Hate Me, Witch! - Chapter 117: My Body and Soul Belong to Him Alone

Raziel died a saint, slaughtered in his own cathedral the moment a Player fell from the sky, labeled his world a “Server,” and reduced him to nothing more than a prologue NPC.His final act of faith didn’t stop the massacre... but it did shatter the rules of the Game.[ITEM USED: RESURRECTION TOKEN][INITIATING REGRESSION PROTOCOL…][SAVE POINT FOUND: 4 YEARS BEFORE THE PLAYER ARRIVAL]Raziel wakes up in his fifteen-year-old body, memories fragmented, but with one absolute certainty: the Game Over is inevitable.To the Church, he remains the perfect novice; to the Player, he is just another NPC.But this time, he will wield his faith like a heretical System: recruiting the future sacrificial lambs, twisting miracles into weapons, and becoming the Hidden Boss of the very world that once discarded him.If this world sees him as mere filler... Raziel will turn his faith into the heresy that crashes the Server.

In a world where warriors and mages wield incredible power to battle monsters and conquer dungeons, Leon was just another hopeful teenager awaiting his awakening. At eighteen, he stepped forward to touch the Awakening Orb, dreaming of a legendary class—perhaps a powerful Mage or a fearsome Warrior.But fate had other plans.[You have awakened the F-Rank Class: Necromancer][Your subclass is: Zombie Lord]The world sneered. Necromancy was a taboo, a weak class fit for those who couldn't survive real combat. Zombies? Nothing more than mindless, slow-moving corpses. With no future in sight, Leon was cast aside as a failure.Until he actually used his ability.[Select Your Zombie Type]— Warrior Zombie— Mage Zombie— Healer ZombieUnlike traditional necromancers, Leon’s system let him create and customize zombies—giving them skills, equipping them with weapons, and even allowing them to evolve. With the right combination of magic, strategy, and firepower, his undead army could be unstoppable.Armed with a mana-powered magic gun, Leon fights alongside his growing legion of enhanced zombies, proving that an F-Rank class can become the most terrifying existence in the world.The dungeons will fall.The strong will kneel.And soon… the world will know the name Leon, The Zombie Lord

Hello, welcome to join the scp foundation, as a D-level personnel, you will get the following benefits:

First, you will get a unique identification number printed on your brand new orange clothes (prison uniform), such as D-213.

That’s not enough, you will also get a brand new name, which you will use to communicate with each other in the future! Like Billy-D.

As a D-Class, you just have to satisfy your superiors, and they’re good guys with guns! They will help you to have friendly interactions with all kinds of safe creatures (help the ten-meter killer lizard clean the room)

In order to protect your health at all times, our infirmary is always open, even if your work here is as easy as taking a walk!

When you’re done with a D-Class for a month, you can go home (and be shot), no matter what prisoner you were-

Don’t wait any longer, come and join scp!

- Description from novelbuddy

[40,000 Words Before Lock-In] [R-18] [No NTR] [Smut] [Legal Teens] [Single MILFs] [Feisty GILFs] [Dangerously Funny]Renowned worldwide as Everyman, Joji Sins dominated the adult industry for decades, winning Best Adult Actor four years straight from 2010 to 2028, and building a strange kind of public love through quiet philanthropy despite his dirty reputation.Thirty years later, Joji is seventy seven, nearly completely deaf, and no longer in front of the camera. He did not get washed away. He retired into power instead, directing the scenes himself and still going strong.On the side, he even earned a proper medical license and became a real doctor.Then one ordinary day turns cruel. A broken light bulb. A ladder slip. A back that almost snapped wrong.The hospital discharges him three days later like he is already finished.His stomach grumbled after being in such a gloomy environment. A hotdog for a dollar across the road. Not too bad of a deal.After almost getting hit by a rearing armored truck, he got his change from a fan.Fucking finally you thought? Wrong.A runaway truck hurtles toward him.Joji breathes in relief. He is alive, just scraped up, glass shards biting into his wrinkled skin.Then something sprays his face. The stink is sharp, hard alcohol. His eyes track the source. Unleaded gasoline is gushing nearby.“Mother fu...”...Joji gasps and wakes. An unfamiliar bed. Gaudy ceiling ornaments. Steel clashing outside. A splitting headache.Memories that are not his punching through his skull. As he reaches for reality, a cold presence snaps into place before his eyes.{Welcome, good Sir Joji of Sins.}