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As they neared the towering, frost-covered mountains hiding the Nouvm Chaldea organization’s main base, Doctor Doom summoned his armor. Plates of steel-grey and emerald assembled piece by piece over his body, gleaming in the harsh winter light. His mask settled last, its cold, emotionless gaze staring out with an almost regal defiance, casting a shadow over his cold ruthless Handsome face beneath. The armor seemed less like protective wear and more like a crown—a declaration of his power.
Rudra Ratan, Doom's rival, raised an eyebrow as he observed the transformation. “Really, Doom? Armor for a simple walking? What’s the purpose of this display?”
Doom turned, his voice echoing with that relentless, unforgiving confidence. “Because I am Doom.”
Rudra rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “Of course you are.”
As they approached, Doom observed the sprawling base, its massive buildings bustling with workers. Normal civilians moved about with a surprising ease, many accompanied by families. Boris, Doom's loyal butler, spoke beside him.
"These people," Boris explained, his voice steady yet observant, "they have demanded the right to bring their families to Chaldea. They refuse to endure the same nightmare a third time—another crisis forcing them to abandon their loved ones.”
Doom looked out at the civilians, a subtle twitch beneath his mask as he silently acknowledged their resolve. They were driven by love, an emotion he had long learned to suppress. But his thoughts were interrupted as they neared the center of the base, where a group of new masters, fresh and arrogant, had gathered to join the ranks.
One of them, a gaudy figure with dyed blonde hair and tanned skin, burst into laughter at the sight of Doom’s imposing armor. His voice rang out, mocking and grating. “Look at this guy! Who does he think he is? Walking around in armor like he’s some kind of king. I’m Marcus Light, ‘King of the Five Elements.’ And you…you look like you raided a medieval fair!”
Another figure snickered. This one was younger, almost childlike, sneering up at Doom with a mocking grin. “Yeah, what century is that thing from?” This was Shoto Dickhunter, his small stature doing nothing to mask his arrogance.
Then Bruce Bud—broad, muscular, with a tight white T-shirt that read “Black Power”—stepped forward, casting a disdainful glance at Doom. “Who’s the idiot who comes in cosplay during a snowstorm? Keep up with the times, grandpa.”
A colorful figure sauntered over, an irreverent grin stretched across his face. He wore a garish T-shirt plastered with anime heroines and the words “GayShit CumPact: Horny Waifus Rail” in bright, glaring letters. This was Red Ditor, the self-proclaimed “King of Shitposting,” who sneered and gave Doom an exaggerated wink. “Hey, what’s with the look, tin man? Someone ditch you? Don’t worry—I’m into men myself. Trans and proud!” He threw a peace sign and laughed as two women standing nearby joined him.
One of the women, a librarian named Fujoshi Yaoi, chuckled into her hand, her eyes brimming with barely disguised mockery. Beside her, Frederica Villainess von Isekaise smirked, crossing her arms as they whispered snide remarks back and forth.
Finally, another master, Haizaki Shogo, swaggered up, a cocky grin plastered on his face. “With that attitude, man, no way you’re getting any bitches.”
The last words had barely left his mouth when Doom raised a single gloved hand, a flicker of energy sparking between his fingers. Without hesitation, a searing blast shot out, slamming into Haizaki with devastating force. The group gasped as Haizaki’s lifeless body crumpled to the ground, the stench of scorched flesh hanging in the air.
Doom’s voice sliced through the stunned silence, cold and unrelenting. “Doom does not need ‘bitches.’” His gaze turned upon the remaining masters, who stared, wide-eyed, as he extended his hands and conjured a shimmering, indomitable barrier, encircling them all.
“You dared insult Doom,” he hissed, his tone dripping with the fury of a Prince who would not tolerate disrespect from peasants. “You stand here, flaunting your arrogance like a crown, yet you have no concept of power, of greatness. I am Victor von Doom, and I am not one to let such insolence go unpunished.”
