Marvel: Alchemist

Chapter 2: Foundations of Power

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February 2, 1947 – Chinatown, New York

I pulled my coat tighter around me, bracing against the winter wind that sliced through the narrow alleyways of Chinatown. It had been nearly a month since I was thrown into this world, and in that time, I had secured the basics: shelter, money, and a name. But survival wasn't enough. Not in a place like this. If I wanted to thrive, I needed power.

The Grind Begins

Every night, I pushed my abilities further. In the dim glow of my rented room, I etched transmutation circles onto scrap metal, forcing the material to shift and change at my command. My hands ached from repeated reinforcement exercises, my body tingling with the raw energy I was channeling. I had learned to manipulate the structure of objects, to harden them beyond their natural durability, to shift their form as I willed.

Jackie Wu, my first recruit, had once stumbled upon one of my late-night experiments.

"What the hell was that?" he had asked, eyes wide as he stared at the reinforced wooden plank I had just tested by slamming a knife against it—only for the knife to snap.

I merely smiled. "A trick of the trade."

But Jackie wasn't stupid. He knew power when he saw it, and his respect for me only grew from that moment on.

My proficiency panel updated steadily:

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[Proficiency Panel Update]

Alchemy Proficiency: 32% (Level: Novice)

Transmutation: 26% (Level: Novice)

Reinforcement: 21% (Level: Novice)

Creation: 15% (Level: Initial)

Wealth: $1,500 (Steady income from trades and protection services)

Property: Small rented room in Chinatown

Physical Condition: Improved

Status: Focused

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My body felt stronger with each day. Reinforcement training wasn't just about making objects tougher—I was doing the same to myself, hardening my muscles and reinforcing my bones. It was slow, but the results were undeniable.

Acquiring Wealth

Gold transmutation was tempting, but even I knew that flooding the market with gold was a surefire way to attract unwanted attention. Instead, I took a different approach.

"You sure about this?" David Chen asked, rubbing his thick hands together as he watched me work on a set of knives. "I mean, it's just metal, right?"

"Not just metal," I corrected, focusing on the cheap blades I had bought in bulk. "Reinforced. Sharper, tougher, more reliable." I ran a thumb along the edge of the nearest one. It gleamed under the single lightbulb hanging above us. "These aren't just knives any more."

The merchants I sold them to agreed. Word spread quickly, and soon, I had a steady stream of buyers willing to pay top dollar for my "enhanced" goods. From cutlery to tools, even minor repairs on broken machinery—alchemy made me indispensable.

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February 15, 1947 – Gathering Followers

Chinatown wasn't safe for lone wolves. If I wanted to survive, I needed people. The right people.

Jackie Wu was my first recruit. A seventeen-year-old pickpocket with a quick tongue and quicker hands. Then came David Chen, a former dock worker whose fists were like iron. Slowly, I built a crew of misfits, young men who had no prospects but plenty of ambition. I trained them not just in fighting but in discipline, in survival.

One night, as we gathered in my rented room, I laid out my vision.

"The gangs in Chinatown? They don't care about the people. They exploit them. They take, but never give back." I let my words settle in the dimly lit space. "We're going to be different. We protect our own. We make our own rules. And in return, the people will support us."

David cracked his knuckles. "Sounds good to me. Sick of working for scumbags anyway."

Jackie grinned. "Long as we get paid, I'm in."

And just like that, the foundation of my organization was laid.

Securing Territory

At first, the existing gangs ignored us. We were too small, too new. But when we started clearing out drug peddlers and chasing off loan sharks who preyed on the weak, they took notice.

One evening, as I walked down a quiet street, a group of gangsters blocked my path.

"You're making a lot of noise," their leader, a man with a scar running down his cheek, said. "That's a problem."

I tilted my head, unbothered. "Then maybe you should listen."

Scarface didn't like that. He lunged, a blade flashing under the streetlamp. I barely needed to react—my body, strengthened by reinforcement, moved instinctively. I sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and twisted. A sickening crack echoed through the alley as he crumpled to his knees, screaming.

His men hesitated. They had expected an easy target. Instead, they got me.

"Go back to your bosses," I said, voice even. "Tell them Chinatown isn't theirs anymore."

Word spread. The name Golden Dragon Society began to take root in the streets. Business owners started recognizing us, slipping small payments our way for protection—not out of fear, but trust.

My panel updated again:

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[Proficiency Panel Update]

Alchemy Proficiency: 45% (Level: Novice)

Transmutation: 38% (Level: Novice)

Reinforcement: 30% (Level: Novice)

Creation: 22% (Level: Novice)

Wealth: $5,000 (Profits from alchemical trades and protection services)

Property: Rented safe house and underground storage in Chinatown

Physical Condition: Enhanced

Status: Cautious

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I knew the other gangs wouldn't tolerate me forever. But by the time they moved, it would be too late to stop me.

I was no longer just surviving. I was building an empire.

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To be continued...