"Light, wake up."
"Did he faint from hunger?"
"Nonsense. I'm more concerned about where all this sand in the bedroom came from."
"Maybe he got tired of building sandcastles."
Light was lying in his bed. The layer of fine yellow Titan sand had already been cleaned up. As his consciousness gradually returned, he slowly opened his eyes to see Lorna's face hovering over him, etched with deep concern.
Light pushed himself up, rubbing his throbbing forehead. "How long was I asleep?"
The Ashura Mode was incredibly effective, but the physical backlash was devastating. In addition to a deep, agonizing ache radiating through every bone in his body, he felt a profound, suffocating fatigue. Still, in comparison, it was a massive bargain. He had almost managed to kill Thanos before the main timeline of the universe had even truly begun.
'I, Light Inksworth, almost triggered the grand finale before the opening credits,' he thought with a tired smirk.
"Two full days," Lorna said, finally letting out a breath of relief. She looked at him searchingly. "What exactly happened?"
"That's right! Lorna and I had to order takeout for two whole days! We were so tired of waiting," Gali chimed in, nodding frequently as she held her plump cheeks.
Smack!
"You little glutton," Light said, lightly flicking Gali on the head. He looked at her unbothered, chubby face. If she kept eating like this, he was going to go bankrupt just feeding her.
"I was out saving the world. It's a bitter, thankless job," Light said, tilting his head up at a forty-five-degree angle to feign a look of profound, worldly melancholy.
His thoughts drifted back to the Mad Titan. The Peko Peko Grasshopper was a gag item designed to burrow into the target's nasal cavity and manipulate their emotional state, forcing them to relentlessly apologize. It didn't merge with their biology. If Thanos wanted to get rid of it, the solution was incredibly simple: just sniff some pepper and sneeze it out.
However, Thanos was blinded by his own arrogance. The Titan assumed he had been physically struck in the head and was trying to literally slap the bug out of his skull. It was a terrible strategy. The shockwaves were just battering his own face, while the robotic grasshopper was safely nestled deep inside his sinuses. If that Chitauri commander had survived to offer an objective perspective, the issue would have been resolved in seconds.
Lorna rolled her eyes, her lips curling into an annoyed pout. "Tch. Fine, keep your secrets."
Seeing that Light was physically okay, and remembering Alice's reassurance that his condition was merely caused by extreme fatigue, Lorna turned to leave the bedroom.
As she reached the door, she suddenly stopped and looked back. "Oh, right. Andy came by yesterday morning. When he found you unconscious at your desk, he grabbed the completed manuscripts and went straight to the company to handle the printing."
Light frowned. "Did he see the email with the new publication plan I sent?"
"He saw it," Lorna nodded. "But since you were in a coma, he said it was too risky to overhaul the schedule. He decided to proceed with the original release format."
Light's eyes widened. He hurriedly grabbed Lorna's phone from her hand. His own phone had been reduced to atoms on Titan.
Ring... Ring...
"Andy? It's me. Have you started the print run yet?"
"Light! Thank God you're awake, I was just about to—"
"Don't print anything. Wait for me to get there," Light interrupted firmly. "Yes, I am changing the majority of the plan. The previous schedule is completely invalidated."
Light handed the phone back to Lorna and threw off the covers, getting ready to head out.
Lorna watched him, her brow furrowing with worry. She stepped forward, her hands instinctively reaching out to help him fasten his shirt buttons. "Why are you in such a rush? Your body just recovered."
"Time waits for no one," Light said simply.
He stopped by the study first. The T-800 was still sitting at the drafting table, meticulously working 24 hours a day without a single complaint. Light swapped out the manuscript the Terminator was working on for a different series, then hurried out the door.
Lorna watched Light's retreating back, a strange, sweet feeling fluttering in her chest. For a fleeting second, it felt entirely domestic, like a good wife sending her husband off to work.
Gali ruthlessly shattered the atmosphere. She tugged on Lorna's clothes, putting on a dying, dramatic expression. "Lorna, I'm going to starve to death."
Lorna pursed her lips and let out a long, depressed sigh.
Marvel Entertainment Headquarters
"Kaneki, little brother, this production software is a bit difficult. Could you come over here and teach me? I'll treat you to dinner tonight."
Natasha Romanoff was still actively trying to charm the Ghoul. She leaned over her desk, pulling down a stray lock of her voluminous red hair, her voice pitched to a sultry, inviting purr.
The male employee sitting at the adjacent desk bowed his head low, his legs shifting unnaturally under his desk.
Facing this blatant seduction, Kaneki sat perfectly upright, his eyes glued exclusively to his monitor. "There is no need for dinner. I can teach you later."