The masters froze, the weight of his words and the barrier pressing in on them. Even Marcus Light, the so-called “King of the Five Elements,” could feel his confidence evaporating under Doom’s withering glare. Behind them, the silent master, Karitsu Marufuji, who had watched this entire exchange with uneasy anticipation, felt a chill run down his spine, realizing the magnitude of the mistake his peers had made.
Doom's voice softened to an ominous whisper, a sinister calm returning to his demeanor as he looked down upon the trembling masters. “Now, before you stand those who would challenge the world, fools who think themselves kings. But today, you will learn that there is but one true monarch. And his name...is Doom.”
Doom surveyed the scene with cold, unblinking eyes behind his mask. The fallen body of Haizaki lay in front of him, and Doom’s gaze shifted to Rudra, who chuckled darkly as he took in the reactions of the terrified masters.
Rudra smirked, looking down at the headless Haizaki. “Well, you got a free ticket,” he murmured, then turned to the other masters, their faces pale with fear. “You all insult Doom like that and now beg for mercy? Hilarious!” He laughed, letting his words bite into the silence.
The arrogant new masters, once so full of their own titles and mockery, began to stammer, their voices wavering as they pleaded with Doom. But Doom’s expression was unmoved, hidden behind the steely visage of his mask, a monument to both his strength and his wrath.
"Pathetic," Doom intoned, his voice as unforgiving as the metal he wore. "Is this the caliber of those Chaldea deems worthy to join its ranks? A collection of arrogant fools who fail to recognize greatness standing before them?" He shook his head, clearly disappointed, as he began his brutal purge.
First, Doom turned to Red Ditor, the so-called "King of Shitposting," who stood trembling, his colorful T-shirt now a pathetic contrast to the dread he felt. Red tried to stammer out an apology, but Doom’s hands had already begun to radiate with fierce, uncontained energy. Without another word, Doom unleashed a torrent of flame that engulfed Red Ditor entirely, his screams silenced as he was reduced to ashes. The two women who had laughed at Doom—the librarian Fujoshi Yaoi and Frederica Villainess von Isekaise—tried to flee, but Doom’s wrath was already upon them. With a single gesture, he cast a wall of fire, trapping them, and watched in detached silence as the flames claimed them.
Then he turned his gaze upon Bruce Brown, the so-called “Black Panther,” whose bravado had vanished, his "Black Power" T-shirt now a meaningless emblem against Doom’s judgment.
“‘Black Panther? Unfit’” Doom sneered. “More like Black Buffoon.” A sudden crackle of lightning burst forth from Doom’s fingers, arcing across the air with a vicious hiss before striking Bruce. In a single, devastating moment, Bruce was reduced to charred remains, his form collapsing into ash.
The so-called "King of the Five Elements," Marcus Light, tried to adopt a fighting stance, his hands shaking as he attempted to summon some semblance of control over his powers. But Doom saw through the façade—the fear in Marcus’s eyes betrayed him.
“So, Marcus Light,” Doom said, his voice laced with disdain. “King of the Five Elements? Let us see how you wield them.” With a flick of his wrist, Doom invoked the very forces of nature Marcus had foolishly claimed mastery over. Winds howled, fire roared, and the earth trembled, each element twisting under Doom’s absolute command. Marcus writhed in agony as each force lashed at him with brutal precision. Doom’s mastery of the elements was total, his anger shaping their intensity to heights Marcus could not endure. By the end, Marcus lay broken, a shell of the arrogant figure who had dared to mock Doom. Then Doom’s wrath was already upon him. With a single gesture, he cast a wall of fire, trapping him to death.
Shoto Dickhunter, a boy barely older than a child, had been desperately clawing at Doom’s barrier, tears streaming down his face as he sought an escape. Doom looked upon him with disgust.
“Such fragile spirit,” Doom muttered, almost as if he were speaking to himself. He extended his hand, casting out threads of mana that wrapped around Shoto like a predator ensnaring its prey. As Shoto sobbed, Doom tightened the threads, each contraction a slice through flesh and bone. With a final surge of force, Doom let the threads constrict fully, and Shoto’s body was torn apart, his cries abruptly silenced.
