Realm of Monsters - Chapter 602: The Thorn Prince

“What, how the hell did I get here?” Vorden a normal 20 year old guy in an urban world gets trapped in a video game. He goes through trying times, life and death battles in the hope that he can find his mom. Don't miss out on the most eventful Urban Fantasy story with twists and turns, with friends and foes, and with love and hate.

He went from an ordinary student to a god-level master in manufacturing.
Continuously progressing, processing range from hundreds of meters to tens of atoms, processing precision from microns to nanometers to atoms and molecules, everything was possible.
Wassenaar Accord? The embargo against China? What we have banned are technologies that China doesn’t care much about. Most of the member states have to import technology from China, shouldn’t the member states have a meeting to discuss and bring in China as well?
Forbidden chip sales? Is there a mistake? We barely managed to maintain our low-end market with a large amount of subsidies, it’s already good enough that China didn’t initiate an anti-dumping investigation. President, are you sick?
Hmm, it seems like living cells can be processed precisely as well. Do you need to refine the cancer cells that you are spreading out?

- Description from Novelupdates

The year was 2026, and the world wasn't what it used to be. Ever since the Abyss Gates cracked open three years ago, spilling monsters and dungeons across the planet, life had turned into a chaotic mess. Cities were half-ruined, half-rebuilt, and people clung to whatever normalcy they could find. Hunters—those brave or crazy enough to fight the monsters—became the new heroes. Everyone else? Well, they just tried to survive.Fin wasn't a Hunter. He wasn't a hero either.He was just… Fin. A lanky 19-year-old with messy brown hair, a chipped front tooth from a dumb skateboard accident, and a power that everyone called useless. Absorption. Sounds cool, right? Like he could suck up energy or steal someone's strength. Nope. All it did was let him “feel” things he touched a little more than normal. He could tell you the exact texture of a brick wall or how warm a coffee mug was—big whoop. No fireballs, no super strength, no flashy moves. Just a glorified touchy-feely trick.“Fin, you gonna eat that sandwich or just stare at it like it's gonna confess its life story?” Meg's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.He blinked and looked across the rickety table at his best friend. Meg was short, loud, and had a wild mop of dyed purple hair that she swore made her look “intimidating.” It didn't.