His face was a mask of calm professionalism. Internally, he was scowling. 'When it comes to women dressing provocatively to manipulate me, I already suffered enough under Rize. I'm not falling for this.'
In the manga's timeline, Kaneki had been a literature student at Kamii University. He was a genuine academic. Although transitioning into the digital animation and publishing industry involved a steep learning curve, his enhanced cognition allowed him to adapt rapidly.
In the end, Kaneki used a remote desktop application to teach Natasha the software from across the room. Even as Natasha kept trying to manufacture reasons to stand near him, Kaneki remained as immovable as a stone Buddha.
After tossing out bait for the better part of the morning, Natasha retreated to her desk, entirely unsuccessful. She sat back, her expression carefully neutral, but internally she was reeling. No man had ever been able to resist her charm once she set her sights on them.
Ken Kaneki had officially become the first target to completely stonewall her.
"Hey, the Boss is here," an employee murmured as Light walked briskly into the office area. "It's been so long since I've seen him. I almost didn't recognize him."
"The Boss is a pure creator. He delegates the day-to-day operations to Manager Andy," an older employee replied, sipping his coffee. "But he just walked straight into Andy's office. Looks like things are about to change around here."
Natasha's eyes flashed. 'Change?' she thought. 'Could this be a clue?' She had been stuck here for days without a single viable lead.
"Well, why do you say things are going to change just because the boss walked in?" Natasha asked, giving the older employee a flattering, curious smile.
The nearby coders instantly perked up. Eager to impress the office goddess, they began chattering over each other to explain the company's usual operations and Light's rare appearances.
Kaneki continued typing rapidly on his keyboard, his enhanced hearing picking up every word. He shook his head slightly and went back to work.
The company had absolutely no dark secrets. Even if Natasha managed to interrogate Andy, it would be entirely useless. Light had simply placed Kaneki here to act as a decoy and keep the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent occupied while he lived a peaceful life.
The Manager's Office
"Light, what did you just say?!"
The atmosphere in the room was incredibly tense. Andy stood up from behind his mahogany desk, his face flushed with shock.
"Is it too early to start publishing independent volumes?! Light, we are a golden brand right now, but if nobody buys the standalone books, it will be a catastrophic loss!"
Light had just proposed moving directly into printing Tankōbon—individual, standalone graphic novels.
Usually, a Tankōbon was a compilation of chapters that had already been serialized in a weekly magazine, serving as a collector's item for established fans. But what Light needed wasn't a standard compilation; he was proposing an entirely new, hyper-accelerated serialization method.
"No, I don't just want to publish standalone volumes. I also want to completely pull Tokyo Ghoul and Attack on Titan out of the primary weekly rotation."
Light's expression remained perfectly flat. Thanos had forced this change. The Mad Titan had been severely beaten, which meant he would undoubtedly accelerate his plans to collect the Infinity Stones.
Correspondingly, Light had to speed up his own pace. The weekly magazines were too crowded. He couldn't afford to wait for one massive epic to finish its 700-chapter run before starting the next. It was simply too slow.
Andy stared at Light in a daze. "Pull them out? Are you insane?!"
"We will use Shonen Jump and Shonen Sunday as short-term display platforms," Light explained smoothly. "Once a comic reaches fifteen chapters in the magazine, it will transition exclusively to standalone volume releases. Then, we replace that comic's slot in the weekly magazine with a brand new series."
"You... Light, this is dangerous! No one has ever done this!" Andy roared in shock.
Bang!
Andy slammed his hands down on the desk. Outside in the bullpen, the employees jumped, exchanging nervous glances. Natasha narrowed her eyes, trying to listen in through the glass.
"This is reckless! It's a joke!" Andy shouted, his face turning red. "Do you know that doing this will ruin the benchmark of Shonen Jump that we've worked so hard to build?!"
Using a flagship magazine merely as a promotional runway for standalone books was unheard of in the modern comic industry. Standalone books were meant for fans who wanted to own the physical collection. If a reader hadn't read the magazine, buying a full, expensive standalone book was a huge barrier to entry.
Andy felt like Light was treating the art like an assembly line, churning out standalone volumes just to hit chapter counts. It felt like corporate suicide.
"Andy, I know exactly what I am doing," Light said calmly. "And I know exactly what the future of this company requires. I need you to help me execute this."
Light couldn't explain his true motives. Andy was an ordinary man. If Light told him, "The apocalypse is coming, an alien warlord is hunting me, and I need to print manga faster to gain superpowers," Andy wouldn't believe a word of it. If the end of the world was truly coming, drawing cartoons was the most illogical response possible.