Now, only one remained—Karitsu Marufuji, a third-generation warlock and silver medalist in the "Best Teacher in South Korean and Japanese spy." Karitsu, who had remained silent through the chaos, was now on his knees, hands clasped in a desperate plea.
“Please, Doctor Doom,” Karitsu stammered, “I didn’t insult you. I can offer you my service, my knowledge—anything you need.”
Doom approached, his armored figure looming over Karitsu like an executioner before the condemned. He paused, tilting his head as if in consideration. Then, his voice, icy and imperious, cut through the silence.
“Doom requires nothing from you.”
With a final, contemptuous wave of his hand, Doom unleashed a blast of energy that obliterated Karitsu where he knelt. Silence returned to the place, punctuated only by the gentle crackling of embers from the remains of those who had dared to mock the monarch of Latveria.
Doom surveyed the aftermath, his gaze unfeeling, his disdain for these so-called “masters” clear.
“Remember this day,” he murmured to himself, as though addressing Chaldea itself. “For Doom does not forgive. And Doom does not forget.”
As Doom stood amidst the scorched remains of the defeated masters, a sudden flicker appeared in his vision—a system message, clear and distinct but visible only to him.
---
[System Message]
[Ding! You altered the NTR destiny of unfortunate Ritsuka Fujimaru by killing with your own hands the Masters who NTR'd Ritsuka's servants with plot power, forcefully!]
[Ding! You have received 10,000 Credit Points!]
[Ding! You have received Corrupted 7 Fate Fragments of Heavens.]
[Ding! You unlocked a new feature.]
[Credit Points: 10,000]
[Purchasable Items: None]
[Create a Feature]
[???]
---
Doom’s eyes narrowed slightly, analyzing the cryptic wording as new information unfurled.
---
[System Message]
[Ding! Host unlocks secret information. If Host tries to kill the heavens’ favorite child, the Destiny Hero of Heaven (Plot Armor MC), then host will receive Heaven's Wrath and be struck by Heaven's Punishment, a force meant to erase any villain from existence. Host is warned: directly killing Shirou Emiya will invoke this consequence, as he is protected by corrupted heavens and plot itself.]
---
Doom’s eyes burned with fury as he read, clenching his gloved fist. His mind raced, his ire simmering as he processed the revelation. The heavens protect this "Shirou Emiya," even if he were to destroy the world? Such favoritism was an insult to Doom, a being who achieved greatness through sheer intellect and will, not through the aid of cosmic favoritism. (He totally become Doom)
But Doom was not one to allow anger to cloud his judgment. He would craft a plan worthy of his intellect, for he was Victor von Doom, the genius monarch of Latveria. Doom would circumvent this cosmic favoritism; he would find a way to dismantle Shirou’s protection with strategy, rather than brute force.
As Doom pondered, Rudra’s voice cut into his thoughts.
"That's why, Victor,” Rudra remarked, “you should at least consider stepping out of your kingdom once in a while. Your influence could spread further if you attended to the concerns of other nations instead of staying bound to your castle.”
Doom's gaze shifted to Rudra, a faint trace of disdain in his eyes. “Doom does not waste time pandering to the egos of lesser nations,” he stated with unyielding authority. “Doom meets no one on equal ground unless Doom decrees it. The time I spend in Latveria is time spent elevating it beyond the reach of fools who would squander such power.”
Rudra let out a low chuckle, recognizing the iron conviction in Doom’s voice. Boris, Doom’s faithful butler, stood silently beside his master, a faint smile on his face as he observed Doom's unbreakable resolve.
Doom turned his gaze back toward the road to Chaldea, his thoughts once again calculating the message he had received from the system. This plot armor, these Fate Fragments, the corrupted heavens—they would all bend before Doom.
