Multiversal Recruitment

Sighing as I looked at my state, I realized something and raised an eyebrow.

"Inventory?" I focused on it, causing a panel to open in front of me with multiple compartments for storing things.

"This... is really useful." I smiled to myself, touching the hidden sword on my back, making it vanish, then watched as a sword icon appeared on the panel, making me laugh heartily.

"Thank goodness. Hiding that thing was such a pain." I stretched back in the chair as my stomach growled again.

"How much longer—"

"Sir, sorry for the delay." The waitress approached with trays in hand, setting them on my table and serving me. Seeing the four dishes in front of me, I was practically drooling.

"I-I didn't know what you'd like, so I ordered one of each specialty. I hope you... like them..." Her voice grew quieter with each word as she watched, astonished, how I devoured the food at inhuman speeds, even choking at one point, slapping my chest, drinking water, and continuing to eat like it was slipping through my fingers.

"I-it seems you liked it..." she laughed nervously as she walked away, unable to stop glancing back at how I ate like I hadn't eaten in days—which wasn't far from the truth.

(A-All of this… It's delicious!)

Contrary to his intimidating appearance, inside, a chibi version of Salazar was crying with joy, tasting every dish like a starving Saiyan on his hungriest day.

(Finally, normal food… I don't even know how long it's been.)

His joy was immense after having eaten raw, rotten things, drunk blood and filthy water.

The simplest food from a humble restaurant made his mouth water. Everything before him felt like it had been made by the hands of a professional.

After devouring all the dishes and drinking water to wash them down, he sighed and, now renewed, raised his hand.

"Hey, pretty waitress! Bring me four more of the same!" He called out without shame, causing the waitress—who was serving other customers—to blush when she heard him.

"E-Eh? Ah! Y-Yes, right away, sir!" she nodded, flustered, quickly tending to the others so she could rush to the chefs.

Meanwhile, Salazar scratched his head, unsure of what just happened, and muttered to himself.

"Did I say it right?" He sighed and covered his face with his palm.

"Whatever," he shrugged and drank more water, enjoying the taste of something clean.

No longer dying of hunger, he patiently waited for the blushing waitress to return with more food, which he also devoured, though more calmly this time.

"That was delicious," he sighed contentedly, a satisfied smile on his face as he touched his full stomach—a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time, just like the absence of hunger pains.

Next to him, with a tray in hand, the shy waitress stood with her eyes downcast, trying to hide her blush.

"E-Excuse me... Should I bring the bill?"

"The bill? Oh, yes, of course."

"..."

The bill!?

On the outside he stayed calm, but inside he was sweating buckets, gripping his head.

(Idiot, I was so hungry I forgot about the money!)

---

Sighing in relief, he walked out of the restaurant, clutching his head in frustration.

"Good thing the starter kit came with some cash. Otherwise, I would've had to run and cause a scene."

He might've looked like a coward, but he didn't want to commit crimes here. Heroes with powers were everywhere, and all he had was the super soldier serum. He wasn't Captain America with all his military training and experience.

You could say he was the weakest super soldier in history.

He didn't know how to fight. He had no memory of ever using a weapon—let alone a sword.

Imagining himself in a fight was like handing a gun to a chimpanzee.

Sighing at his own weakness, he looked up and came across a shop, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

He looked at it, then checked his funds—not much. He glanced around and saw a man in an expensive suit, likely wealthy, with a quirk that enhanced his sense of smell. The man wrinkled his nose when he passed within five meters of a trash can.

That, and his huge nose, gave it away.

Salazar looked back at the shop, then turned toward the rich man, eyes shadowed, slipping his hands into his coat as he walked silently up behind him.

"Totally worth it..." he muttered seriously, then suddenly threw his arm over the man's shoulder like a long-lost friend.

"Man! Long time no see!" he said loudly with a grin. The man flinched and looked at him, confused.

"What? Who—" He froze mid-sentence when he felt the cold barrel of a gun press into his lower back. Salazar leaned toward his ear and whispered.

"I'll make it simple: you scream, you die. Sudden move, you die. Say something I don't like—dead. Do something weird and—?" He left it hanging for the man to finish.

