Selling Devil Fruits in the Marvel Universe

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*Bang!* 

A thunderous crash echoed through the room, shaking the very air as Murakami's body was violently thrown across the space, soaring over ten meters before colliding with the wall with a sickening thud. His lifeless form crumpled to the ground, motionless and still. There was no question about it—he was dead. Completely and absolutely, his life was extinguished in an instant.

*Gulp.*

The quiet, strained sound of someone nervously swallowing cut through the heavy silence that had fallen over the room. Even the Hand's cold, emotionless assassins—hardened through years of brutal training—found themselves unable to hide their unease. A collective shudder passed through them, breaking their stoic composure.

And who could blame them?

Rosh's display of power was nothing short of astonishing, a force so overwhelming that it defied comprehension and left even the most seasoned killers shaken to their core.

With an air of nonchalance, he had casually muttered, "How terrifying," as if mocking the very idea of fear, all while effortlessly taking down the Hand's leaders with a single kick each.

These weren't just any opponents—they were the infamous "Fingers" of the Hand, figures of legend who had endured and thrived through centuries of bloodshed and infamy. Yet, in the face of this man, their supposed invincibility crumbled.

Even Madame Gao, known for her unflinching composure and razor-sharp cunning, could not wholly conceal the flicker of fear that crossed her usually impassive face. It was a rare crack in her armor, a testament to the unparalleled dominance Rosh had just demonstrated.

"Kill him!" Madame Gao wasted no time issuing her command, though her voice carried a subtle tremor that betrayed the panic she fought to suppress. 

The Hand's elite ninja warriors sprang into action without question, their movements fluid and coordinated. With blades flashing, they surged toward Rosh, every strike executed with deadly precision.

Amidst the chaos, Madame Gao's sharp mind shifted gears. While her warriors kept Rosh engaged, she began to retreat, her steps quiet and measured as she carefully plotted her escape. She wasn't foolish enough to underestimate what she had seen. Just moments earlier, she had watched Murakami, one of the Hand's most formidable fighters, launch a strike that should have been lethal. Instead, it had failed spectacularly.

Murakami's unsuccessful assault revealed a chilling truth: Rosh possessed the ability to transform his body into pure light whenever he chose, rendering himself almost untouchable. No weapon, no attack, and no level of mastery could injure someone who could effortlessly abandon their physical form and exist as an intangible force.

With both Murakami and Bakuto lying motionless in defeat, the Hand had already been stripped of their most formidable champions. What they had left was a ragtag assembly relying solely on sheer numbers, a strategy that now seemed pitifully insufficient. Faced with an adversary of such extraordinary power, the prospect of survival wasn't merely slim—it was utterly hopeless.

Yet, even as she carefully plotted her escape, a harsh and unsettling truth began to dawn on her. All her efforts were futile. There was no running, no hiding, and no escape from this relentless monster.

Rosh lifted his hands with deliberate ease, crossing them gracefully over his chest. A shimmering golden light began to dance and flicker at his fingertips, radiating an aura of quiet yet immense power.

"Yasakani no Magatama!"

*Pew-pew-pew-pew!* 

Blazing bullets of golden light erupted in rapid bursts, their dazzling brilliance illuminating the entire room. Like an unrelenting storm, the radiant projectiles poured down upon The Hand's ninjas, leaving them utterly defenseless with no chance to dodge or escape.

*Thud, thud, thud!* 

In a matter of seconds, every member of The Hand in the vicinity was annihilated, their lifeless bodies scattered across the floor in chaotic disarray. 

"What?!" Madame Gao gasped, her face ashen with dread, her eyes wide with unspoken fear. She scarcely had a moment to process the unfolding chaos before dozens of piercing light bullets slammed into her, their relentless force overwhelming her with brutal speed.

With her final breath, a chilling realization washed over her: the true extent of her own arrogance. In those last fleeting moments, she couldn't help but think, 'I should never have provoked the Home of the Devil Fruits!'

As darkness consumed her, she was overwhelmed by the grim realization that even The Hand, with its boundless resources and immortal leaders, stood no chance against the monstrous power of Rosh.

*Thud!*

Madame Gao's lifeless body hit the floor with a dull thud, her once commanding presence now reduced to nothing more than a fallen figure. And so, in the span of mere moments, every member of The Hand present was annihilated. Not a single one remained standing.

The room fell into an eerie silence. The air grew heavy with tension and disbelief as Wilson Fisk's men stood frozen, staring at Rosh in stunned awe. To them, he was no longer merely a shopkeeper; he had transformed into something far greater—a living legend, a god among men.

"So this is the shopkeeper's power... How terrifying!" Even Fisk, the Kingpin himself, felt his usually unshakable composure begin to crack, his calm exterior faltering under the crushing weight of what he had just witnessed. Even Bullseye and Vanessa stood in stunned silence, their faces drained of color as they struggled to process the sheer magnitude of Rosh's power.

Rosh had shown them what true power truly meant in that fleeting moment. It wasn't merely extraordinary; it defied all logic, surpassing anything they had ever imagined. Not even the most legendary mutants could hold a candle to this staggering display.

"Fisk." Rosh's voice cut through the heavy silence, snapping Fisk out of his daze and pulling him back to reality.

"Y-Yes, Shopkeeper?" Fisk stammered, his voice trembling ever so slightly, his reverence for Rosh now unmistakably clear. If Fisk had once respected Rosh for the enigma of his mysterious shop, he now feared him for the overwhelming power he commanded.

"Separate the bodies of Gao, Murakami, Bakuto, and Shin," Rosh commanded coldly. "Burn them to ash. That should ensure they cannot be revived."

Though the canon hadn't explicitly confirmed this method, Rosh was certain. Without physical remains, revival would be impossible. After all, they weren't spirits—they needed bodies to return.

"Understood, Shopkeeper!" Fisk replied without hesitation, his tone now filled with unwavering respect. He wasted no time, swiftly commanding his men to execute the task efficiently and urgently. As the bodies were swiftly removed, Fisk turned back to Rosh, his expression serious and earnest.

"Shopkeeper, I'll never forget what you've done for me today. If there's ever anything you need, no matter the cost, I, Wilson Fisk, will do everything in my power to assist you!" Fisk's gratitude and newfound allegiance were evident, his words carrying the weight of a solemn promise. 

He did this because, first, Rosh had saved them from certain death—a fate they could not have escaped otherwise. Second, aligning himself with someone of Rosh's caliber was undeniably the wisest course of action, ensuring both his survival and future advantage.

Rosh merely nodded, his expression indifferent. "This is your mess. Clean it up," he said flatly before his body once again transformed into radiant light.

*Swoosh!*

He shot out of the shattered window like a golden comet, disappearing into the night.

It was as if he had never been there at all.

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Next Chapter: The Arrival of Nick Fury

Next Next Chapter: A Devil Fruit Highly Favored by Nick Fury

Next Next Next Chapter: Maximizing Fury's Single Eye

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