"Good morning, Agent Dante. The Director is waiting for you on the thirty-first floor."
"Ah… uh, alright."
Dante Alighieri offered an awkward smile to the receptionist and silently wiped the sweat from his forehead.
As much as he didn't want to admit it, the truth was… he had transmigrated.
Still named Dante, sure—but now his identity was that of a field agent with the World Federal Bureau of Investigation's General Bureau.
And he wasn't just some desk jockey, either. His personal stats were bordering on superheroic. As one of the WFBI's elite agents, his physical abilities were pushing the limits of human performance. Proficient in over fifty martial arts styles, trained in the use of nearly every known weapon, and a specialist in tactics, interrogation, surveillance, linguistics, and criminal psychology—he had basically cleared every "Become a Super Spy" achievement on Hard Mode.
Thank the heavens the World Federal Bureau of Investigation was a publicly recognized organization in this world. Otherwise, Dante wouldn't have had the faintest clue where to clock in or how to pass the time.
But still… was it too much to hope he could maybe slack off a little?
From the memories in his brain and the info he'd skimmed on his phone, Dante was pretty sure this world was a parallel universe. One glaring giveaway: this place had something called the "World Federation"—the highest governing authority formed by most of the world's countries, split into permanent members and regular members.
Unlike the U.N. back in his original timeline, this Federation actually had teeth.
The World Federal Bureau of Investigation was its law enforcement arm. Each of the five permanent member nations had its own General Bureau, operating independently but also as part of a larger whole. That was how streamlined the WFBI's joint command really was.
"Tsk. Other people transmigrate and get inherited memories, overpowered abilities… Me? I get dropped into the world and told to show up to work. I already miss my days of lazing around. "
Dante sighed at his fate as just another cog in the corporate machine and stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the thirty-first floor.
Luckily, even if he was just another agent, with his physical prowess and skill set, he could live a pretty safe life—so long as he didn't go around asking to die.
The elevator's screen flickered to life, playing muted news updates.
Alone in the lift, Dante watched without much interest… until the entertainment segment came on—and it absolutely wrecked his mental prep like a ten-point-zero earthquake.
"Bruce Wayne of Gotham City, representing Wayne Enterprises, appeared at a charity gala hosted by the Gotham Natural Disaster Relief Fund. And tonight, Mr. Wayne was accompanied by—let me count—five gorgeous models and actresses from the fashion and Hollywood scene! My goodness, do none of them get jealous?"
"C'mon, Lesnar. If you had a conglomerate worth hundreds of billions, I'm pretty sure even a dozen girlfriends would live peacefully under the same roof."
Dante froze. Wait a second… who did the host just say?
A photo appeared on the screen. Five stunning women surrounded a sharply dressed man with a sculpted jawline, flawless features, and that unmistakable air of dangerous charisma.
Bruce Wayne.
The DC Universe?
He couldn't be that unlucky, right? The DC world was notorious for its darkness, and in a place like that, "peak human" was basically "cannon fodder."
And the news kept rolling.
"Speaking of Bruce Wayne, we can't ignore another legendary playboy—New York's very own prodigal son, Tony Stark. And who's his rumored girlfriend now? That's right—none other than Daily Planet reporter, Lois Lane!"
Two new photos popped up: one of Tony Stark looking as cocky as ever, the other of the sharp-featured, confident Lois Lane.
"Now, let's be careful—some of you out there need to check your facts before you get sued by Ms. Lane! Word is, Stark has been trying hard to court her, but she's not giving him the time of day! Guess money really doesn't work on everyone."
"Maybe not. But I bet half the women in New York just threw a celebration party. Anyway, moving on to our next segment—"
Dante stopped listening. The entertainment chatter was irrelevant now, his brain was still stuck spinning in error.
Bruce Wayne, Tony Stark… and Lois freaking Lane.
This wasn't just one comic universe. This was a full-on crossover universe.
If it were just characters from one franchise, he might've been able to figure out which world he'd landed in. But now, with two mega-universes colliding, his understanding of this reality had just been sucker-punched.
And honestly, there was no telling if it stopped at just two.
"Great," Dante muttered. "Now I gotta worry that one day, I'll step outside for some fresh air and see an orange-haired weirdo yelling "Getsuga Tenshou" off the rooftop across the street."
Ding.
The elevator chimed, doors sliding open as if on cue.
Thirty-first floor.
And just as he stepped out, a weird electronic voice rang in his mind.
[Congratulations on partially understanding the world setting. 'Strongest Agent System' is unlocking…]
[System unlocked!]
['Strongest Agent System': Solving WFBI-assigned cases or completing missions will grant a random ability from the mission target.]
Dante exhaled deeply and stepped out of the elevator without hesitation.
"Well, at least the entity that dropped me here wasn't a total sadist. I've got a System. It didn't just toss me naked into a universe where people throw trucks for fun."
But there was a catch—because if the case involved normal people, there probably weren't any useful powers to collect.
And if it involved famous comic book characters… well, let's just say his current power level probably wasn't enough to get the job done without dying in the process.
Still, he had a path forward. Theoretically.
The thirty-first floor had only one massive door labeled: Strategic Analysis Room.
Through the glass wall, Dante saw a man standing at the far end, back turned.
He couldn't see the man's face, but after all the multiverse news chaos, Dante couldn't help but frown.
Please don't be another comic book character…
He pushed open the door and called out clearly:
"Special Agent Dante Alighieri of the World Federal Bureau of Investigation, Republic General Bureau, reporting for duty!"
"Come on in."
Dante stepped forward toward the man—and finally got a look at his back.
Shiny bald head. Jet black.
No way… it couldn't be…
"Director, you called for me?"
"Yes. Take a look at these case files first."
The man turned to hand him a folder.
And there it was—an eyepatch.
Of course.
It was freaking Nick Fury.
(To be continued.)