"I-I die," the man whispered, eyes full of fear.

"Exactly. Glad we're on the same page. Happy to call you a friend." Salazar smiled, but for the man, it was anything but comforting.

"Now play along..." Salazar stepped back, grinning like they were old pals.

"Great to see you, buddy! Hey, I know it's been a while, but... could you lend me some cash? I'm kinda short right now, I swear I'll pay you back." He smiled nervously, but under his coat, he showed the gun, making his message clear.

"O-Oh, good to see you too! W-Well... I don't have much right now..." The man looked around, likely searching for a hero—or a way to escape.

"Whatever you've got works." Salazar dropped the charm and stared him down.

With trembling hands, the man pulled out his wallet, taking out all his bills and handing them over.

"H-Here you go."

"Wow, thanks, man. I really appreciate it. Hey, why don't we catch up? Come with me." He wrapped an arm around his neck, this time tighter, scaring the man even more as he led him to a more secluded spot.

"I-I gave you what you wanted... What else do you want?" the man whispered, terrified, as they reached a quiet alley.

"Relax. Just precaution." Salazar whispered back, glancing around. Then, with a quick move, he put the man in a rear naked choke. The man struggled, hitting his arms, but it was useless—Salazar's strength was clearly superior. Slowly, the man went unconscious.

Salazar set him against the wall, placing an empty beer bottle from the trash in his hand, loosening his tie and messing up his hair.

"There. Done." He walked away, leaving the poor guy looking like a drunk.

"That should buy me some time. Now then..." He returned to the shop that had made him go through all this madness despite his plan to avoid trouble.

A tattoo parlor.

"I really don't want to see that damned mark for the rest of my life. Better now than later," he muttered as he entered.

An older man with a beard saw him and greeted him.

"Good afternoon. Need something?" he asked, straight to the point, as Salazar began taking off his upper clothes—surprising the man not because of his build, but because of all his scars.

"What—?"

"I'll pay 25% extra if you don't ask questions," Salazar said firmly, making the bearded man go silent as he studied him.

"Can you cover this?" he asked, turning around to show the brand burned into his back, leaving the man stunned. But remembering his earlier words, he sighed and examined it.

"I can. What design do you want?"

There was a brief silence.

"I guess... a tiger."

---

Hours passed. The tattoo artist worked in silence, making sure to completely cover the slave brand.

It was a job that took all day, finishing just as the sun began to set. They hadn't spoken—there was simply nothing to say.

"Done," the artist said, placing a protective sheet over the fresh tattoo.

"Don't let water touch it for 24 hours. That's what the wrap is for. I did my best." He led Salazar to a mirror with another placed behind so he could see his back.

Salazar remained silent, seeing how the brand that had condemned him was now invisible. He sighed.

(It's not like it's truly gone… but at least in this world, no one can call me a slave when they see my back.)

He nodded and carefully got dressed.

After agreeing on a price, he left the shop and watched the sunset.

"I've already wasted two days here… I better get to work quickly," he muttered, walking off.

While getting tattooed, he'd explored his system, learning how the shop and points worked. He also discovered the meaning behind the name and his reason for coming here.

Sitting in a nearby park, he crossed his arms and looked at the almost-empty playground, with only a few kids and their mothers around.

"It was obvious from the start. The name says it all—'Recruit.' Seems like this system was built for a pirate crew. And being a runaway slave... I doubt the Navy path is even an option." He deduced with closed eyes, arms crossed.

"Not that I ever considered that option, anyway."

No way would he work for those who bend over backwards to let the Celestial Dragons go unpunished for even the most atrocious crimes.

"But..." He sighed and rubbed his temple in frustration, realizing something.

"I can't force anyone. Which means I somehow have to convince someone to abandon their world—and everything they know—to follow a slave to another world."

That task alone was hard enough. Now add in a world full of heroes.

Everyone here is deeply rooted in the hero society. Even villains have their reasons for staying in their own world.

"No famous hero with wealth, power, or fame would follow me. A villain would probably kill me, thinking I'm just another idiot trying to recruit them into some organization."

"This... is going to be really hard..."

[Time Remaining: 99:34:45]