Beyond Omega? Prove it then! Chapter 2: Fix It!!!

Still unedited.

Due to popular demand...here's chapter 2.

But I can't write this story guys. Not now.

(Izo's P.O.V)

Oookay. I might have overdone it a little. Just a bit.

The cafeteria is now a grand banquet hall with vaulted stone ceilings and tapestries depicting battles, I don’t recognize.

The echoes of clattering armor and the faint electric hum of magic fill the chamber.

Kids I've known since Junior High now carry staves, wands and all sorts of fantasy weapons. It's like a fantasy themed Comic-con.

Ned stares at his holy sword, its blade shimmering with golden light I’d accidentally baked into it, while Peter grips his crossbow like it’s the only thing keeping him anchored to reality.

Outside the arched windows, in what is supposed to be the New York skyline, Gryphons, Wyverns and is that a fucking Phoenix? soar over forests that claw at the horizon.

The sky is also tinged an unnatural violet color. Okay, I don't remember modifying that.

Ned’s voice cracks. “Dude. 'Dragons.'”

"Wyverns actually..." I correct absentmindedly, caught between wonder at my power and fear all the same.

Peter glares at me, his eyes wild. “Fix. This.”

“I told you I could—”

“Prove it? Yeah, we’re past that!” Peter snaps. “Undo it. Now.”

Before I can argue, the ground shudders with a guttural roar that shakes the castle walls, rattling the iron chandeliers overhead.

Ned stumbles into the table, armor clanking. Peter nocks an arrow, his hands steady despite the panic in his eyes.

“What the hell was that?” Ned yelps.

I'd like to know as well...

The floor explodes.

Stone and dirt spray the room as mole men claw their way out of the earth, their beady eyes glowing like embers.

"Sssccrraaaaassghhhj!!!!"

They screech, a sound that drills into my skull and charge at everyone. The students panic and pandemonium hits.

Leading them is a Wyvern the size of a pickup truck, its scales molten green, smoke curling from its nostrils.

Its roar sends a fireball tearing across the room, targeting the popular kids table.

I could make a case as to why they should burn but this is my fault. So I modify the fireball's flight path. It misses them and incinerates a tapestry of some saintly knight.

The Wyvern turns our way, liquid fire dripping off it's maw.

“Izo!” Peter fires an arrow. It ricochets off its lizard like hide. “Do something!”

Fuck. This wasn't in the cards.

My power surges—a hot, liquid feeling in my veins.

I slap a hand on Peter’s quiver, Devaluing the arrowheads’ bluntness and Enhancing their sharpness to vibranium levels.

Ned’s sword flares gold as I tweak its edge to molecular precision.

“Ned, clear the pests! Peter, aim at the Wyvern's eyes! Thats the weak point!” I bark, modifying the space around everyone to make sure the monsters miss.

"Hold on Liz I'm coming to save that beautiful face!"

Ned charges at a girl's table with a roar, swinging his sword in a wild arc.

Mole men collapse like cornstalks, their claws shattering against his blade. He's too fast, too strong and unexpectedly skilled. Not to mention the armor seems to protect him from harm.

Peter fires again—this time, the arrow accurately punches through the lizard’s scales, burying itself in its eye.

The approaching beast bellows, crashing through tables in throes of pain. Its thrashing tail smashes a marble pillar to rubble. I break the debris down into dust before it call fall on us.

The Wyvern opens it's mouth and releases a funnel of red flame from its throat.

Devalue. Devalue. Devalue.

The flames sputter, dying to a wisp of smoke. Next I focus on its body.

Devalue. Devalue. Devalue.

The Wyvern collapses, it's form deflates into the Spiderman villain the Lizard. And before long, a one armed man in a tattered scientists coat is asleep on the floor.

The Mole Men see this and escape through the tunnels they came through. Which close on their own as the banquet hall repairs itself down to a bowl of soup.

Silence. The other students make a point to ignore us, or at least pretend to. They try to hide it but I notice the subtle glances that tell me something's up.

Ned pants, his sword still glowing. “Holy shit. That just happened.”

Peter’s crossbow clatters to the floor. “This… this isn’t a dream. You broke the world.”

Before I can defend myself, heavy footsteps thunder down the hall.

A squad of knights in silver armor marches in, led by a man with a dark cape, an eyepatch and a glare that could melt steel. Nick Fury.

Shit. I know the guy. He's the director of Shield and the creator of the Avenger's program. Also, my mom's boss.

I expect a reprimand or getting arrested but instead they stop. Kneel. To me.

“Your Majesty,” Fury says, voice gravelly. “The realm thanks you. But the Demon Lord’s legions gather. We need your power.”

Peter chokes. “Majesty?!”

Ned’s sword slips from his hand. “Dude. You made yourself king? What the hell??!”

“No! I mean—I didn’t mean to—”

Fury cuts me off. “Intent doesn’t matter. You are King Isaac Hill, the sole authority and Chief Executive Command of the Shield Knights. You rewrote reality and restored Eternia's glory. The world sees you as its ruler. Its 'savior'.”

My bamboozlement, shock, disbelief and raw unfiltered shcmeckledorf is palpable.

