Quick Transmigration Homewrecker System

At the end of 2044, a start of new technological development took place, the cyborg mechanism. A world filled with the hazards and threats of global destruction started, along with the start of the war with an unknown alien species. The story starts after 89 years, in modern India, the protagonist is a 12-year-old, poor, spectacle-wearing, goofy-looking person trying to find a way to change the way the world sees him. He finds a way to do it, with a help of a system that he accidentally acquires while researching. Will he accept the system and its pledge to make his wish come true and save the world? Let's see. __________________________________________________________________________ Contact Email:gginokelvin26@gmail.com Instagram: gino kelvin Discord: Gino Kelvin#3569 https://discord.gg/QgGpErQf _______________________________________________________________________________

My wife, who had always despised lugging around keys, ditched our modern smart lock for a clunky old-school key version. She even bolted it shut during showers. Every time I returned from work, I'd have to ring her up first. Fed up, I slapped the divorce agreement on the table during a family get-together. Everyone assumed I was drunk and joking. My wife hauled off and cracked me across the face. "Am I asking too much? You promised you'd indulge me forever." I met her glare with icy indifference and let out a bitter scoff. "Aren't I divorcing you and never returning the ultimate indulgence?"

I'm on my way to get married when a truck slams into my car from behind. After being unconscious for a long time, I hear the doctor telling my fiancee that I might lose my memory. I decide to have a little fun and open my eyes, pretending to be confused. "Who are you?" My fiancee goes completely still. I'm about to admit I'm only teasing her, but before I can, she grabs my best man's hand without a second thought. "I'm Janice Lloyd, your best friend's fiancee. You got into a car accident on your way to our wedding."

After obtaining the Mech Designer System, Ves aims to create the greatest mechs in the galaxy! In the far future, the galactic human civilization has entered the Age of Mechs. The countless lesser powers of humanity have come to adopt mechs as their main weapons of war. Only a small number of humans have the right genetic aptitude to pilot these destructive war machines the size of buildings. Born to a military family in the edge of the galaxy, Ves Larkinson is one of the many people who lacks the talent to earn glory in battle. Instead, he became a mech designer. Helped by his missing father, Ves has obtained the mysterious Mech Designer System that can help him rise in the galaxy and beyond. His mechs based on the principles of life quickly allows him to rise to prominence. Powerful and highly compatible with mech pilots, his products have the potential to take the market by storm. However, success does not come easily, and countless challenges bar his ability to sell his mechs to a market eager for innovation! With the sins of the human race in the galactic arena slowly catching up, Ves must navigate the perils of the ultra-competitive mech market and maintain control over his growing organization of misfits. This is the golden age of mechs. This is the golden age of humanity. The question is, will it last? "Any challenge can be overcome as long as I design the right mech!"

Nine years ago, Charlotte Green willingly bound herself to a companionship system to save her sister. The system guided her to the side of Eric Lorvis, a man adored by fate and envied by the world. Her role, as dictated, was to pursue him under the guise of being mute. Before long, everyone in their social circle knew of the mute woman who loved Eric with a fervor bordering on madness. At a gathering one evening, he finally relented. "If you make yourself look like Emily, I'll allow you to stay by my side." Without hesitation, Charlotte borrowed money to undergo plastic surgery. She reshaped herself to resemble Emily Spencer—Eric's first love. With painstaking precision, she molded her preferences to match his, learned to cook his favorite dishes, and catered to his every need. Yet to him, she was no more than a housekeeper. He neither hid his disdain nor spared her his indifference. His insults, his cold stares—she bore them all in silence. She didn't care. As long as she fulfilled her task, the day would come when she could finally leave this world behind. However, when Charlotte truly died, the cold and aloof Eric, who had always appeared so composed in front of others, lost his mind...

I suspected my husband was a detached ascetic. Every night, he'd skip to the backyard, muttering prayers under the stars instead of sharing our bed. When I slipped into something slinky, he'd frown and clutch his prayer beads like a lifeline. Now I was done with the cold shoulder, slapping a divorce agreement in his hands. That was when his thoughts started leaking into my head. "She touched me. Her hands are like silk. I'm dying to kiss her. When is she gonna be okay with me being a snake? I just want to cuddle her." "A snake?" I thought. "Does that mean he's packing two things? I have to find out." I leered at his chiseled frame, practically drooling. Before divorcing, I needed to test his things and my limits. I tripped purposefully and fell onto his toned pecs, ready to test the waters. "Whoops!" I gasped, setting the stage.

In the third year after my death, the one who remained faithfully by my wife's side was still the bionic robot I had painstakingly designed. It looked exactly like me and carried within it every detail of my mannerisms, speech, and habits. The only difference was that it never lost its temper with her. Because of that, my wife never sensed anything amiss. Yet each night, she brought home a different man, deliberately testing "me," desperate to see the wild jealousy and rage I once wore so vividly. Then, one day, her childhood sweetheart and first love, shoved "me" off the balcony. It was only then, in her horror, that my wife realized… "I" didn't bleed.

On Valentine’s Day, someone stabbed my mother-in-law twenty times until she died. So, I took the murderer to court. My wife was a renowned lawyer, but she decided to defend him. I confronted her in anger, but she casually replied, “Derek’s younger brother is still a college student. Can’t you be a little more forgiving? “I’ll bring Derek and his younger brother along to visit your mother’s grave. Drop the charges. Don’t let this go to trial and embarrass me when you lose the case.” Looking at the mangled corpse full of stabbing wounds, I could not help but let out a bark of laughter. It looked like she was still unaware that the corpse was actually her own mother.

On the day that was supposed to be my wedding—the bride wasn’t me. The ceremony I’d waited for five years for turned into a joke when Valentina, my sister, walked down the marble aisle in a white wedding dress. Her arm was linked with Luca’s — the man who was supposed to be waiting for me at the altar. “I’m sorry, Bianca,” she said softly. “But you are no longer the bride today.” Then she touched her stomach, eyes gleaming with triumph. “I’m pregnant with Don Romano’s child.” Her words detonated inside my skull, and the whole world went silent. As if afraid I wouldn’t believe her, she lifted something glossy up towards the light. A black-and-white ultrasound image. It read clearly: Gestational age — 12 weeks. My eyes burned, tears stinging as I turned to Luca, desperately searching for anything—a denial, an explanation, regret. Instead, he only sighed, weary and resigned. “Bianca, I’m sorry.” he said helplessly. “Valentina doesn’t have much time left. This wedding… it was her last wish.” “I’ll make it up to you,” he added. “We can have another wedding later.” My father, Moretti, stood behind him, wearing the same stern expression he’d worn my entire life. I have never seen him smile at me, not even once. “Bianca,” he said sharply, “Your sister is dying. Let her have this.” My brother nodded without saying a single word, as if that was enough to be a solid answer. All my life, they had chosen her—her tears, her whims, her needs—over mine. Today was no different. Something inside me quietly cracked. Fine. If no one in this family cares about me, I’ll leave.

Fresh out of the National Research Institute, I loaded up on my wife's favorite snacks and ordered a vibrant bouquet of roses, eager to surprise her. I stashed the treats in her office, then stepped out to grab the flowers. But in those fleeting minutes, a stranger had ripped open every package and devoured everything. I glared at him. "Who gave you permission to touch those?" He shot me a look of pure disdain. "Buzz off, flower boy. Drop your crap and scram!" The secretary at the door snickered. "You heard the man. He's Ms. Bowman's husband. Better run before he leaves a bad review." I pulled out my phone and called my wife. "Who is this guy in your office?"