MTL - I See The Galaxy - Chapter 18 I see

Jang Joonbum started stream to enjoy an easy life.

Warning: This novel contains explicit adult content, violence, and a ruthless anti-hero MC. Read at your own risk.I was the strongest player in the world—until they betrayed me.When I woke up, I wasn’t a player anymore. I was just an NPC. A nameless mob, doomed to be farmed for EXP and discarded like trash.But then, I heard it:(You have been killed.)(Unique Skill Activated: Infinite Resurrection.)(Each death makes you stronger.)Every time a player slaughters me, I steal their stats, their skills, and their power. I evolve beyond the system’s control, beyond the limits of this world.They thought I was nothing.They thought they could use me, farm me, erase me.Now, I am the final boss—and I will make them suffer.On the battlefield, and in my bed.They will submit. One way or another.

In a world of countless enemies, the right talent is all it takes to thrive. Freddy Stern, a twenty-one-year-old cashier, has lived a plain, albeit harsh life. Having been orphaned—twice—he’s spent the last ten years working and staying out of trouble. His only aspiration is to save enough money to become an archhuman. His dream gets the jump on him when he barely survives a near-death encounter and finds himself with 1% Lifesteal, a bizarre talent with numerous contradictions and just as many uses. With every dead enemy, he becomes a bit stronger, a little wiser, and a lot more ruthless. And no matter how much damage he takes, he can always put himself back together. Physically, at least. But on his path to power, after having to look at the rotting guts of archhuman society again and again, can his talent keep his mind and soul as pristine as his body? Or will that part of him simply remain broken?

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.