Boris, ever the loyal and meticulous servant, knelt beside the charred and shattered remains of the arrogant masters. Without a word, he opened a small, ornate ring on his gloved finger. From it emerged a portal-like space that swallowed the remnants—clothes, scraps of scorched bone, and the faint smell of burnt arrogance—all vanishing swiftly into the void. Boris moved with precision, collecting each piece without hesitation, knowing full well his master's intentions.
Doom’s voice cut through the cold air like steel. “Boris,” he commanded, his tone rich with regal disdain, “dispatch these remnants to the nations that dared to send such witless fools before Doom. Let them see the fate of those who disrespect Victor von Doom. Make it clear,” he continued, his tone carrying the gravitas of an emperor pronouncing judgment, “that if they attempt to make amends through subterfuge, be it by hiding in the shadows of the Clock Tower or seeking refuge with the Church, they shall face the wrath of Doom’s hand. And let none doubt—I do not make idle threats.”
Boris bowed deeply, his expression both respectful and resolute. “As you command, young master. I shall ensure the message is delivered in all its intended severity.” With swift efficiency, Boris activated a communication device, sending encrypted transmissions to each implicated nation, a message laced with Doom’s indomitable will.
With his task completed, Boris stepped back, awaiting further orders, but Doom’s gaze had already turned to the horizon. He observed the vast, unbroken expanse of Antarctica, his green cloak billowing in the icy wind, his armor glinting against the stark white. Beside him, Rudra Ratan watched, mildly amused but curious.
Doom’s attention remained fixed on the distant sky. “Go,” he ordered to both his butler and Rudra. “Proceed to Chaldea. I have no need for company while I look upon this land. Doom shall join you soon.”
Without hesitation, Boris inclined his head, gesturing for Rudra to accompany him. Rudra hesitated, watching Doom with a mixture of respect and intrigue before nodding and turning to leave with Boris.
Now alone, Doom stood like a statue against the white vastness, his eyes reflecting both the boundless sky and the frozen desolation before him. He inhaled deeply, the cold biting through even his armor, a fitting testament to the icy resolve within his soul.
“Let the heavens and earth bear witness,” he murmured, his voice nearly lost in the wind. “For when Doom decrees it, even the world’s most powerful forces shall bow.”
As Victor von Doom stood beneath the vast, frozen sky, he activated his system interface, a holographic display materializing before him. The fragments labeled Corrupted 7 Fate Fragments of Cursed Heavens shimmered ominously on the screen, drawing his unwavering attention.
“If the heavens and their narrative plots conspire against Doom,” he stated with cold determination, “then Doom shall rewrite the entire story to suit his vision.”
He meticulously analyzed the fragments, each one pulsating with potential and power. As he delved deeper, the purpose of the fragments became clear. They were not just remnants of failed destinies; they were tools that could be reshaped and wielded to his advantage.
With a swift motion, Doom invoked the creation of two new features within his system, confident in his understanding of its mechanics.
[Ding! New features are created.]
[Ding! Calculating the credit points... 200 CP]
1. Devouring Plot Armor of MC: Allows the host or their subordinates to absorb the luck and protective narrative shield of any Main Character killed.
2. Trading with Any Evil Person: Enables the host to engage in transactions with malevolent or evil trait entities, acquiring power or resources , etc.
“Good!” Doom proclaimed, satisfaction seeping through his otherwise stoic demeanor. The first feature was vital; he understood the significance of plot armor all too well. Doom need the luck and plot armor for his system. The second feature, a clever stratagem, would provide him the means to barter with darkness, ultimately serving his ambition to cleanse his world from the endless sea of miasma.
“System! Connect to Eren Yeager from the Attack on Titan world. I require a trade with him.” Doom's voice was firm, his will resonating through the system. And he give from which timeline he needs to trade with Eren.
[Ding! Calculating... 400 CP]
[Ding! Creating link…]
While Doom’s thoughts whirled with ambition, his surroundings began to stir with life. A trio of young mages walked by, their voices muffled by the cold air. Rin Tohsaka, her sharp tongue always ready, turned to her sister Sakura and whispered, “Who is that idiot staring at the sky, cosplaying as a knight? He looks ridiculous.”
