Infinite Competitive Dungeon Society - Chapter 123: You in the World of Sunset (1)

Seven days remained until the countdown to genetic mutation.Seven days later, all creatures on Earth would undergo mutations. Giant mutated creatures would swarm and attack humanity, putting their fate in jeopardy. The entire Earth would be ruled by these mutated beings!Yang Xiao accidentally walked into a genetic store where various gene potions were sold, capable of altering human body functions.From that moment on, he embarked on a crazy journey of genetic evolution.

In the Wild Westlands, the Sanctuary of Spirits is the base for the elite Celestial Beast Sect. “”Hurry, Huang Yingyan, or we’ll lose our chance at the best Divine Pets!”” Tang Jinghuan urges, pulling his friend in a time-critical dash.Huang Yingyan, who overslept from the thrill of gaining a mysterious system and the Omniscient Eye skill, falsely blames his delay on Tang Jinghuan. This skill lets him see the untapped potential in divine pets, essential for aspiring Beastmasters.In their excitement, they reach the selection, where Huang Yingyan’s skill initially finds no special pets—until a unique, snow-white cub draws his attention, neither tiger nor lion, with a somber air.As they face their choices, anticipation hangs thick. Can Huang Yingyan’s skill reveal the cub’s mystery, changing his destiny as a Beastmaster?

BLURB> He was reborn by mistake. Raised with purpose. Loved by a god. Worshipped by monsters. And the galaxy doesn’t stand a fucking chance.Irvine’s soul took one wrong turn through the wheel of karma and woke up in a body grown by an intergalactic hivemind goddess with boundary issues and galaxy-sized ambition. Now he’s the golden child of a psychic swarm that feeds on control and burns whole worlds for affection.With Crystal at the helm, warriors like Kimchi, relic-weapons like Kiya, and a council of psionic horrors eager to call him king, Irvine must choose what kind of god he wants to be.Because when a hivemind learns to love......it doesn’t know when to stop.The universe will kneel—or get devoured trying.SYNOPSISIrvine didn’t ask to be reincarnated, but the cosmos had other plans. And it didn’t hand him a cheat code or a clean slate—just one random boon, selected by an uncaring divine roulette wheel.Good karma? Bad karma? Balanced as all fuck.Now he's reborn in the body of a psionically tuned alien hybrid, raised from psychic infancy by Crystal, the hivemind queen of a race so advanced they’ve abandoned individuality for shared omniscience. All except her baby boy.Irvine is the singularity inside the swarm, the first soul allowed to think, dream, and desire independently. Trained by warriors like Kimchi, advised by bio-symbiotes like Kiya, loved ferociously by hive sisters like Diane, and shadowed by powers ancient and unnamed, Irvine is both weapon and wielder, saint and sacrifice.But empires don’t run on hugs and handjobs. As Crystal expands her dominion—across star systems and sentient nebulae—Irvine must lead the charge through blood, fire, and psionic flame.His soul is still human. His body? Engineered for extinction. His heart? Not entirely his anymore.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”