May 4th, 2012.
New York City, Midtown Manhattan, Frieza Tower's top floor.
The view from here was sublime: a breathtaking panorama of New York's relentless, bustling life.
Now, outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, a catastrophe unfolded—a "blockbuster" spectacle that multi-million dollar budget Hollywood movies couldn't even hope to match.
A colossal, pulsating wormhole had ripped open above the Stark Tower. Countless Chitauri soldiers, piloting their crude flying chariots, swarmed out like metallic flies, relentlessly bombing the city below.
Frieza, clad in an expensive, hand-tailored Italian suit, stood before the window. One hand rested casually in his pocket, the other held a glass of fine red wine. His dazzling blonde hair shone intensely in the glow of the distant fires.
He murmured, taking a slow sip of wine, "Tsk, the craftsmanship on these Chitauri ships is painfully crude."
"Compared to the movie version, this is like the difference between a cheap knockoff and the genuine thing."
Watching the continuous explosions, Frieza felt no fear. His eyes held only the amused mockery of a man watching a predictable show. He even felt a smile tugging at his lips.
As a transmigrator who knew the complete plot, a scene like this was nothing more than a minor spectacle for him.
Although his name was the same as a certain Emperor of the Universe, he was a genuine Earthling, the son of a farmer at that.
When he had first arrived into this world, he'd foolishly dreamed of becoming invincible just by sunbathing, like Superman. Reality, however, delivered a brutal slap to him.
This was Marvel: the poor relied on mutation, and the rich relied on technology.
He hadn't been bitten by a radioactive spider, nor did he possess the engineering genius for an iron suit.
No body of steel, no superpower of money—what was he supposed to do?
His mind was his only asset. He had the entire MCU timeline stored in his head.
He remembered that after Tony Stark returned from the cave, he would impulsively announce the closure of the weapons division, causing Stark Industries' stock price to plummet.
That was the opportunity of a lifetime. So he sold everything, even mortgaging his father's farm, and went all-in on that stock wave.
What happened after that was obvious: Tony shouted, "I AM IRON MAN," and the stock price shot up like a rocket.
Just like that, Frieza had secured his first fortune.
With money, things became simple. In the following years, he thrived in the New York real estate market, specifically buying properties in areas that seemed insignificant in the plot but were guaranteed to appreciate later.
In just a few years, the name Frieza had become the gold standard in New York real estate.
"Keep fighting." He chuckled, watching Thor swing his hammer and lure a massive Leviathan beast away.
Saving the world was exhausting work, he'd leave that to the Avengers and the rest of the superheroes. He just needed to sit in his office, drink wine, wait to make another killing during the post-war reconstruction, and perhaps arrange a date with a blonde bombshell or a Victoria's Secret model in the evening to soothe his 'frightened' spirit.
This was the life a transmigrator ought to have.
However—
The very next second, his elegant smile froze.
BOOM!
With a deafening crash, Hulk, acting like a rampaging bulldozer, grabbed a Chitauri soldier and smashed him violently into a nearby building.
That building...
Wait!
Wasn't that the commercial plaza he had just acquired?!
The wine glass in Frieza's hand trembled.
Before he could finish agonizing, a thick laser beam descended from the sky, slicing the luxury hotel next door clean in half.
That was his five-star hotel!
He had just cut the ribbon last week!
"What the hell!" Frieza couldn't help but roar, his elegant image instantly shattering.
This script is wrong! They didn't show this part in the movie!
Weren't these buildings just supposed to be background props? Why are they all collapsing?
Next, a scene that made him even more distraught unfolded.
A Leviathan plummeted from the sky. Its enormous body crashed down and instantly pulverized the glittering skyscraper in the distance.
That was the Golden Tower!
His largest casino stake was inside that building!
"I'm finished..."
The wine glass fell from Frieza's numb fingers, shattering on the floor. The crimson liquid spilled across the expensive carpet, mirroring the bleeding state of his heart.