Sakura’s eyes darted nervously towards Doom, her anxiety palpable. “We should keep moving, Rin. He looks like he could destroy us if he heard you,” she murmured, glancing back at Shirou, who was already feeling uncomfortable.
“Let’s go,” Shirou urged, his voice tinged with concern. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Yeah, let’s hurry, Senpai” Sakura agreed, and together, the trio hurried past Doom, their laughter and banter fading as they moved toward Chaldea, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing behind them.
Doom’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon, oblivious to their mockery. “Fools,” he muttered, adjusting his mask. “They are unaware of the forces they will soon.”
*****
[Eren Yeager POV]
Eren Yeager sat alone in a dimly lit room, his mind swirling with a chaotic mix of memories and emotions. The images from the royal award ceremony haunted him, particularly the moment he had kissed Historia's hand. Each time he closed his eyes, he was reminded of the weight of destiny pressing down on him. The echoes of his father's memories loomed large, intertwining with his own thoughts as he struggled to comprehend the enormity of his actions.
“What’s wrong with me?” he muttered to himself, feeling a shiver run down his spine. “I can’t believe I would even think about killing 80% of the population to save my friends… to save Mikasa.” The thought itself felt like a betrayal, a line he had never imagined crossing.
Eren stood up abruptly, pacing the small space as anxiety bubbled within him. He couldn’t shake the idea that he was being pulled into a dark fate, one that he had never chosen. “There has to be another way,” he insisted aloud, the words echoing in the empty room.
Just then, a series of system notifications flickered before him, glowing brightly against the dark backdrop of his confusion.
[Ding! Individual Eren Yeager, Doom wants to trade with you. The protagonist and Antagonist of this world with evil traits.]
[Ding! Doom says he will save Paradise, and Eren Yeager doesn’t have to kill 80% of the population for his goals. Doom promises to stand by his word.]
Eren’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What the hell?!” The notifications felt surreal, like a cruel joke. “Is this even real? A trade? With… Doom? Who?”
His heart raced as a flood of thoughts collided in his mind. He got information about system and different worlds etc in his mind.
“If this is real, maybe there’s a chance. Maybe I can save my people without going through with this insane plan.” But doubt quickly crept in. “Can I really trust him? Can I trust anyone? What if this is just another trap?”
The next notification brought a chill to his spine.
[Ding! Doom says this is not a request, but an order.]
Panic surged through him. “An order?” Eren’s instincts kicked in. “I can’t just follow orders blindly! What if this is another manipulation?”
He gritted his teeth, wrestling with the weight of his choices. “No… I can’t talk to anyone about this. I can’t trust them to understand. They wouldn’t…” The thought of burdening his friends with his uncertainty felt unbearable.
After a moment of hesitation, he took a deep breath, determination hardening in his resolve. “Okay, I’ll talk with him.”
[Ding! Connecting….]
As the connection was established, Eren felt a mixture of hope and fear. “If Doom can truly save Paradise, then maybe… just maybe, this is the path I need to take.” The thought was both liberating and terrifying, but Eren knew he had to take the leap. There was no turning back now.
****
(Doom's POV)
Doom stood before the shimmering interface of the system, the soft glow illuminating his masked face. He could feel the weight of the moment, knowing that the fate of Eren Yeager and his world was about to shift dramatically. With a calculated air of authority, he initiated the exchange.
[Doom: “Eren Yeager, I’ll go straight to the point. I want to trade two things from you in exchange for granting a future without wars or discrimination of your kind. You already received information about the multiverse from the system.”]
[Eren Yeager: “Wait, hold on! You want to trade something? What do you need from me? I... I don’t understand. Are you really going to help us? How can I trust you?” ] Eren’s heart raced as uncertainty clawed at him. The weight of his current circumstances made it difficult to grasp the enormity of what Doom proposed.
[Doom: “I want to trade your Plot Armor, and I want you to give permission to exchange our positions.”]
