MTL - The New Order of Azeroth - v2 Chapter 481 Guardian Azadas

“Obtaining the topmost degree of talent in sword arts in the world requires giving up 72 years of lifespan, which leaves you with only five more years of your life. At the same time, you will never be able to feel love, kinship, and friendship, and you’ll end up leading a lonely life until your death, unable to procreate, or to have any descendants.

“From now onwards, everything related to happiness in the human world shall no longer be of your concern. Are you willing to accept this?”

“Hahahaha, I’m already alone bereft of all support, my hopes dashed to pieces, shouldering only absolutely irreconcilable grudge and hatred, why would I disagree? Why would I not want it? I couldn’t ask for anything better!!”

His sword sweeps across the Divine Continent for seven days and nights, moving 90,000 miles through the starry skies, unhindered.

He slays saints and buddhas in Heaven, slaughters demons and devils in Hell, sweeping away all the grievances in his heart.

Getting the [Boosted Gear] is expected for Issei. What if he gained it a month early and another one as well? Let the Games Begin... IsseiXHarem (if it wasn't, it wouldn't be DXD). Now has a TVTropes page! Getting the [Boosted Gear] is expected for Issei. What if he gained it a month early and another one as well? Let the Games Begin... IsseiXHarem (if it wasn't, it wouldn't be DXD). Now has a TVTropes page!

In the midst of a mall parking lot turned battleground, Korig stands with a crowbar in his hands, blood-stained and bewildered.

Chaos reigns as the world crumbles into a nightmare of undead horrors.

Amid the panic, a digital screen materializes, thrusting Korig into a twisted game of survival.

“Main Objective: Survive the Zombie Apocalypse for an hour.”

“Bonus quest: Kill 100 zombies.”

The countdown begins, and Korig must navigate the terror around him, battling both the flesh-hungry undead and the enigmatic rules of a malevolent system.

As time slips away, Korig's past and present collide, revealing secrets that could be the key to his survival.

Will he conquer the unholy countdown, or become another victim in this relentless System Mania?

……………………………………………………………

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I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.