Looking out, every single one of his properties—malls, hotels, casinos—was basically smoking wreckage. By a rough estimate, at least 70% of his assets had been reduced to ruins by this attack wave.
This wasn't the Battle of New York, this was clearly targeted poverty alleviation aimed specifically at Frieza.
Forget being a real estate mogul. Tomorrow, the bank would be knocking on his door.
He might have to sleep under a bridge. Years of hard work, wiped out in a single day.
He was worse off than when he started, at least then he had a farm. Now, what did he have besides debt?
"Damn the Chitauri! Damn the Avengers!"
A surge of fury shot straight from his heart to the top of his skull.
These bastards wiped out all his money!
How was he supposed to pick up girls? How was he supposed to enjoy life?
Just as Frieza was so furious he wanted to jump out the window and fight these alien scumbags to the death, a cold, mechanical voice echoed in his mind.
[Ding! Detecting extreme rage from the Host. Villain System activating...]
[Binding successful!]
[Congratulations, Host! You have received the Starter Pack: Frieza Template (First Form)!]
A System?
Frieza froze for a moment, then his eyes burst forth with the light of pure ecstasy.
He knew it!
How could a transmigrator not have a cheat?
Although this cheat was twenty years late, good things were worth waiting for.
Frieza? The Emperor of the Universe? The progenitor of real estate developers who blew up planets on a whim?
"Claim it! Claim it immediately!" Frieza roared in his heart.
Boom!
A terrifying, indescribable power instantly flooded his limbs and bones. There was no painful transformation process, only pure, innate strength, as if he had been born this noble and this powerful.
Frieza—no, he should be called the true Emperor of the Universe now.
He slowly closed his eyes, sensing the surging Ki within him. When he opened them again, a trace of heart-stopping crimson flashed deep within his formerly blue pupils.
His already handsome face now held an indescribable aura of sinister charm and chilling coldness.
[Current Template: Frieza (First Form)]
[Power Level: 530,000]
[Abilities: Death Beam, Psychic Powers, Death Ball, Space Survival Capability...]
[Advancement Method: Collect "Fear Points" and perform Frieza-like actions to unlock Second Form, Third Form... up to Black Frieza!]
530,000 Power Level!
Frieza looked at the number, a cruel yet elegant curve appearing at the corner of his lips.
In a world like Dragon Ball, where gods and angels and whatnot flew everywhere, 530,000 might only count as an early-game boss.
But this was the MCU—Marvel Cinematic Universe!
In the older Dragon Ball settings, a Power Level of a few hundred was enough to destroy the moon, and ten thousand could blow up Earth. What did his 530,000 Power Level mean here?
If it were Marvel comics, where Multiverse-level deities appeared constantly, he might still have to tread carefully. But this group of "trash fighters" in the cinematic universe?
He basically existed on another dimension from them.
Apart from the Ancient One, who was always talking mysteriously, who might be slightly tricky, what were any of the others?
The Hulk? Just a savage brute who only knew how to smash things. Could he withstand one Death Beam?
Thor, the God of Thunder? That hammer god, who hadn't even awakened yet, probably couldn't even catch his exhaust fumes.
As for Thanos? Without the Gauntlet, he could rub that purple head into the ground.
Frieza walked up to the shattered floor-to-ceiling window, letting the fierce high-altitude winds mess up his blonde hair.
He looked down at the swaggering Chitauri airships and the culprits who had destroyed his assets and driven him into bankruptcy.
He smiled. His smile was utterly chilling and supremely arrogant.
"Since I can't be a New York real estate mogul anymore..."
Frieza extended a finger, and a blinding point of purplish-red light condensed at the tip.
"Then I suppose I'll reluctantly take up Lord Frieza's old profession."
"The title 'Cosmic Real Estate Developer' sounds far more exciting than 'New York's Richest Man.'"
"Oh ho ho ho..."