[Eren Yeager: “Plot Armor? What does that even mean? Are you saying you want to take my… my luck? I don’t know what you’re talking about! Why would I do that? What’s in it for me?” ] Confusion and disbelief washed over Eren, his teenage mind struggling to process the implications of Doom’s words. This was a life-altering decision, and he felt like a pawn in a game he didn't understand.
[Doom: “Doom does not waste time. If you, Eren, cannot make decisions, then I will leave right now. Doom always stands by his word.”] Doom’s tone was firm, unyielding. He reveled in the sense of power he wielded over the young Titan.
As he watched Eren’s brow furrow in uncertainty, a sinister smile crept beneath the mask. This was his moment to manipulate, to guide the boy into making a choice in haste.
[Eren Yeager: “I… I don’t have a choice, do I? If you can really save Paradise… then maybe it’s worth it. I agree! I’ll trade with you!” ] Desperation tinged his voice, the burden of his choices weighing heavily on his shoulders.
[Ding! Trading is processing...]
[Ding! Trading is completed.]
[Ding! Doom received weaker Plot Armor from Eren Yeager, and Eren Yeager lost his status as protagonist and antagonist in his world.]
[Ding! Exchanging Eren Yeager's Earth to switch with Doom's Earth.]
[Ding! Successful.]
[Ding! By agreement, transferring the whole island of Paradis from Eren Yeager's world to Doom's world, location beside Doom’s Latveria kingdom.]
[Ding! Successful.]
[Ding! Eren Yeager is removed from chat.]
Suddenly, the earth from Doom’s world switched places with Eren Yeager’s world.
From his window, Eren watched in bewilderment as his beloved Paradis Island transitioned from a bright morning to an ominous evening, the sky suddenly changed out of nowhere. Confusion knotted in his gut as he grasped the gravity of the situation, unable to comprehend what had just transpired.
On the other side, Eren’s previous world—now devoid of its magical defenses—was met with the catastrophic force of the Endless Sea of Miasma. A malevolent wave rolled over the land, twisting everything in its path into grotesque forms. The once-vibrant nations that had clung to survival began to rot, consumed by the insatiable tide. The Miasma, with its dark tendrils, corrupted the very essence of reality, transforming beings into horrific demons or worse—absorbing them into a void of eternal torment.
The flood surged through the streets, and cries of despair echoed in the air as people became mere puppets of the abyss, twisted by the relentless corruption.
Doom scarified Eren Yeager earth for Greater good.
As Doom observed the devastation unfolding on the system screen, he felt nothing—no remorse, no pity—only the satisfaction of a plan flawlessly executed. The Endless Sea of Miasma ravaged Eren Yeager's previous world, its inky waves swallowing everything in a chaotic spiral of corruption and ruin. Cities collapsed, landscapes twisted, and the people became mindless, grotesque abominations. The cries of the doomed were lost, absorbed into the relentless darkness. For Doom, it was the fitting end to a world he deemed unworthy.
In the cold, calculating depths of his mind, Doom assessed his choice. He had willingly sacrificed Eren’s world, sparing his own from the abyssal fate that had claimed the other. And though he had saved Eren and Paradis Island by transplanting them to his own world, Doom was unwavering in his disdain for Eren and his people.
Doom scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed the young Titan’s previous actions. "If I had possessed the power of the Titans and that boy’s vision, I would not have squandered it on sentimental trifles,” he muttered under his breath. His gloved fingers tapped rhythmically on the edge of his throne. “Eren Yeager—a fool shackled Dumb Bird brain by sentiment, too weak to seize true control. With power like his, he should have ruled, shaped the world as he saw fit, and brought peace through his strength. Yet he faltered, time and again, sniveling over petty attachments. Pathetic.”
Doom's mind drifted momentarily to the end of Eren's saga, a story that had concluded with Eren clinging to thoughts of Mikasa, a love that had blinded him from achieving greatness. "He cried for a woman when the fate of his world hung in the balance. A fool, torn between his dreams and his weakness." Doom's voice dripped with contempt. "Had it been Doom standing at the edge of that world, there would be no doubt, no hesitation. Doom would have carved a path through those that opposed him and forged a legacy that even the gods would fear.”
