[SL in M] Ch: 1 [What could be worse than death?]

Synopsis: Jason Miller died and woke up in Diablo World/Trial World. He was given a choice. Survive and get a reward- a new life in Marvel World. So, a man who has nothing to lose accepted the deal.

The first 2 chapters will show the brief details of how he survived and how powerful he has become. Then it's Marvel.

AN: Unedited chapter. There might be some tiny mistakes.

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Jason Miller always thought death would be dramatic. A car crash, a sudden explosion, or maybe even saving someone in a heroic last stand. But no, his death was as mundane as his life. Jason wasn’t obese, but his body made it seem otherwise. A cruel concoction of genetics and a rare medical condition had plagued him since birth. His metabolism worked at half-speed, his joints ached as though he carried the weight of two men, and his heart... well, it was a ticking time bomb.

He was sitting alone in his small, poorly lit apartment, eating, when it happened. The food wasn’t anything special—just a greasy burger he’d ordered because he had nothing better to do. At first, he barely noticed the pain in his chest, brushing it off as just another strange ache. But when the second wave hit, stronger and more intense, his vision started to fade. The burger slipped from his hand and fell to the floor with a soft thud. The pain quickly spread, and before he could even understand what was going on, everything turned black.

That was it.

No fanfare. No final words. Just silence.

When Jason woke up, everything felt... off.

The first thing he noticed was the air—it was dense, hard to breathe, and smelled like rotten eggs. Everything around him was covered in a heavy, suffocating darkness. The ground under him was a pale, unhealthy gray, with cracks that glowed a faint red. Far away, he could hear faint screams, a chorus of pain that made him shudder.

“What’s going on?” he whispered, his voice sounding strange and warped as it echoed back at him. He looked down at his body, expecting to see the same overweight, slow figure he always disliked. But he was surprised to find he was thinner, his arms lean but unfamiliar. His legs, though wobbly, felt stronger than ever. But that feeling of relief didn’t last long.

A loud voice echoed from the emptiness, cold and strange.

“Jason Miller.”

Jason quickly looked up, his heart—or whatever was now keeping him alive—racing.

“Who... who’s there?” he asked, his voice shaking.

The darkness moved, turning into a spinning mix of shadows and fire. From the middle of it came a ghostly figure, its shape unclear, wrapped in twisting black strands. Its eyes—if you could call them that—glowed like two bright suns.

“You have died,” the voice declared, its tone neither cruel nor kind, but absolute. “Your life was... insignificant. A brief flicker in a universe that did not notice your existence.”

Jason felt a sudden rush of anger and hopelessness. “Yeah, thanks for bringing that up,” he said with a sharp tone. “What is this? A nightmare? Or, Hell?”

The figure chuckled, a sound that made Jason’s skin crawl. “Not quite. This is a... crossroads, of sorts. A place between death and something far worse.”

Jason swallowed hard. “Worse than death? Great. Just my luck.”

“You are being offered a choice,” the voice continued, ignoring his sarcasm. “A chance to escape oblivion. To be reborn... but not without trial.”

Jason frowned. “Reborn? What do you mean?”

The figure extended a hand, and suddenly the space around them changed. The darkness peeled away, replaced by a world Jason recognized instantly—a sprawling city with towering skyscrapers, bustling streets, and posters of superheroes.

“Is that... New York? Wait, is that—?” Jason’s eyes widened as he saw a streak of red and gold zoom through the sky. Iron Man.

The figure nodded. “This is the Marvel Universe. A place of infinite possibilities, of heroes and villains, gods and monsters. You may live there... if you earn it.”

Jason’s breath caught in his throat. “Live there? Like, with powers and everything?”

“Yes. But first, you must survive here.” The scene shifted again, and Jason found himself back in the ghastly, hellish landscape. “This is the Diablo World. A realm of darkness and death. Here, you will fight. You will grow. The longer you survive and the stronger you become, the greater your rewards will be in the Marvel Universe.”

Jason’s mind raced. “So, let me get this straight. I fight monsters here, level up or whatever, and then you’ll drop me into the Marvel Universe with superpowers?”

