Transmigrated As An Extra In The Apocalypse - Chapter 69 - 68: War (3)

Ren Arakawa thought getting stabbed by his psycho ex-girlfriend was the worst way to die, and it would end his story. Turns out, it was just the prologue. He wakes up in a parallel earth full of dungeons, monsters, hunters and way too many women with clingy tendencies and knives.To make things worse, the goddess who reincarnated him? Yeah—she's the Yandere Goddess, the divine creator of obsessive love and the world he is going to reincarnate is female-dominated world, and she’s mad Ren called his ex “crazy.” So she curses him:“Every girl who likes you will become yandere. Like, explosively, murderously, loyalty-soaked yandere, to them you will be their oxygen. Good luck, idiot~ Go ahead and realise how amazing this yandere love is.”BUT—plot twist—the God of Creation, who’s been hiding in a broom closet in heaven since the beginning of the universe to escape his yandere stalker (guess who?), snatches Ren’s soul mid-reincarnation and gives him a cheat skill:[Heartsteal] – Absorb one power from any yandere girl who's obsessed with you.“My guy...you should help me...this bitch is driving me crazy..”Now Ren just wants to survive dungeons and not die from accidental love. Instead, he’s collecting powers:A healer who murders teammates because they looked at him wrongA pop idol who sends her fans to the shadow realm for shipping her with someone else other than RenA plant mage who grows garden clones of him to cuddle and possibly do other thingsArmed with sarcasm, trauma, and increasingly dangerous girlfriends, Ren must climb the power ladder, level up, and eventually punch a literal goddess in the face to break the curse and destroy the concept of Yandere and be a free man.Love? Nope. Power through emotionally unstable women? Absolutely.

The Pseudo-Holy Grail War of Snowfield is About to Begin!Moran, who has transmigrated into the Type-Moon universe, is determined to clear the game in one life!Waiting online, urgent!Ding! You have successfully activated the Life Simulator!• 【You drove out the foreign Olympian Machine Gods, took the hand of the Earth Mother Goddess, and founded a new nation and mythology.】• 【You are the Lord of the Millennium Castle, bestowed with the name Brunestud, and the beloved ruler of the land in the eyes of the Crimson Moon.】• 【You are the Final King of the Age of Gods, single-handedly preventing its decline and ensuring that Divine Age Britain endures to this day.】Behind this dazzling simulated life, Moran now faces—Arcueid: “Weren’t you supposed to pick me up at the Millennium Castle? Why are you here in the Holy Grail War?!”Artoria: “Enough! Come back to Britain with me!”Ereshkigal: “Moran! Who are all these women?!”As his ever-growing circle of admirers closes in, Moran realizes—This might just be the hardest “Kidney Grail War” in history.

ROMANCE! APOCALYPSE! DRAMA LOVING GOD! REBIRTH!The hospital lights buzzed faintly above her, the edges of her vision already blurring into white. Blood pooled in her lungs. No family. No friends. Just the relentless beeping of a monitor counting down her last seconds. Rosalie stared at the sterile ceiling, tears sliding sideways across her temple.“I didn’t even get to do anything.” She whispered. “No love. No one will remember I was here. If anyone’s out there… God, fate, whatever you are, hear me. Let me live again. Somewhere. Anywhere. Let me matter.”When she woke up again, she wasn’t Rosalie anymore. She was Mei Shen, a forgotten noblewoman trapped in a story of cold nights and cruel tyrant hands. One night. No promises. A pregnancy with a tyrant's child. She ran. Hid. Escaped fate’s cruel grip.But less than a month later everything changed.“Subject detected. Lianwei Voss has entered your proximity. Obsession level: 85% - critical. Imminent event : Apocalypse countdown initiated -time remaining: Unknown. New genre unlocked: Dark romance -Obsession + villainous devotion activated.”The game had changed. The rules were gone.“You broke the script. But you will never break me.”God whispered in her ear.The child she carried was a weapon, her vengeance a fire. And somewhere in the darkness, the emperor’s obsession burned hotter than ever.One night, beneath the empire’s broken skyline, she found a stranger, broken, bleeding, unknown. She saved him. Not knowing she was cradling her own nightmare.

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.