Apocalyptic Era: Starting from picking up a Bishoujo - Chapter 1 - Picking up the Doomsday Girl 1

On the night when the savior of the wizarding world should have been born, Harry Potter died under the unforgivable curse.

The man who made almost all British wizards dare not call him by name, regained the wisdom and ambition that belonged to him from the Horcrux.

Darkness has completely enveloped the island of Great Britain.

Wizards are divided into high and low according to their bloodlines. Pure blood firmly holds the authority that belongs to the superior, and people called mudbloods can only be as humble as mud and trampled on throughout their lives.

The Ministry of Magic, which is supposed to enforce justice, is full of villains, and the castle, which is supposed to impart knowledge, is full of oppression.

In these dark times.

Jon Green, who came from across time, was brought into the exiled carriage that truly inherited the title of “Hogwarts”…

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- Description from novelbuddy

When he woke up, Yang Yuan found himself reborn.

When he was one year old, “Ah, not only rebirth, but also transmigration.”

At the age of three, “Goldfinger is finally in place!”

Portable space is handy.

Fourteen years old, “What the hell is my golden finger?”

Yang Yuan screamed in the sky…

Thirty-year-old, Yang Yuan, who was hugging from left to right, stood on Emperor Tread Peak, pointing to the vast land, “This is the country that I have conquered!”

Omg, golden fingers are so fragrant!

- Description from novelbuddy

Lin Dong came to the city from the mountains after cultivating medicine and martial arts to extremely high calibre. Wielding heavenly medicine skills and invincible martial arts, he dominates the city.

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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.