Mom will go nuclear if she finds out I accidentally made myself her boss's boss. As the king, can I grant myself the presidential pardon?

Peter pulls me back to the moment with an arm grab. "Izo, fix this. Now.”

"Y-yeah..."

I close my eyes, reaching for the threads of the world I’d tangled—dragons, magic, dark elves in Cape Verde- oh man. I pull.

Nothing.

Harder.

A headache spikes behind my eyes. The threads resist, knotted and seared into the fabric of existence. Like pulling strings from a tightly woven clothe.

Overmodify, my Beyond Omega power fails.

“It’s… stuck,” I gasp.

“Fix it!!!” Peter snarls.

“I’m trying!”

The air ripples. A golden portal spins open, and out steps a man in a crimson cloak, his goatee impeccably trimmed.

Dr. Strange—but not the one from YouTube documentaries.

“Dr. Strange?” Peter blurts out, his voice a mix of relief and confusion.

“Not exactly,” the man says, his voice calm but carrying an edge of authority. “I am Stephen Strange, Imperial Class Mage and Principal of the Royal Magic Academy. And you, young king, have quite the mess on your hands."

Strange spares a glance at the Shield Knights. "Sir Nicholas.”

Fury rises to his feet, his expression darkening. “Strange,” he growls, his voice dripping with disdain. “What are you doing here?”

Strange ignores him, his piercing gaze fixed on me. “You’ve rewritten the fabric of reality, young king. A feat few could accomplish. But magic has rules, consequences. You cannot simply undo what you’ve done.”

Peter steps forward, his voice desperate. “But he has to! This isn’t our world. We don’t belong here. You have to help us fix this.”

Strange turns to Peter, his expression softening slightly. “I understand your distress, Archer. But the truth is, there is no easy fix. The magic his Majesty has unleashed is now woven into the very fabric of this world. To undo it would be to unravel the world itself. The consequences would be catastrophic.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice trembling.

Maybe I should have listened to the professor.

Strange sighs, his hands clasped behind his back as he begins to pace. “Imagine a dam holding back a vast reservoir of water. You’ve opened the floodgates, and the water—the magic—has flowed into this world. To undo your changes would be to destroy the dam entirely. The magic would flood back into your former world, bringing with it the demons, the dragons, and all the chaos you’ve created here. Your world would be overrun, and countless lives would be lost.”

Peter’s face falls, his shoulders slumping. “So… there’s no way to go back?”

“Not without dire consequences,” Strange says, his tone final. “The only way to restore balance is to fulfill the purpose of this world’s existence. You must defeat the Demon Lord and his Generals. Only then can the magic be contained, and the world returned to its original state.”

Ned, who’s been silent up until now, speaks up. “Wait, so we have to go on some kind of epic quest? Like, fight monsters and save the world?”

Strange nods. “Precisely. The Demon Lord is the embodiment of the chaos you’ve unleashed. The heart of this reality, so to speak. Defeat him, and the world will heed your authority Young King. Fail, and the chaos will consume everything.

Damn. I royally screwed up didn't I? No pun intended.

Peter looks at me, his expression a mix of anger and resignation. “This is your mess, Izo. You got us into this. You’d better get us out.”

I swallow hard, the weight of their expectations pressing down on me. “I… I will. I promise. We’ll defeat the Demon Lord, and I’ll fix this. I’ll make everything right.”

Strange steps forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Then your journey begins now, young king. The fate of two worlds rests in your hands. Do not take this responsibility lightly.”

Sir Nicholas Fury steps forward, his one eye glaring at Strange. “We don’t need your magic tricks, Strange. The Shield Knights will handle this.”

Strange smirks, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, Nicholas. Still as stubborn and willful as ever. Alas, this is not a battle that can be won with spies wielding swords and shields. Nor by Imperial mages. This quest requires a party of heroes. The Archer, The Knight, The King and the Priestess. It's their destiny, so says the only Imperial class Mage in existence.”

Fury scowls but says nothing, his jaw clenched tight.

Peter drops to a seat with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Great. So we’re stuck in a fantasy world, we have to fight a Demon Lord, and we’ve got magic and knights and… whatever this is.” He gestures vaguely at the banquet hall. “I just wanted to finish my lunch.”

Ned claps him on the back, a grin spreading across his face. “Cheer up, Pete. This is going to be awesome. We’re like… the Fellowship of the Ring or something. And I’m totally the Aragorn of this group.”

Peter groans, burying his face in his hands. “I hate this. I hate all of this.”

I look around at my friends, at the knights, at Strange, and at the grand hall that used to be our school cafeteria.

This is my mess. My responsibility. And no matter how impossible it seems, I have to fix it.

Overmodify may not work on reversing my actions but it still makes me the most powerful being in reality.

“Alright,” I say, squaring my shoulders. “Let’s do this. We’ve got a Priestess to find and a Demon Lord to defeat.”

Strange nods, a faint smile on his lips. “Then let the quest begin. May the stars guide your path to Latveria, the realm of the greatest enemy of man, the Demon Lord, Victor Von Doom.”

Oh fuck.