Another World’s Versatile Crafting Master - Chapter 11 - Ring and Canvas

There once upon-a-time roamed a boy.The boy went from a baby to a toddler. Then from a toddler to a child. Then a child to a boy. Then from a boy to a man. But, no matter how old he grew, no matter how much time passed, he kept on pondering and pondering, if people reflected on their existence, then what did existence reflect on?No matter if he was crawling on all fours with pacifier, drawing a red house on a green hill with a painting brush, fishing for big and small fishies in his small, little boat, skinning a deer he had caught, or even sleeping, the question persisted.No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't reach the answer.He became a tutor, a teacher, a killer, a hacker, a criminal, until there was once thing he still did not become.A God.Being subjected to a heavily traumatizing event, Amon now wakes up to only to find himself in a game called 'The Adventure of the Hero: IX' he had once played a long time ago, where he finds a world filled with swords and magic, a magical academy, demons, high-ranked devils, dragons, and advanced technologyFollow the story of Amon, the eighth mechanism of the universe, as he navigates through worlds, universes, multiverses, and the omniverse. gathering the rest of the eight mechanisms, fighting against ancient and outer gods, becoming a tutor of a certain, little daughter-of-a-demon-king, put on a witch hunt of eldricht cosmic horror entities, attending an academy with the protagonist, heroines, villains, villainesses, and even a transmigrated third-rate final boss, meeting witches, creating sects, meeting the 9 goddesses, going against both Orthodox and Unorthodox churches, and many more!This is the story of a boy that had nothing, the story of the boy who knew the price of zer0, the legend of the boy known as 'The Happy'.The Boy who had a broken God Complex----------------------WARNING: This novel delves into themes of madness, insanity, and distorted realities. As the story progresses, it may change your perception and evoke unsettling emotions. Reader discretion is advised. Take care to recognize when to step back if you feel overwhelmed.

Sabrina Jewel found out she was pregnant after so many pregnancy tests. The same day, her husband, the powerful President of Jewels Group of Companies in NY city, Robin Jewel, brought another woman home after Sabrina had endured his escapades with ceaseless women and tried to be a good wife.“What? After all the sperm, you could not for once be pregnant. Not even a miscarriage. She did your job for you,” Robin pinned the blame on Sabrina.Sabrina’s world crumbled right before her eyes. She left her family for this idiot but not anymore. His father knew who she was but Robin never took the pain to even research about her throughout their three years of marriage. Since he got another woman pregnant, she was done for good.“I have had enough, Robin. It’s either she leaves or I leave….”

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.