MARVEL-THE MULTIVERSE TRADER

→ 20 REVIEWS= 2 BONUS CHAPTER

→ 150 POWER STONES= 1 BONUS CHAPTER

→ 300 POWER STONES= 2nd BONUS CHAPTER

CURRENT PROGRESS:↓

– FIRST OBJECTIVE:- 7/20 REVIEWS

– SECOND OBJECTIVE- 156/150 P.S ✓

– THIRD OBJECTIVE- 217/ 300 P.S

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It had been a week since Nova acquired the Omnitrix.

And in that week, the peaceful, humble village of Hage had experienced what could only be described as a full-blown existential crisis.

It started small.

A flickering orange glow one evening near the forest edge, followed by a walking inferno — a humanoid figure wreathed in living fire, cackling as it hurled fireballs at a river to see if it would boil.

Then came the massive red-skinned giant, with four bulging arms and a grin so wide it sent the village chickens into a frenzy. Children swore they saw him lift a boulder the size of the village well and stack it on top of Father Orsi's roof just because he could.

On the third day, a stinking, winged insect the size of a horse buzzed through the village square at dawn, leaving behind a stench so foul the old herbalist passed out, and three children refused to come out of their houses until nightfall.

And just when they thought the worst was over — came the eyeless, wolf-sized creature with jagged, spiked fur and a bestial howl that rattled the wooden walls of every home. Sister Lily nearly fainted when it tried to sniff her, and Asta swore he was ready to punch it out of existence until it awkwardly sneezed and vanished in a flicker of green light.

The village had never known peace since.

Hushed whispers filled the nights.

"It's a cursed spirit!"

"A demon!"

"Some new weird magic relic Nova found!"

The elders debated holding a cleansing ritual. The children made up monster-spotting games, and Father Orsi had already sent a letter to the Magic Knights asking if someone could investigate.

Meanwhile, Nova?

He was on a sugar high.

The sheer novelty of swapping between alien forms like some cosmic shapeshifter had completely overridden any sense of restraint. His inner child had gone feral, and for seven glorious days, he'd tested every unlocked form like a kid with a new toy chest.

Heatblast lighting bonfires just because.

Four Arms challenging himself to lift progressively larger rocks.

Stinkfly chasing sheep into ponds for fun.

Wildmutt sprinting through the woods, hunting scents only he could sense.

It was reckless. It was irresponsible. It was magnificent.

And Nova loved every second of it.

Though even he had to admit, the villagers looked a little too pale these days.

He sat atop his self-made wooden house, grinning as he watched Asta furiously doing one-handed push-ups while glancing warily toward the treeline every so often, no doubt expecting another monster to jump out.

"I might've overdone it," Nova admitted aloud, to no one in particular.

The Omnitrix on his wrist emitted a soft green pulse, as if smugly agreeing.

Nova grinned wider.

"Still worth it."

------

A few days later, Nova stood at the edge of Hage Village once again. The sun hung low in the sky, bathing the treetops in lazy orange light. The kids gathered around him, tugging at his cloak, asking for stories, tricks, and snacks — in that order.

He laughed, ruffling their hair one by one, promising the usual.

"I'll be back in time for your Grimoire Ceremony, alright? And I'll bring souvenirs from the capital too. Maybe some enchanted candies. Or a living broom. We'll see."

Asta, grinning wildly, challenged him to a spar before he left, but Nova waved him off, blaming a twisted ankle and conveniently ignoring the flexing kid.

And with that, he left the village, raising his arm.

As soon as he left their sight, the Omnitrix's dial rotated with a satisfying click, settling on a familiar alien silhouette. Nova grinned.

"Let's stretch those legs."

He slammed the dial down.

A surge of green light erupted, and in an instant, the slim, aerodynamic form of XLR8 replaced him — only to vanish a heartbeat later in a gust of wind and scattered leaves.

---

Ten Months Later, It could've taken a week.

Hell, it could've taken a day.

But Nova had no intention of heading straight to the capital. Too predictable. Too boring.

Instead, he wandered.

He ventured deep into several Grand Magic Zones — perilous, mana-rich territories where the laws of reality liked to get experimental. It was during one of these excursions he'd hoped to meet that fire madam, but no luck. Maybe next time.

The detour, however, wasn't a waste.

He trained, fought mutated beasts, and gathered rare materials — mana-reactive ores, ancient relic fragments etc. Along the way, he stopped in countless villages and border towns, not just to rest, but to quietly scout local talents. Nova knew one simple truth: no empire — magical or otherwise — could stand without capable hands behind it.

He was a trader, after all. And if he was going to carve a foothold in this world, he needed infrastructure.

Good wages. Easy contracts. No mandatory dying in dungeons. Weekend bonuses.

It didn't take much convincing.

Over time, he gathered a small but promising network — craftsmen, enchanters, runesmiths, and one surprisingly competent cook who made the best fried mana-beast meat in the region. He even secured a property near a trade route, where he began construction on what he dubbed Ashbourne Artificery & Trading Co.

The factory had been operational for four months now, producing low to mid-tier magic artifacts for everyday use — self-warming cloaks, rain-repelling boots, mana-infused ink, and enchanted weapon grips.

