MTL - Resurrection of Terror: My Eight Magical Skills Will Be Automatically Cultivated - Chapter 241

After crossing over to a fantasy world, Rhett finally becomes a minor noble at the age of forty— the Lord of Hawkeye Town.It is then that he discovers that he possesses a special ability.Staring at the options of [Text Simulation] and [Real Simulation], Rhett hesitates before choosing [Real Simulation].【Do you wish to start Real Simulation? Each simulated day will consume 5 Destiny Points.】“Yes.”…【Real Simulation Complete. Please choose one attribute to retain.】【1. Constitution】【2. Battle Qi】【3. Mental Power】Fantasy simulation, lord’s territory management, family growth—more exciting content awaits you!

A genius idiot born from an incestual marriage!

A young man with triple identities of worker, murderer, and university student!

Cadillacs and Dinosaurs, Sangokushi, KOF, Knights of the Round, Shadow Force, Street Fighter…

Each one of the arcade games you are familiar with has already been changed into a prerequisite for survival!

Slaughtering Shiranui Mai with Ya Otome, Jigoku Gokuraku Otoshi to kill Li Dian. There is only what hasn’t been thought of, there isn’t anything that can’t be thought of!

On an unknown day, when you walk down the stairs, you may accidentally walk into this —— arcade nightmare!

- Description from Novelupdates

If I fail to seduce all the heroines of this s*xy game, I’ll die.

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”