choose Primary Template to Establish Anchor:]
Earth-928: Technopath Overlord
Earth-982: Latverian King
Earth-TRN817: Sorcerer Supreme (Prototype Sync: 17%)
Earth-3001: Cybernetic Rebel
Earth-2149: Doom of the Undying
Victor paused.
He had spent his life mastering both science and sorcery. He had stood toe-to-toe with Reed Richards, with Mephisto, with gods and men alike.
But this?
This was different.
This wasn't a power he discovered.
This was power that had found him.
---
Rain pelted the pavement in steady rhythm as he stepped into a narrow alley. The trench coat he wore — old, borrowed, smelling of rust and cigarettes — clung to him like a forgotten skin. His body was younger. Leaner. No scars. No armor. No mask.
This is not regression, he thought. This is reconstruction.
Memories that weren't his began to surface — fragments from this world's version of him. A runaway from Europe. A boy who lost everything in a fire. A genius with nowhere to place his fury.
Victor von Doom, scrubbed clean of titles.
But not of ambition.
Never of ambition.
---
Inside an abandoned warehouse near the docks, lit only by the ghostly glow of broken fluorescent bulbs, he activated the system again.
> [Dominion Protocol: Initiated]
[Power Tree: Hybrid-Class Sync Possible]
— Sorcery Tier 1: Ember Weave (Learned)
— Engineering Tier 1: Arc-Pulse Nodes (Blueprint Locked)
— Alchemy Tier 0: Not Unlocked
[Perk Available: "I Am Doom"]
— Passive: +20% Intimidation
— Effect: Slows fear-based debuffs and boosts mental resistance when outnumbered
A slow smile crept to his lips.
The System didn't just want him to survive. It wanted him to rule.
---
Somewhere outside, a radio barked in a diner window:
> "All able-bodied men are encouraged to enlist! Fight the Axis! Fight for Freedom!"
Victor exhaled, watching his breath turn to mist.
"Let the fools chase flags," he said quietly.
"I will chase eternity."
And in the deep recesses of his mind, he could already feel the other Dooms — the ones the system offered — lurking, whispering. Each a version of himself. Each with their own victories. Each with their own downfalls.
He would not copy them.
He would consume them.
This world would remember the name Doom — not as a villain, not as a hero.
But as a destiny.