Eatoutpieces

Matthew is your average transmigrator — except he's somehow ended up as a shareholder in Umbrella Corporation. In the Marvel Universe. Don't ask how. He doesn't know either. With Thanos on the horizon, the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. breathing down his neck, and his fellow shareholders actively trying to kill him, things aren't looking great. His one saving grace? A system that rewards him for raising people's "Happiness Index." The catch: every reward the system hands out is a bioweapon. T-Virus. G-Virus. Extremis. Blacklight. The list keeps growing, and none of it screams public welfare. Fortunately, his system comes with a workbench — perfect for turning weapons of mass destruction into something a little more... palatable.

Commissars - or Ministorum Priests of War - are the soul of any Astra Militarum regiment. They lead by example and hold the absolute standard. A soul from another world inexplicably takes up the role of probationary commissar in the grim darkness of the far future. His world is a brutal death-world battlefield. His regiment has been surrounded by Chaos traitors and is fighting for survival. Duvette looks at the System before him called "Soul of the Legion" and makes one decision: he is going to live. "What do you mean an Astra Militarum soldier ripped a Chaos Astartes' head off with his bare hands?!" "You're saying you have three hundred thousand mortal troops as powerful as the Custodes?" Guilliman looked at the man before him. "No. Stronger." A hundred years later "I am the Emperor's will. We are the hammer that crushes the xenos. We are the blade that pierces Chaos. We bring eternal death to the enemies of mankind, and mankind shall know true victory." Eternal Imperial Warmaster, Lord of the Sun, Humanity's Sole Consul, Augustus, Guardian of the Galaxy, Marshal Duvette. Progression: Commissar — Senior Commissar — Lord Commissar. Then: trophy worlds, legion-building, power fantasy in the grim darkness of the 41st Millennium.

Weak, pitiful, and helpless. Low stars, low attack, low defense. In a world where everyone has "duelist brain," Normal Monsters with no effects are treated as worthless trash. "Mr. Amano, as the number one ranked duelist in the Tower, you stubbornly choose to battle with trash monsters. There must be some profound meaning behind this, right?" "Emmm... if I had money, who wouldn't want to use rare cards?" After transmigrating, Amano Rei discovered that the anime lied to everyone. You can't build a complete deck by digging through garbage—you can only find Normal Monsters that nobody wants. What's that? You're asking about the Blue-Eyes White Dragon, Dark Magician, and Neos in my deck? Those three are all Normal Monsters too! They need two tributes, require fusion and Xyz and Synchro summons—way too much trouble. Fortunately, I kept one trick up my sleeve. [The Sealed Right Hand] - Exodia is also...

No fruit like this should exist. The Hito Hito no Mi, Model: Hollow Black-Winged Demon, is a Mythical Zoan that doesn't belong in this world — and neither does the thing sealed inside it. Dick Rocks is a Devil Fruit user and a Jinchuriki both. The Hollow living inside him wants his body. His soul. Everything. And it's getting stronger. Iron Skin. High-Speed Regeneration. Cero. Sonido. Gran Rey Cero. The abilities of Ulquiorra's form, growing alongside a threat that has no ceiling. And then the question that rewrites the rules: Hollows devour their own kind to evolve. So what happens when a Devil Fruit does the same? He carries the name Rocks. Not Rocks D. Xebec. Not a legacy. Dick Rocks — and everything the old man left unfinished, he's going to close out personally. When his Awakening finally spreads those black wings wide enough to blot out the sun, the World Government will learn what it means to cast a shadow. Someone's coming to fill it. "Who told you to come after me?"