Andy stepped around the desk, staring intensely at Light. "Are you serious?"
"Absolutely."
When Andy saw the unwavering determination in Light's eyes, he knew he couldn't persuade him. He didn't own shares in the company; he was just the manager. Light had the final say.
After a long moment of heavy silence, Andy sighed. "Fine. But fifteen chapters is far too short for a transition. I will use thirty chapters as the cutoff for the magazine run. After chapter thirty, it becomes an independent comic."
Light smiled, a genuine expression of relief crossing his face. "That works perfectly, Andy. As long as you understand the goal."
Thirty chapters were more than enough for a manga to establish a rabid fanbase and get on the right track.
"I don't understand this. No one in the modern era operates this way," Andy muttered, rubbing his face. "The only historical precedent is Captain America. It was initially serialized in the newspapers, and later transitioned to a standalone comic book format."
Andy looked grim. "And when they did that, the newspaper circulation dropped. I'm deeply worried that the standalone volumes won't sell, and the magazine will fail."
"If that happens, we're really finished," Andy warned, offering his final piece of advice.
Light chuckled, stepping forward and giving Andy a reassuring hug. "Don't worry. I have a plan to solve the distribution problem."
"Alright. So what's the next step?" Andy asked, adjusting his posture.
Suddenly, the reality of the schedule caught up to him. Andy looked at Light in sheer panic. "Wait. If we're cycling series that fast, you have to draw an impossible amount of comics! Lorna told me you passed out from exhaustion this morning!"
"I absolutely forbid this! The pace is suicidal! You aren't protecting your health at all!"
"Furthermore," Andy added, lowering his voice. "Every single one of these books has your name on it as the sole creator. If you start publishing standalone volumes at this speed, people are going to notice. They're going to think the company is using an army of ghostwriters!"
Light raised an eyebrow. The emotional card didn't affect him—he was a transmigrator, and his original parents in this world were gone. But Andy's second point struck a nerve.
'Attracting attention.'
He thought of Natasha sitting just a few walls away.
This release speed was indeed terrifying. Normally, an artist published one chapter a week. A standalone volume contained about seven or eight chapters. If Light transitioned to rapid standalone releases, his output would look entirely superhuman.
Such a monstrous speed would absolutely trigger massive red flags within S.H.I.E.L.D., who were already watching him.
More importantly, Light suddenly realized a massive flaw in his own Lottery strategy.
Light leaned his forehead against his hand, sitting on the office sofa, deep in thought.
"Andy... let me specify exactly which comics will move to the standalone format."
"Okay," Andy agreed, relieved Light was showing some restraint.
Light realized his brain had been running hot. The purpose of the independent volumes was to accelerate the plot progression so he could pull higher-tier rewards from the Lottery. For example, in Naruto, the Third Hokage didn't display his high-level Ninjutsu in the early chapters. Yet, the System's Lottery had granted him the Hokage's full skill set early, meaning he was spending a massive premium of Fan Values to pull future plot points.
If the manga were serialized up to the Fourth Great Ninja War naturally, those same Ninjutsu skills would drop from a much cheaper lottery pool.
However, accelerating the plot of every comic was useless. Low-power universes like Attack on Titan or Tokyo Ghoul offered no significant upgrades for him at this point. If he rushed them to completion and ended the series, the Fan Value generation would eventually dry up entirely.
Therefore, those specific "low-tier" comics needed to stay on the slow, weekly magazine schedule to act as permanent, long-term passive income.
"Light, have you made up your mind?" Andy asked, looking exhausted. "You keep changing the plan. The printing press is waiting."
"Andy, you convinced me," Light said, spreading his hands helplessly. "I realized my initial idea was flawed."
It was good to have a sounding board. If he had blindly pushed all his series into the accelerated release, his Gacha pool would have become a chaotic mess.
The two of them finalized the strategy: Tokyo Ghoul, Attack on Titan, and Doraemon would be reduced to one episode a week in the magazines. Naruto, Bleach, and One Punch Man would be removed from the magazine after their initial arcs and transition to accelerated, high-volume standalone releases.
After the matter was settled, Light turned to leave. Suddenly, a thought struck him. He looked back at Andy.
"I remember Stark Industries is the number one technology and weapons contractor in the world, right?"
"Uh, I suppose so," Andy replied, confused. "But our comic company has absolutely no contact with the arms industry. What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Light smiled, a calculating glint in his eye. "Since they are the absolute industry leader with branches all over the globe... we should try to establish a corporate partnership with them."
"Partnership?!" Andy stared at him. ⊙▽⊙
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Word count: 2639
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