The last guardian: Rise of Ethan Wilson

The night before had tasted like blood and gravel. Ethan could still feel the bruises across his ribs, the sting of failure lingering beneath his skin like a second heartbeat. His breath came in shallow drags as he crouched behind the orphanage, hiding in the alley where no one would see him.

The system's voice had returned at midnight sharp.

[LEVEL 20 REACHED]

New Abilities Unlocked: Portal Casting | Flight Initiation

System Note: Failure in spatial alignment may result in partial or full-body disintegration. Try not to f*ck it up.

Ethan stared at the glowing interface floating in front of him like a divine curse.

He whispered, dryly, "No pressure."

No one would believe it. A system from the stars. A leveling interface that didn't go away. A punishment labyrinth full of monsters born from screams.

But Ethan believed. The pain was real. The weight of the power in his bones—real. The silence of his room every night, haunted by the fire that took his parents—too real.

"Alright," Ethan muttered, stepping into the abandoned warehouse two blocks away. "Let's see what this thing can do."

He raised his hand and visualized a place—a rooftop he'd seen downtown. It flickered into view in his mind, blurry around the edges but bright with neon.

The portal ring formed in front of him.

It vibrated violently.

His vision blurred. Pressure built in his skull.

Then—

BOOM.

The portal exploded. Ethan was flung backward like a rag doll, skidding across concrete, head ringing.

He coughed out dust. And possibly part of his tooth.

[WARNING: Incorrect Portal Coordinates. Try again, dumbass.]

The system never actually cursed, but it sounded like it did.

Ethan groaned and spat blood. "This is fine. This is totally fine."

He tried again.

And again.

And again.

By the twelfth attempt, his arms were shaking from magical blowback. Sweat poured down his back, and he couldn't tell if the ringing in his ears was from exhaustion or brain damage.

But by the fifteenth attempt, something clicked.

A thin gold ring opened in mid-air. For the first time—it held steady.

Inside, he saw the top of Crossfield Tower.

Ethan's eyes widened.

He stepped forward—

—and fell through.

He landed in a giant water fountain. On top of a couple.

"OH MY GOD!" the woman screamed, slapping him with her purse.

The man started swinging.

"DUDE!" Ethan gasped, dodging. "I was aiming for the roof!"

Security chased him for three blocks.

That night, back at the orphanage rooftop, Ethan attempted his second ability: flight.

[Flight Initiation Protocol: Focus celestial energy beneath your core. Stabilize momentum. Begin vertical launch.]

He took a deep breath and gathered the pulsing energy coiling in his chest.

"Okay... Fly, not die. Fly, not die."

He jumped.

For a second, he hovered.

Then shot up 80 feet like a missile.

For one glorious moment, the wind screamed past his ears, and he felt the world fall away.

Then gravity snatched him like a jealous lover.

"SHIIII—"

He crashed into a tree.

Branches snapped like bones. He slammed into the ground with a wheeze that sounded like a dying goat.

[Progress: 3%]

He lay there for several long seconds, blinking at the stars.

"…I hate this system."

 Elsewhere – Multiversal Ripples Detected (Rick & Morty, MCU)

 Dimension C-137 – Rick's Garage

Morty chewed on quantum chips while Rick tinkered with a glowing handheld monitor.

Suddenly—BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The screen flashed:

UNSTABLE PORTAL SIGNATURE DETECTED

Origin: Earth-214X (Perfect Universe)

Rick froze.

Then muttered, "Son of a glitched-out toaster…"

Morty blinked. "Uh, Rick? What's wrong?"

Rick shoved parts into a dimension-tracker gun. "Some dipsh*t just punched a hole in the multiverse without protection. That's like dry-humping the timeline with a chainsaw."

Morty grimaced. "That sounds… unhealthy."

Rick grabbed his coat. "Grab your trauma meds, Morty. We're visiting the newest celestial fckup.*"

 Avengers Tower – MCU

Doctor Strange's hands glowed as he studied a rift hovering over the Sanctum.

Tony Stark leaned in, sipping from a mug labeled: I Told You So.

"Another magical pothole?" Tony asked.

Strange's voice was tight. "No. Something worse."

"Worse than a pissed-off purple alien with a jewelry fetish?"

Strange snapped the portal shut. "This is celestial tech. Ancient. And someone… bonded with it."

Steve Rogers frowned. "You mean—like a host?"

Strange nodded. "More like a guardian."

Back to Ethan's World

Ethan returned to his room, dragging one leg and clutching his ribs.

No one noticed. No one cared.

The kids in the orphanage thought he was crazy anyway. Always alone. Always quiet. Always coming back bruised.

He opened his closet and stared at the only photo he had: his parents, smiling beside him before the fire.

His voice trembled. "I miss you, Mom."

He collapsed onto his bed and buried his face in the pillow.

He didn't cry—not out loud.

But his shoulders shook.

The system appeared silently beside him.

"Would you like to postpone training for emotional recovery?"

Ethan looked up, eyes bloodshot.

"No."

He sat up and clenched his fists.

"I don't get to stop. Not now."

The sky above Ethan's orphanage cracked open like glass.

A swirling blue-green portal tore across the clouds, and out of it fell—

Rick Sanchez and Morty Smith.

They landed in a dumpster.

Rick climbed out, wiping green goop off his coat. "Nailed it."

Morty gagged. "Rick, this smells like space raccoon piss!"

"Shut up, Morty. We're here for the chosen dork."

Ethan stepped out of the building, wide-eyed.

"Who the hell are you?"

Rick raised a finger. "First: I'm a goddamn genius. Second: you just tore a cosmic sphincter open without permission. That's a war crime in six dimensions."

Morty waved awkwardly. "Hi! Uh—don't kill us. We're, like, tourists. But armed."

Rick scanned Ethan with a device. "Level 20. Celestial system active. Flight sh*t semi-functional. Emotional trauma: catastrophic."

Ethan blinked. "How do you know about the system?"

Rick pulled out a flask. "Because the last guy who bonded with one deleted a galaxy when he sneezed. So now I monitor this sh*t."

Ethan's voice was hoarse. "I didn't ask for this."

Rick stared at him for a moment.

Then shrugged. "No one does, kid. Heroism's like diarrhea. It comes when the universe screws you."

Ethan gave a half-laugh. It was ugly, tired, real.

Rick's eyes softened for just a moment. "You want to survive? Then stop crying and start upgrading."

Morty stepped forward. "W-We can help. I mean—Rick mostly, but… I've been through like 40 deaths."

Ethan glanced between them. "Then let's train."

Rick smirked.

Rick set up a temporary training chamber in an abandoned church.

"Alright, baby celestial," he said, tossing Ethan a pulsing orb, "This is a forging seed. Your first weapon comes from within. It's based on memory, trauma, and your innermost pain. So… good luck with that sh*t."

Ethan held it.

It pulsed—warm, painful.

Images rushed through his head.

The fire.

His mother screaming.

The orphanage.

The Void Labyrinth.

His own voice saying: "I'm not enough."

The orb exploded in his palm.

A blade formed in mid-air.

It was blackened steel with veins of gold. A hilt wrapped in scorched leather. The blade pulsed like a beating heart.

Rick whistled. "Nice. Murder sword from trauma. Classic."

Back at school, Natalie Longmen had been watching Ethan closely. He moved differently now. His steps were sharper. His eyes—darker. Focused.

One day, she followed him.

Saw him vanish into a shimmering crack behind a brick wall.

She didn't tell anyone.

But she whispered to herself, "Who are you, Ethan Wilson?"

And a strange feeling began to grow inside her chest.

One that felt like fate.