His gaze hardened, the destruction on-screen reflected in his cold, metallic mask. "Such is the fate of those unworthy of their power—a fate befitting those who fail to grasp the gift they are given." Doom's fingers clenched, his voice a low growl. "I am nothing like you, Eren Yeager. Doom does not bow, nor does he weep. Doom builds empires and shapes destiny. And now, thanks to you, my world will remain secure, uncorrupted by the taint of that endless Miasma."
With a final look of indifference at the screen, Doom leaned back, his lips curling into a smirk. He had saved his world from ruin and achieved yet another victory on his terms. There would be no sentiment, no weakness in his heart.
“Let this be a lesson,” Doom intoned, almost to himself, his voice echoing in the vastness of the chamber. “To stand in Doom’s way is to embrace oblivion. And those who cannot wield power will find that power ripped from them.”
Turning away from the screen, Doom left the haunting images of Eren’s world behind. It was time to focus on what mattered—the prosperity of his own dominion, unmarred by the failures of lesser men.
Doom opens the Shop feature in system. And uses 2000 cp to buy Doom Slayer Aura.
[Ding! Purchase successfully]
[Aura of Doom is a passive, terrifying skill that brings a relentless, war-driven aura to its host. This ability isn't just a surface-level boost; it has a powerful presence that channels the essence of war and doom itself. Here are the details:
Skill Description:
Name: Aura of Doom
Type: Passive Ability
Primary Effect: Each defeated opponent transfers a portion of their strength to the host, gradually augmenting their physical and mental power with every victory.
Effects and Attributes:
1. Strength Absorption: Each enemy defeated under the influence of the Aura of Doom releases a fraction of their power—strength, resilience, and even life force—that the host absorbs. This not only increases the host's physical power but also grants a limited understanding of the enemy's abilities, weaknesses, and combat skills, turning every fight into an opportunity for growth.
2. Warlike Presence: The aura emanates a constant, oppressive presence that others feel as a state of war itself. Those nearby perceive an instinctual feeling of dread and hostility, as if faced with an indomitable, ancient warrior hardened through countless battles. This can make allies wary, while intimidating or unsettling weaker-willed enemies.
3. Madness Inducement: The aura doesn't just enhance the host; it also affects the minds of those in proximity. Enemies and even allies may experience feelings of impending doom, heightened aggression, or even madness. Their fear can cloud their thoughts and lead to erratic, poorly calculated actions, giving the host a tactical advantage.
4. Battle Resilience: The Aura of Doom hardens the host against mental and emotional attacks, reinforcing their focus and drive to conquer and protect. This resilience mirrors the indomitable will of the Doom Slayer—a multiversal warrior who stands unbroken against even the fiercest foes.
5. Fearsome Reputation: As the Aura of Doom amplifies with each victory, the host begins to embody the dread figure of an unrelenting demon-slayer—a being feared across dimensions. This gives the host a reputation that precedes them, often demoralizing opponents or instilling fear before the battle even begins.
6. Empowered Rage: The aura channels a controlled rage similar to the Doom Slayer’s relentless state, providing adrenaline-fueled boosts to speed, power, and reaction times during combat. When facing particularly powerful opponents, the aura's rage intensifies, pushing the host to their physical and mental limits while increasing their combat proficiency.]
Doom’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he reviewed the information on his newly acquired skill, the Aura of Doom. The system’s descriptions echoed the kind of power he had always known to be his birthright. With a flick of his fingers, he closed the notification screens, his gloved hands resting with anticipation on his throne.
The essence of the Doom Slayer—the legendary force of carnage, feared across dimensions and known for wading through endless waves of destruction—now belonged to Victor von Doom. An aura crafted to break enemies physically, mentally, and spiritually, bending them under the weight of sheer terror and war. This was more than a simple power boost; it was an extension of Doom’s very will. A fitting homage to his name.
