MTL - Taizi - Chapter 17

What will you do when the gods turn Earth into their playground? Run, hide, and hope for the best? What if it isn’t an option? What if you’re the thing they want to play with? What if they want you to play for their entertainment?That is what the humans had to go through when the gods forced an awakening upon them. Pick classes, slay monsters, and survive being the god’s pet. Surviving an apocalypse can be fun, but a divine apocalypse? It will be fun… but only for the gods. For the rest, it is a test for survival.Maybe not for everyone. What if someone views it as an opportunity to take revenge on everyone who had betrayed him? What if someone doesn’t care about being used by the gods as long as he can use them for his revenge?That’s what Kang YuWon sets out to achieve once calamity strikes. Revenge on everyone, including his family, and even the gods, if they ever cross paths.

The curtains to an epic of a continental power struggle are pulled open. There’s an entire empire in Dane’s heart!

Churches, tribes, prisons, forests, castles, graveyards, abysses . . . He controls the bases of all seven races in the fantasy epic war game, [Heart of Dynasty]; right before his eyes is the throne of a monarch!

Elf rangers pull your bows, the heavy-armoured knights are charging!

The Caesar Empire has collapsed. An era of war for the new ruler arises. The Kingdom sends endless expeditions; the Northern Alliance is unwilling to be excluded; the abyss and death begin to stir as they gaze upon the continent. Plots, tricks, religious wars. . . amidst these battles, only the victor can be called powerful!

Dane, holding a blade dripping with blood, says with bared teeth, “f*ck! Let me use my ass to see whether that seat at the top is comfortable or not!”

- Description from Novelupdates

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.