The figure inclined its head. “In essence, yes. But do not mistake this for mercy or generosity. Most who come here die within hours. Their souls consumed, their essence lost to the void. This is your one and only chance at redemption. Succeed, and you may rise to greatness. Fail, and you will know true suffering.”

Jason hesitated, the weight of the decision bearing down on him. It was insane. He had no combat skills, and no idea how to survive in a place like this. But the alternative? Eternal nothingness—or worse.

“What’s the catch?” he asked warily.

The figure’s burning eyes seemed to intensify. “The catch, as you call it, is that you begin with nothing. No weapons, no allies, no skills. Only your wits and will to survive. Do you accept?”

Jason’s throat felt tight. He looked around at the empty, lifeless land, at the glowing cracks that seemed full of evil, at the shadowy figures moving far away. This wasn’t a choice. It was like being sent to die. But then he remembered his old life—how lonely, how painful, how ordinary it was. What did he really have to lose?

“I’ll do it,” he said, his voice stronger than he thought it would be.

The figure held out its hand again, and a bright, glowing ball appeared in its palm. “It’s done. Your journey starts now. Survive, Jason Miller. Show what you’re made of, and a new world will be yours.”

Before Jason could say anything, the orb flew straight at him, going right through his chest. A sharp, burning pain spread through his body, and everything around him turned into confusion.

When Jason woke up, he was lying on his stomach in the dirt. The heavy, uncomfortable air was still there, and the distant screams were now louder and closer. He pushed himself up, groaning as his muscles ached in pain. The area around him was grim—a dry, empty land with sharp rocks and a few twisted trees here and there.

A soft buzzing sound caught his attention, and he turned to see a glowing mark on the ground where he had been lying. It flickered weakly before disappearing.

“Great. That doesn’t sound scary at all,” he said quietly. He carefully moved forward, looking around for any danger. His thoughts were full of questions. How was he supposed to fight? Did he have any special abilities yet?

Jason stumbled forward, his instincts kicking in as the ground beneath him began to tremble. Cracks spread outward in jagged lines, and from those fissures emerged skeletal figures. Ten of them. Their hollow eye sockets glowed with an unnatural green light, and their movements were jerky but determined. Each wielded a rusted weapon—blades, clubs, and even jagged bones sharpened into crude tools of death.

Jason’s pulse quickened. "This can't be real," he muttered, backing away. The skeletal horde clattered toward him, their bones creaking like old wood.

His foot hit something solid, and he glanced down. A sword—rusty and worn but undeniably a weapon—lay half-buried in the dirt. Without thinking, Jason snatched it up. The blade felt heavier than it looked, and his arms trembled as he held it.

The skeletons closed in.

"Alright, Jason. You’ve seen enough movies to know what to do," he told himself, though his shaking hands betrayed his fear.

The first skeleton lunged, raising its bony arm to strike. Jason swung the sword with all his strength. "DIE!" The blade connected with the skeleton’s neck, shattering bone and sending the skull flying. The rest of its body crumbled to the ground in a heap. "Fuck yeah!" But there was no time to celebrate.

Another skeleton was upon him, swinging a rusted axe. He barely ducked in time, the blade grazing the air above his head. "Damn!" He countered with a wild slash, cleaving the skeleton’s torso in two. But the horde came closer, their weapons flying faster than he could react. He tried to replicate what he saw in movies and played in games, but there was only so much he could do in a real scenario.

"Ahhrrrgggh!" Pain erupted in his arm as a skeletal claw raked across his skin, leaving deep gashes. Jason cried out, stumbling backward. "I can’t do this," he thought. But then, a spark of something unfamiliar ignited inside him—a raw, primal fury.

He roared, charging into the horde. The sword moved faster now, slicing through bone and scattering fragments in all directions. Jason wasn’t thinking anymore; he was fighting on instinct, each swing fueled by desperation. By the time the last skeleton fell, he was panting, blood dripping from multiple wounds. His body screamed in pain, and he dropped to one knee, using the sword for support.

"Hahahaha! Now, I look like one of those wounded MC from anime," He chuckled.

Then the ground trembled again.