“Perfect,” Doom murmured, his voice as cold and unforgiving as steel. "As expected, even in other realms, there is an understanding of true power… and it bears the name of Doom."
He considered each attribute of his new power with reverence: Strength Absorption—a fitting mechanism to drain his opponents of their essence, adding it to his own. Warlike Presence and Madness Inducement—gifts that would unravel the minds of any who dared to stand before him. And Battle Resilience, hardened by the ceaseless, war-driven essence of a multiverse demon-slayer, an unyielding force beyond mortal comprehension.
A smirk played across his hidden face. This skill would allow him to achieve his aims faster, making him not only feared but effectively unstoppable. A demon-slayer? That was but a fraction of what Doom would embody. His enemies would know the unrelenting dread of facing Doom itself.
He opened his system interface once more, fingers tapping commands with precision. The time for his final plan was upon him, and all had been carefully laid.
“Let all who stand against Doom quake in fear. To resist me is to embrace oblivion.”
Without hesitation, he gave his final command to the system.
A small, satisfied grin tugged at the corners of Doom’s mouth beneath his mask as the system’s notifications rolled across his vision.
---
[Ding! New system created using Corrupted 7 Fate Fragments of Cursed Heavens and plot armor.]
[Ding! "Plot Armor MC's Eliminating with Chat Group" created]
---
{Your status in the chat group has automatically been adjusted to ‘Group Owner’}
Doom let out a low chuckle. "Group Owner," he mused, his mind flickering to the concepts he'd seen in certain fictional realms—where the Group Owner held vast privileges, unseen power, and control over all members within. He could wield this system like a weapon, bending even the most stubbornly blessed scum protagonists to his will.
---
{Group Owner Privileges:
• You can mute and kick group members.
• Members must have your consent to travel to other worlds.
• You can refine the luck of defeated protagonists from different worlds, earning credit points in the process.
• Group members cannot harm you directly or indirectly, but they may attempt to provoke you emotionally.
• Privileges remain hidden from members unless you choose to reveal them.
• Group members can buy limited items selected by you, using credit points.
• Members may upload items of value to earn credit points.
More privileges will unlock as additional members join the chat group.}
---
“Perfect,” Doom murmured under his mask, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
The rules he’d crafted were a reflection of his unbending will, designed to assert his control while baiting others with the promise of power. Any who entered this group would be subject to his rule, and if they dared speak ill of Doom? A simple flick to mute or kick them would suffice, followed, of course, by a personal visit to their world to see it destroyed of their universe. None would stand in opposition to him without consequence.
Refining luck, he mused, reveling in the idea. Each scum protagonist he encountered would lose their blessings slowly, those cursed threads of “plot armor” stripped and siphoned to empower him further. Their victories, their talents—all would be seized by Doom’s design, refined for his ends, their worth returned in credit points to fuel his ambitions.
The group’s purpose was clear: a gathering place for eliminating scum main characters. Those who joined would know immediately, should they possess the sense, that they were to work alongside Doom or face the consequences of standing against him. Striking down these protagonists, taking what they prized most—this would be Doom’s amusement.
The universe, multiverse, and now this system itself would be his to command, and all who dared oppose him would know the price.
"Add People who are suitable for this Group Chat and give them Invitation from me?" Doom said to the system.
[Ding! Sending new invitations....]
[Sent an invitation to 'This was all part of my plan' Aizen Sosuke to the Chat group]
[Sent an invitation to 'Batman the one who laughs' to the Chat group]
[Sent an invitation to 'White Room Monster' Kiyotaka Ayanokoji to the Chat group]
[Sent an invitation to 'King of Curses' Ryomen Sukuna to the Chat group]
[Sent an invitation to 'Vampire Queen' Alice Von Ataxria to the Chat group]
[Sent an invitation to 'Adopted prince of Asgard' Loki to the Chat group]
[Sent an invitation to 'Sadistic general' Esdeath to the Chat group]
[Sent an invitation to 'King of dragons' Antares to the Chat group]