Marvel: The Foundation

Justin Hammer had been feeling rather nervous ever since he returned home from that mysterious auction. He had even gotten himself one of the final items, won it right out of the hand of Tony Stark himself.

Though it hadn't been easy, getting the money had proven to be a challenge. While he was good for the money, not everyone was a powerful drug lord. And most of their wealth was bound up in their companies rather than liquid assets.

The fact that Ricci had more then a cool Trillion just sitting around was shocking, yet given how long the old Ricci had been alive, it wasn't such a surprise that he had been able to collect such a sum.

Still, for someone like him it had taken a few days to collect the money, and he had to put up a few assets in collateral. Still, being able to steal it from Tony's hands made it worth it. now he just needed to figure out what the value of the book was.

Tony had clearly figured it out, and once he, too, cracked the code, he would be able to use the book to quickly make his money back.

 "Now, how to make you work." He muttered as she sat with the book on the table. He wasn't willing to try and allow anyone else to touch it, afraid that it would get stolen, no doubt someone from the auction would try.

"Alright, book," Hammer said, sighing in frustration as he opened the cover. "Let's see what secrets you're hiding." He wasn't sure what he expected—perhaps old diagrams or pages covered in cryptic runes—but instead, he found himself staring at clean, crisp pages filled with elegant handwriting. The opening page contained a title written in flowing cursive: "To the Dreamer."

Justin frowned. "The Dreamer?" He turned the page, and what followed appeared to be a dedication. The words seemed almost to shift under his gaze, and he rubbed his eyes before continuing.

He squinted at the writing as it described the power of a hero—a journey of bravery, peril, and adventure. It spoke as if addressing the reader directly, inviting them to take part in a 'grand quest.' It sounded almost… too immersive, like some kind of roleplaying experience.

Hammer frowned. "A quest? What is this, some kind of choose-your-own-adventure?" He flipped through the pages, hoping to find something that made more sense. The book's script seemed oddly soothing, and he felt his eyelids grow heavier as he read on, as though lulled by the rhythmic flow of the prose.

Justin's eyelids drooped. His head nodded forward slightly. He blinked and straightened, fighting off the sudden wave of drowsiness.

What was this book doing to him? He took a deep breath and turned another page, but the letters seemed to blur, shifting and moving, pulling him into the lines. His eyes grew heavy once more, and this time, he couldn't fight it. He slumped forward, his hand falling away from the book as his vision dimmed.

The world around him seemed to melt, his consciousness slipping away, only to be replaced by something else—a vivid, impossibly real vision. Suddenly, he was standing in an open field. The sky stretched out endlessly above him, and a breeze rustled through the grass.

He looked down at himself and found he was wearing armor—heavy, steel armor that glinted in the sunlight. A sword was strapped to his waist, and he felt a surge of strength, a power that he had never known.

Justin Hammer blinked, turning in a circle to take in his surroundings. He could hear birds in the distance, feel the warmth of the sun on his face, the weight of the armor on his shoulders. He took an experimental step forward and felt the ground beneath his boots, solid and real.

"What… where am I?" he whispered, his voice echoing as if in a vast, open space.

A figure appeared on the horizon—a silhouette approaching him. Justin squinted, watching as the figure drew nearer. It was a man, dressed in robes that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, and his face bore a warm, knowing smile.

"Welcome, brave traveler," the figure called. "Your adventure begins now."

Justin swallowed, his heart pounding in his chest. This… this wasn't just a book. It was something far more powerful. He didn't know what was happening, but a strange exhilaration filled him, mixed with an odd sense of dread. He wanted to wake up, to pull away from this strange dream—but at the same time, he wanted to know more. He wanted to be the hero.

The robed figure beckoned him forward, and Justin, driven by an inexplicable curiosity, began to follow.

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The journey was almost cliché, yet Justin felt an inexplicable thrill as he followed the robed figure through fields and over hills, each step feeling like an epic quest of old.

They passed through a dark forest, where shadows seemed to whisper in the night, and Justin found himself drawing his sword to ward off unseen threats. The sword felt right in his hand, like it belonged there—like he was meant for this.

The robed figure, whom Justin now thought of as his guide, led him to a small village nestled in the hills. The villagers greeted him warmly, their faces filled with hope. They spoke of a terrible dragon that had taken over their lands, demanding tribute and threatening their peaceful lives.

Justin could see the fear in their eyes, and for reasons he couldn't fully understand, he felt a surge of determination. He was going to help these people. He was going to be their hero.

The next morning, clad in shining armor provided by the grateful villagers, Justin set off towards the dragon's lair—a dark cavern set deep within a jagged mountain. The guide stayed behind, offering him only a cryptic smile and the words, "Remember, true courage lies in facing your fears." Justin scoffed, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in his stomach as he climbed the rocky path to the dragon's cave.

The confrontation with the dragon was nothing like he expected. The beast was enormous, its scales glinting like molten gold in the dim light of the cavern. It let out a roar that shook the very earth, and Justin felt his knees go weak. But then something strange happened—a voice echoed in his mind, reminding him of who he was. He wasn't just Justin Hammer, the industrialist constantly overshadowed by Tony Stark. Here, in this world, he was a hero.

With a shout, Justin charged, his sword held high. The battle was fierce—the dragon's fiery breath scorched the ground around him, and its tail lashed out like a whip. Justin fought with a strength he never knew he had, his every move instinctive, driven by something deep within him. He dodged, parried, and struck, his sword biting into the dragon's thick hide.

Finally, with a powerful thrust, Justin drove his sword into the dragon's chest. The beast let out a final, ear-splitting roar before collapsing, its body dissolving into golden light. Justin stood there, panting, his heart racing as he watched the light fade away. He had done it. He had slain the dragon.

As he returned to the village, the people cheered, their faces alight with joy. They crowned him their hero, and he was rewarded with riches beyond his wildest dreams.

The village elder, a kind old man with a long white beard, brought forth a beautiful young woman—the princess, he called her. She smiled at Justin, her eyes filled with admiration, and he felt a swell of pride. The elder spoke of a reward—half the kingdom, and the princess's hand in marriage.

Justin grinned, unable to suppress the feeling of triumph. This was everything he had ever wanted—recognition, power, admiration. He was the hero, the one everyone looked up to. He took the princess's hand, and the villagers erupted in cheers once more.

As the celebrations continued, Justin felt a strange pull, a sensation that something was shifting. The world around him seemed to waver, the colors bleeding together, the sounds growing distant. He tried to hold onto the moment—the feeling of being the hero—but it was slipping away, like sand through his fingers.

Suddenly, Justin's eyes snapped open. He was back in his study, slumped over the book, his head resting on the table. He blinked, disoriented, his heart still pounding from the intensity of the dream. The book lay open before him, the pages blank, as if nothing had ever been written there.

Justin sat up, rubbing his face. He could still feel the weight of the armor, the heat of the dragon's breath, the warmth of the princess's hand in his. It had all been so real. He looked down at the book, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

Whatever this was, whatever power this book held—he wanted more of it.