Thankfully, Nova had stumbled upon a naturally gifted artifact artisan — a sharp, pragmatic young man named Diren — and without hesitation, dumped the operational burden of the factory on him and ran away.

No, no, he didn't run away.

Nova was delegating. That's responsible leadership.

Of course, he still popped in from time to time. To make sure the accounts balanced. And to swipe a few new prototypes for "field testing."

---

After ten long months of wandering, scheming, and making increasingly irresponsible use of his alien transformations, Nova finally strolled through the outer gates of the Clover Kingdom's capital.

The city was exactly as he remembered — alive with a blend of disorder and mana-charged energy. Narrow streets crammed with merchants selling everything from mana-thread cloaks to roasted skewers filled the air with the scent of spice, smoke, and crackling magic. Overhead, enchanted sigils floated lazily, flickering in the afternoon light like drunken fireflies.

By law, dealing in magic artifacts without the Wizard King's personal approval was a serious offense — one of those crimes that didn't get you a slap on the wrist but a cell deep beneath the capital, where daylight and dignity both went to die.

And acquiring that royal sanction? It wasn't something you achieved by waving coin or shaking a few hands. It took connections, cunning, and influence most people could only dream of.

Fortunately for Nova, he had all three.

He was a noble by title, a con man by profession, and best of all — he had a secretary no sane man could refuse.

Celise Vernette.

A widow with sharp amber eyes that could cut glass, a waterfall of midnight-black hair, and a body so sinful it probably needed its own arrest warrant. She wasn't just beautiful — she was the kind of woman you'd sell your soul for, and then thank her for the privilege.

Nova grinned at the memory of their first encounter. He'd found her standing beneath a flickering lamppost in a border town on a cold, rainy night, desperately working up the nerve to step into a brothel for the first time in her life. Her husband — a debt-ridden noble with more bad habits than coin — had died months earlier, leaving her drowning in debt and with three-year-old twin children to care for.

Even exhausted and soaked to the bone, Celise had looked like a goddess among mortals.

Her figure was absolute temptation: scandalous hips that swayed like a siren's call, a narrow, graceful waist meant to be gripped tight, and a pair of breasts so perfectly generous they could smother lesser men into blissful death.

Even now, just thinking about her made Nova grin like a fool.

She never made it through that brothel door. Because Nova bought her entire night on the spot.

Not just for the obvious reasons — though, stars above, that night memories is enough for powering a full power patronus spell. The next morning, while sharing cheap tavern bread and bitter coffee, he learned her story, listened to her sharp tongue and sharp mind, and realized she wasn't some desperate peasant girl. Celise was a former noblewoman, clever as a serpent, with the kind of ruthless practicality he respected.

Nova had offered her a job on the spot.

A secretary, yes — but one with far more power and pay than anyone in her position should have enjoyed.

And while she might still end up on her knees from time to time — preferably after business hours and for very personal negotiations — she would do so as the highest-paid, most respected, and most dangerously efficient woman in his entire operation.

Those hips, that rack, and those legs were just… outrageous bonuses.

And if he was being honest, he still wants to personally thank whatever gods existed for crafting that bubble butt of hers. The memory of how it had bounced against him that first night, framed by moonlight, was enough to make his blood run hot even now.

Nova shook his head violently, forcing the image away before he popped an erection in the middle of a public street. A few passing townsfolk gave him strange looks, but he ignored them.

"Focus, dammit. Not getting arrested for public indecency today."

A month ago, Celise had arrived in the capital ahead of him, submitting the necessary paperwork, navigating the tangled web of guild restrictions, and charming a handful of high-ranking bureaucrats into approving permits and inspections. Rumor even claimed one particularly handsy noble tried something foolish and ended up with a dislocated wrist. Nova made a mental note to buy her a drink for that later.

Then, just yesterday, an enchanted talisman arrived with her unmistakably sharp handwriting.

["Your audience with the Wizard King has been approved. Stop wandering around like a feral beast and get your ass to the capital. And for the love of mana, bring the signed ledgers this time, you irresponsible bastard."]

Nova chuckled aloud at the memory of the message.

He could practically hear the exasperated sigh behind those words, could picture those perfectly sculpted breasts heaving as she crossed her arms and glared at him. The sway of her hips beneath one of those dangerously tight skirts she favored during business meetings was a sight he intended to savor again very soon.

"Best damn secretary in the kingdom… and built like she was forged in a sin-forging furnace."

He strolled down the crowded streets, hands tucked lazily behind his head as the imposing spires of the Magic Knights' headquarters came into view, catching the late afternoon light.

"Alright, alright… time to play the respectable businessman."

Though, if he was being honest with himself, it'd probably be more like a con man with a dangerously official-looking secretary and an irresponsibly generous grin.

And if the gods were kind, maybe — just maybe — tonight would end with Celise on his lap, giving him one of those sharp-tongued lectures while dressed in something far too tight and far too short for public decency.

Either way, his show was about to begin.

x------x

CHAPTER:- (27- MUTANT DEPARTMENT (II)) IS AVAILABLE ON MY P@TREON.

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