MTL - Water Recovery System - Chapter 31

Doomsday crisis, zombies are attacking, the situation is critical.Don't let our enemies change from zombies coming at us to humans we protect behind us.“Brother, what would you do if I turned into an irredeemable zombie?”“…kill you.”“Then do you know what I would do if you turned into a zombie?”“Kill me.”“No,” he lifted her long hair, revealing her smooth neck.“You are crazy. I advise you to give up this irrational idea.”“Brother, this world has gone crazy.”

“I can’t believe my eyes. The ice lord actually kissed a man. God, help me!”

“I’m surprised that the son of the Bai family is actually the ugly and stupid second young miss!”

Who was it who melted the ice lord’s exterior and caused the awakening of his hidden gentle side?

She is black-bellied and crafty. She would never consider herself a good person, and would not go out of her way to provoke other people. But, once she is provoked, she will pay it back 1000-fold, showing no mercy.

He is cold and detached, elegant, magnanimous, and known as the ice lord, a heartless gentleman.

Will sparks fly when the iceberg collides with a black-belly? Is it hopeless, or will there be excitement?

- Description from Novelupdates

I had finally done it—achieved the ultimate Paladin build. Maxed stats, impenetrable armor, and so many resistances that death itself had given up on me. I was an unkillable tank, an indomitable force. Nothing could stop me.And then my PC exploded.I died.Irony, thou art a cruel mistress.But instead of the afterlife, I woke up as my Paladin character… in the wrong freaking genre. Instead of castles and dungeons, there were people flying around on swords, shooting qi beams like fantasy laser guns.“This is definitely the wrong genre,” I muttered, watching a pompous young master sneer at me.“Kowtow, kiss my foot, and beg for forgiveness!” he declared.I looked at my imaginary maxed-out health bar, then at his flimsy silk robes.Oh, this was going to be fun.

Rakna was not normal. No, unmistakably not.

Whether it was his appearance, his personality, his abilities, his identity, nothing about him had ever been banal. Was it his choice?

No. He was merely but a tormented soul doing its utmost to live the life it had learned to never enjoy.

Would being picked by a glorified universal abductor calling itself a system bring something out of him?

Would he finally learn to breathe in the pool of blood that suffocated him? The Harvester does not sow, he only collects.

All he has ever known to feel was loss and the only thing he can do is take.

He will devour their hearts and drink their blood if it is what it takes.