The Bloodline System (Web Novel) - Chapter 1294 So I Died

Pick one of the 100 lord characters to be the final winner of the game “Territory Wars”.I became the first person in the world to complete the game using the world’s worst shitty character, Otto de Scuderia.I’m thrilled to see my name in the Hall of Fame, but I’ve been possessed into the game in the body of Otto de Scuderia, the worst of the worst.The memory of the experience is clouding my mind, but…If there’s no turning back, let’s just enjoy it.This time as the real Otto de Scuderia.

No one knows when the first Clough door appeared. All people know is that a new era began when it was pushed open.Fortresses, sublimators, pillars of star essence, three-dimensional armaments, infinite energy, who can escape the sweeping tide of the times?In the abyss, the reverse realm, the skins, the alien gods, the mad king, the rulers, and the dark creatures, all howl in madness!Inside the black mist, the demons and ghosts crawl forward as a cross-dimensional migration silently brews.

Humanity, on the verge of reaching the singularity through AI advancement, fell before it could grasp it.In a cyberpunk world where Seoul—and even all of Korea—no longer exists, a story unfolds of someone living leisurely amidst the chaos.

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.