Kamen Rider In The Marvel World

Noah stood frozen, his mind racing as his body trembled in shock. His chest, still soaked with blood, felt strangely numb, like a distant memory of pain. The blood loss was alarming, but he wasn't dead. He should have been. His hand instinctively pressed against the wound, but as his fingers met the torn fabric of his shirt, something extraordinary happened.

A dark red substance, almost like blood but thicker, surged from the wound in a rapid, unnatural flow. The substance filled the gap in an instant, sealing the wound with an impossible speed. In the blink of an eye, the gaping tear in his chest vanished, leaving only a faint trace of sticky residue. There was no healing process, no painful recovery—just an abrupt disappearance of the injury.

Noah stumbled back, feeling as though he were caught in a dream, his thoughts clouded with disbelief. He touched his chest again, confirming that the wound had truly vanished. No scar, no injury, just smooth skin where there had been a violent wound seconds ago. He had witnessed it with his own eyes, yet his mind couldn't accept it. What kind of impossible power was this?

"This isn't real," Noah muttered under his breath, unable to comprehend the bizarre phenomenon. His thoughts scrambled for an explanation, anything that could make sense of it. But the most logical conclusion—transmigration—seemed almost absurd. Still, the impossible had just occurred in front of him.

Noah couldn't stop himself from examining his chest repeatedly. Was it truly healed? If this was some strange form of dream or fantasy, could he accept it? He sighed, feeling a heavy weight in his chest. Whatever this was, it was beyond him for now. He had no choice but to move forward.

Reaching into his pocket, he felt the cool metal of something sharp pressing against his fingers. He pulled out the object, his breath catching in his throat as he saw it more clearly. It was an unusual metallic item, silver and sleek, with strange markings engraved along its frame. The object resembled a handheld device, compact and intricate. The surface gleamed with an almost unnatural light, and the design reminded him of something he'd seen before—perhaps in some obscure science fiction show or an old comic book.

"No... this can't be real," Noah whispered to himself, his pulse quickening. He remembered it now. This was a Driver from a show he had watched years ago. It was supposed to be a transformation device, a relic of a fantasy world. But here it was, in his hand, undeniably real.

He could hardly believe it, but the symbols on the driver's surface seemed to glow with an internal light, pulsing like the beating of a heart. The red hue bled across the metal, casting an eerie glow in the night air. The mechanism shifted and whirred, its outer frame sliding open to reveal a hidden slot. In the blink of an eye, two cards appeared inside, as if summoned by some unseen force.

"This… can't be happening." His voice faltered as he held the driver and the cards, trying to make sense of what was going on.

One of the cards was simple, made of durable plastic, and emblazoned with the words "NEW YORK STATE" at the top. Beneath it was a photograph—a perfect match for Noah's reflection in the window just moments ago—along with a name: *Gregor Russoff*. The date of birth listed was July 7, 1994, and the card's contents detailed things he had never personally filled out: eye color, height, weight, and various other items he had no knowledge of.

The second card, however, was something entirely different. It was blue, with intricate designs carved into its surface. The material felt different from anything he had touched before, almost like a hard paper, but durable enough to withstand time. The number listed on the card seemed to belong to someone else entirely—*Gregor Russoff*—and beneath that was a small handwritten signature, which looked like a crude attempt at signing English, a name Noah didn't recognize but somehow felt familiar to him.

As he looked up from the cards, Noah's mind raced, his thoughts tangling with the confusion of his new identity. *Gregor Russoff*. Was that his name now? Why did everything feel so real? His hands trembled as he examined the cards again, but he was certain of one thing: he was no longer Noah. He was someone else, someone with no memory of his past life.

"But… how am I reading this?" Noah mumbled, his eyes flicking from the card to the street signs, the billboards, and the neon lights. Everything around him was in English, and yet he could understand it all. His command of the language had never been this fluent before. It didn't make sense. He'd struggled with English in school, barely able to pass his classes. And yet now, it was as if the language had simply *clicked* in his mind.

Was this part of the transmigration? Was he not only in a new body, but in a new reality entirely? His thoughts shifted, spinning into a whirlwind of possibility. Was this just the first of many changes to come? He had no answers. But whatever had happened, he wasn't the same person anymore. He had a new identity, new abilities, and a strange new device that might be the key to understanding it all.

As Noah walked away from the empty street corner, he couldn't shake the feeling that his journey had only just begun. He wasn't sure where he was headed, or even what had caused this inexplicable transformation, but there was one thing he knew for sure: he wasn't alone in this new world. And if this was a game, he intended to play it to the fullest.

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