My wife who comes from a wealthy family - Chapter 901 - 902: Gaining the Inheritance of the Cave Dwelling

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.

Lacking a pocket dimension, lacking a power, lacking a thigh to hug onto and the three life advantages (money, power, and looks), he had been cautiously living in the apocalypse for ten years, getting closer to falling inside the zombie’s mouths. But unexpectedly, he had the terrible luck, to be caught in a fight between two gangs and die, it really left people feeling disappointed.

I don’t know the length of Hydra, or the depth of S.H.I.E.L.D.

I don’t know that Ant-Man has an outfit, and I don’t know that the Winter Soldier has an iron fist.

I don’t know that there is chaos in the Bliss Space, and I don’t know that Miss Xiaoyu wants to get married.

I don’t know if the walking corpse is cheating, I don’t know whose fault the alien is.

I don’t know the legend of mutants, I don’t know that Kryptonians can’t afford to provoke them.

I don’t know that Black Panther’s family has a mine, and I don’t know that Iron Man is a mess.

I don’t know what happened to Lei Shen’s family, and I don’t know that Thanos is thinking about making troubles.

He doesn’t know the past or the way forward, he only knows that he stands firm at the critical moment and cannot be cowardly.

- Description from novelbuddy

At nineteen, Dexter was already one of the world’s most celebrated authors. His books topped charts. Critics praised his genius. Fans devoured every word. But behind the acclaim was a lonely boy—raised without parents, love, or real friends—just stories.He published his first novel at fourteen. By seventeen, he was a literary star. But the higher he rose, the hollower it felt.Then came the writer’s block. The headaches. The blackout. And the transmigration.Dexter awoke in the body of Daylan, a disgraced young man in a crumbling, medieval world laced with steampunk tech, divine law, and political unrest. Daylan had already failed two of the three sacred Trials—rites that determine one’s magical potential. He was drowning in debt, entangled in plots to overthrow a corrupt Divine Church, and branded a lost cause.With no way back, Dexter took the final Trial—the most brutal of them all—and began a path that would earn him the whispered title: Soldier, Poet, King.But as his powers grew, one question haunted him: Did he truly die? And if so, who—or what—chose to bring him back?