Jason looked up to see another wave emerging—this time, twenty skeletons, larger and more menacing than before. Some wielded shields, while others carried longer, deadlier weapons. Jason’s heart sank. His body was broken, and his mind was fraying at the edges. How could he possibly survive this?

The skeletons began to surround him.

"Great. Just what I needed," Jason clenched his fists around the hilt of his sword. He wouldn’t give up—not here, not now. He forced himself to his feet, adrenaline overriding the pain. "If I’m going out, I’m taking as many of you with me as I can."

As the first skeleton charged, something incredible happened. A surge of energy erupted from within him, flooding his veins with power. The world seemed to slow, and his vision sharpened. A voice echoed in his mind, low and guttural.

[Class: Berserker Loaded. Rage fuels you. Pain strengthens you. Fight, and grow stronger.]

Jason didn’t have time to process the words, but he felt the power in his body. His wounds still hurt, but they no longer slowed him. His muscles burned with newfound strength, and the sword in his hand felt lighter, as if it were an extension of his arm.

The skeletons rushed him, but this time he met them head-on. His movements were faster, more precise. He cleaved through shields, shattered weapons, and tore apart bone with savage efficiency. Each strike seemed to feed his power, his rage growing with every enemy he felled.

Minutes felt like hours as the battle raged on. By the time the final skeleton collapsed, Jason was drenched in sweat and blood. He dropped to the ground, gasping for air. Around him lay a field of shattered bones, the remnants of his enemies.

The voice returned, softer now. "You have survived the trial. Skills unlocked."

A faint glow enveloped Jason, and he felt his injuries begin to close, his strength returning. Along with it came an innate understanding—he could now channel his rage to enhance his combat abilities, and his durability had increased.

He grinned weakly. "Not bad for a guy who couldn’t climb stairs without wheezing," he muttered, pulling himself to his feet.

But as the distant screams grew louder once more, he knew this was only the beginning.

"So, this is what the Diablo game feels like in real life," he sighed. "This is gonna be a long and painful journey. Good thing I don't have a lot of things left to lose."

***

Jason had lost track of time. Days had passed, maybe even weeks. Every waking moment was spent fighting for survival, and every night was spent healing from the day's wounds. It was a brutal cycle, and his body bore the scars. But it was working. He could feel his strength increasing and his body adapting. With every fight, he grew more comfortable with his powers.

He learned how his skills work and within a few years, he managed to level up all the skills in Berserker Class.

Right now, Jason was standing near a cliff, looking at the dark landscape below. There were no signs of life anywhere. No animals, no plants, and no hint of anything except emptiness. But the cries still haunted him, a constant reminder of what lurked beneath the surface.

He clenched his fists, feeling his anger rise. "I will survive." He simply jumped off the cliff, his body bracing for the impact.

The wind rushed past his face as he fell, the ground getting closer by the second.

[Booom!] He landed with a huge thud, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris. Before him were zombie hoards.

"Time to die, motherfuckers!" Jason charged at the zombies.

"Raaarrgh!" His scream echoed through the air as he plunged into the midst of the horde. He no longer needs a weapon, his fists are now strong enough to pulverize their bones. He moved like a whirlwind of death, his hands flashing out to crush skulls and shatter spines. He fought with a ferocity born of desperation and survival instinct.

The zombies fell in droves, their rotting bodies unable to withstand the onslaught. But Jason was relentless, his rage never wavering.

"Hahahahaha! C'mon, c'mon, is that all you've got?" He roared in excitement.

Suddenly, a powerful voice cut through the chaos. "Enough."

A figure appeared from the darkness, tall and imposing. Its body was made of twisting shadows, its eyes glowing red. The horde immediately stopped attacking, turning their attention to the newcomer. It was a necromancer.

However, Jason didn't care, "DEATH BLOW!" He rushed toward the enemy.

[Death Blow> Insta-kill]

He used a skill he'd mastered in a few years, his fist glowing with power as it crashed into the necromancer's chest. The blow shattered bone and muscle, completely obliterating the creature. It turned to ashes.

[Class: Necromancer> Available]

[Do you wish to change class?]

[Y/N]