Super Polymerization.
Anyone who's ever watched Yu-Gi-Oh! GX or played the game seriously has heard those two words. In certain dueling circles, its reputation even overshadows the legendary Egyptian God Cards. It's more than a card, it's a symbol.
The strongest Fusion Spell in the GX era.
Amagi Hikaru stared at the card in his hand, and for a moment.
Super Polymerization, in the original anime, was absurdly overpowered. It didn't just fuse monsters. It could fuse dimensions. It could forcibly merge humans and Duel Spirits into one entity.
It was the apex of Fusion Magic, so broken, it made even the ancient spells used to summon the Sacred Beasts look like stage tricks.
Hikaru didn't hesitate.
He snatched up the nearby Duel Disk, slid Super Polymerization into the Spell & Trap Zone, and activated it.
The disk whirred to life.
It worked.
It actually activated.
He stared, wide-eyed. Then his gaze shifted to the desk beside him. He hesitated. Slowly, he raised a hand and pointed.
"Fuse the pencil and the eraser?"
As the words left his mouth, a strange sensation surged through him, something left his body. His skin prickled. His breath caught. His brain buzzed with static.
He stumbled back and snatched up a nearby water bottle, gulping down half of it in one go.
When he finally dared to look again—
The pencil and eraser on the desk were now one.
A perfectly fused 2B pencil with a rubber tip.
His eyes twitched.
"It… actually worked?!"
He slapped both hands to his head, nearly knocking himself over.
A stream of information suddenly flooded into his mind.
This Super Polymerization card got to be the sole reason he had come into this world!
It wasn't just a Super Polymerization card.
It was the real thing.
The ultimate fusion magic, capable of bending the rules of the game and reality.
Super Polymerization didn't just bring him to this world, it fused his old life, his soul, and this new existence into one.
He blinked at the card again.
There was a huge gap between fusing pencils and erasers and fusing the entire world into a cosmic being… but who in their right mind would complain about a cheat this broken?
This was one of the most powerful artifacts in all of Yu-Gi-Oh! lore.
Still breathless, Hikaru shoved a protein bar into his mouth, slumped into a chair, and forced himself to calm down. Slowly, his thoughts turned away from raw excitement and back to cold logic.
As amazing as it was to own a deck filled with high-grade Fusion Spells…
He had no monsters.
Not a single one.
What was he supposed to fuse? His socks?
No matter how powerful Fusion Destiny or Red-Eyes Fusion might be, they were dead draws without Fusion Materials. Right now, his deck was all magic and no substance.
Downstairs, he could hear the commotion.
The Fusion cultists were at it again, preaching about the glory of Fusion Summoning and staging "Exhibition Matches" for anyone who would watch.
His temple throbbed.
He had almost forgotten about them.
This bizarre worldline he'd landed in wasn't purely GX. It had threads of ARC-V tangled in its DNA. The Duel Academy was filled with overzealous students who worshipped Fusion like it was gospel. Even though his body's previous owner hadn't been one of the extremists, he had clearly admired Fusion.
If things keep going the way they are, Hikaru was pretty sure these so-called "Fusion supremacists" would end up as a roaming pack of duelists lugging around Ancient Gear Hound decks, storming blindly into other dimensions like Xyz, Synchro, and who-knows-what next.
But this isn't A5. What if the XYZ dimension is actually Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal? With these Fusion-obsessed people who have nothing else, could they really compete against Yuma Tsukumo, Shark, and Kaito?
What would happen if their invasion failed and instead triggered retaliation from the other side, with hundreds of elite duelists flooding in?
Now that would be hilarious.
The final boss of Yu-Gi-Oh! GX was already one of the most embarrassing bosses in history, who somehow almost destroyed the world. If it were someone like a thousand-year overlord, it would make duelists from other worlds laugh themselves to death.
In short: this world was way more dangerous than it looked. Just because he had a broken card like Super Polymerization, that didn't mean he could afford to slack off.
This was a world where peace was a distant memory.
Still watching the fusion fanatics rallying outside his dorm, an idea hit him.
"Fusion is the noblest summoning method," they shouted.
You know what? Sure. He could get behind that.
"That's right, brother!" Hikaru muttered, his tone serious but his smirk wide. "Fusion is absolutely the noblest summoning method!"
With renewed enthusiasm, he began rummaging through the leftover cards in his deck box, trying to piece together something that could actually function in a duel.
The previous deck, if you could call it that, was technically built around Fusion. But in practice? It was a trainwreck of mismatched materials. Actually pulling off a summon required either divine intervention or the dealer taking pity on him during a hand shuffle.
Aside from financial constraints, Hikaru could only think of one explanation for how his predecessor built something this bad:
He didn't understand Fusion at all.
Some people thought Fusion was just a matter of two monsters and a spell card.
Wrong.
Among Yu-Gi-Oh! veterans, there was a classic joke that made its way into every forum, every local, every ranked chatbox:
"Fusion is the noblest summoning method."
Yeah, it was kind of a meme.
But also? It wasn't entirely wrong.
It's true that Fusion was often seen as slow or complex. But generation after generation, Fusion-based decks continued to dominate the meta, bursting into new archetypes, inventing new mechanics, and constantly proving that the right fusion combo could obliterate an entire field.
There was a reason iconic decks, from Elemental HERO to Branded Despia, never went out of style.
So honestly, Hikaru didn't mind being lumped in with the Fusion fanboys.
The reason Fusion is so often mocked as the "noblest" summoning method?
It has more tricks than a magician with a side hustle.
Fusion from the deck, Fusion from the graveyard, Dimensional Fusion, Fusion from the hand or graveyard back to the deck, fusion with the opponents' stuff directly on the field, and so on, Fusion monsters have countless summoning methods.
This is where the "nobility" of Fusion Summon lies.
"It's time," Hikaru said aloud, smirking. "Time to show them what Fusion really means."
That's when the idea struck him.
The academy's Fusion extremist group allowed new recruits to borrow starter decks. One of them was a simplified Ancient Gear deck.
It wasn't a full-power Ancient Gear archetype, of course. Just a beginner's variant used to teach new duelists the mechanics of Fusion Summoning.
This deck would be useless for "experts" and "top students."
But for him, a guy whose current deck consisted entirely of Fusion Spells and Traps with zero monsters, this wasn't a step down.
It was a temporary power-up.
As for joining the Fusion Army and the possibility of being "controlled" or "indoctrinated"...
Please.
Hikaru almost laughed.
A flurry of knowledge stirred in his head. Memories and scattered lore from both this world and the shows he used to watch came together.
The Fusion Army was formed by students under Professor Leo Akaba, a fusion purist obsessed with converting duelists from all other dimensions into Fusion-only users. In Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V, that guy was the ultimate villain. The villain among villains. Final boss material. The kind of guy who didn't just want to defeat you, he wanted to rewrite your existence as a Fusion summon.
Compared to that, the version here seemed… almost reasonable.
At least they weren't turning people into cards. Yet.
But here's the kicker.
Amagi Hikaru was more extreme than all of them.
His deck?
Literally only Fusion Spell and Trap Cards.
Not a single monster. No backup plan. No side deck. Just raw fusion energy.
There's no rule saying the leader of a cult has to be its founder.
If Leo Akaba could lead the Fusion Army, then why couldn't he?
He clenched his fist, eyes gleaming with mock-righteous fire.
"I'm signing up today. Long live the Fusion Army!"