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Shameless Wife Exiled with Shameless Cannon Fodder System

souryourer
………………………… Cover image did not belong to me All these things would be with 18+ characters only so please don’t imagine strange things and cause me trouble. By the way, I accept suggestions but not negative comments that can spoil my mood, if you don’t like my work please leave instead of wasting my time. ……………………………… Apocalypse, spirit energy recovery, exile, space, cannon fodder, shameless to the core, “Wait… Wait…. This is not real… Why am I in the ancient story of a different country? Yes I read that book where the heroine wears the book by why am I wearing her book? Even my name is different from the character I just took on. Wait no they are the same. My name is Mohini which means an enchantress and the name here is Nuwu which also means enchantress. Also it is exile drama nonsense with the raise of the book wearing heroine. By the way how did I die? It should be that old fashioned vibrator with directly electric connection was electric taped by me. It should be my love juices that connected to the open wires. It should be one hell of a shock to send me here. That is not the point here. I am a mini cannon fodder villainess that was hated by my husband and mother in law because a soldier touched by body in the name of checking before exile. By the way I am still a newlywed wife that was married less than a month ago. Well the hands of the soldier are much rougher than my wimpy husband. But why should I show this hatred on the book wearing heroine? The original heroine already lost her come back chance because of the butter fly effect of the book wearing heroine. Should I mess with them? But it is useless. By the way, where is my golden finger?” “I am here host” A husky lewd female voice sounded in her mind. “What kind of system are you.” “I am a Shameless Cannon Fodder System host.” “Oh, do you think I am shameless.” “Of course” “Then I will not mess with those heroines, will I be punished by you? “No host, you can do anything you want. I believe in your shamelessness and lewdness… we are a perfect match you know…” Nuwu (Mohini): speechless…. Is it flirting with me, not that I care. “Well it really knows me well, but so what things will be the same any way.” If a woman has many men she will be called a slut or a whore, will a man that has many women be called a male slut? …………………….. This world will have apocalypse and more cultivation world with more than 1 heroine in the story By the way this will be the first volume and based on the response from my good readers, there will be continuation. If not I will break it at the end of the volume. ………………………………… This novel contains exhibitionism, nudity, intercourse, cheating, cuckold, humiliation, bitches, sluts, whores, netorare (NTR), netorase and many things. Read it at your own risk. …………………………………
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Forged in Chaos: A Transmigrator’s Tale in the DC Universe

Waking up in an alleyway in Gotham City was not how Ethan Reyes expected his day to start. The last thing he remembered was crashing on his couch after a long gaming session, only to find himself in a world he recognized all too well—one filled with gods, monsters, and vigilantes dressed as bats. It took him a moment to realize the city wasn’t just a detailed dream. The distant sirens, the oppressive skyline, and the neon flicker of a nearby ACE Chemicals sign confirmed it. This was Gotham. And that was bad. Then came the pain. It burned through his veins like molten fire before settling into his fingertips. A strange, instinctual urge filled his mind. His gaze landed on the dumpster beside him. Scattered around were a broken switchblade and a rusty pipe. Before he could think, his hands moved on their own, touching both objects. A pulse of energy surged through him, and suddenly, the two items fused—the broken switchblade now embedded itself within the pipe like a makeshift spear. "Holy—What the hell was that?" Experimenting further, he picked up a discarded smartphone and a pair of cheap sunglasses. Another pulse of power, and—bam—a pair of futuristic-looking AR glasses now rested in his hands, displaying HUD information in his vision. That was when it clicked. He had a power—an ability that allowed him to fuse objects together. The results? Unpredictable. Some combinations worked beautifully, while others... not so much. And in a world where Batman, Superman, and the Joker roamed, a power like this was both a blessing and a curse. Survival in Gotham Ethan quickly learned that Gotham was not kind to the weak. Without money or connections, he had to rely on his ability to survive. His first breakthrough came when he fused a lockpick set with a stolen smartwatch—creating a device that could crack digital locks. He used it to raid an abandoned weapons stash, arming himself with gear of his own making. He also experimented with weapons. A standard pistol fused with a flashlight? Now it fired tracer rounds that illuminated targets. A crowbar fused with an electric baton? A shock club capable of stunning enemies. But Gotham was filled with predators. And soon, they noticed him. The Underworld Calls Word spread fast about a "mystic craftsman" who could create bizarre but powerful items. The underworld took interest. First came the low-level thugs, hoping to use him for their own gain. Then came the bigger players. The Penguin wanted to recruit him. Black Mask wanted to own him. And the Joker? He just wanted to see what happened if Ethan fused a grenade with a rubber chicken. It was Batman who intervened first. The Dark Knight, ever the strategist, saw the potential of Ethan’s abilities. But he also saw the danger. In the right hands, Ethan could change the landscape of warfare. In the wrong hands? He could unleash nightmares. The question was—whose hands would he end up in? Survive or Be Consumed As the months passed, Ethan found himself walking a razor’s edge. If he wanted to thrive, he had to be smart. He had to stay ahead of both heroes and villains, mastering his power before someone forced him into a corner. Because in Gotham, there were only two kinds of people: Those who adapted. And those who became stories whispered in the dark.
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