The Butcher of Gadobhra - Chapter 418: The Curious Cooking Rituals of the Fire Flume Kobolds.

1 drop of blood = 1-Up

Other people game overnight, I game overnight and bleed.

Ever since the dimensional storms descended upon Earth, numerous dimensional zones have appeared, bringing with them all kinds of dimensional creatures—Immortals, Buddhas, Devils, Angels, Elves, etc.

Yet, all these strange dimensional zones can turn into dungeon instances on my phone. Other people risk their lives adventuring, I spend all my time gaming.

Monsters drop dimensional crystals that boost stats, imbue new skills, and join me as Companion Beasts. These Companion Beasts fight alongside me or alone, augmenting me with their skills and strength. Rare monsters in real life? I’ll just restart the game with a drop of blood to grind it.

I really need a blood transfusion.

For others it takes dying and reincarnating for them to get a system but what happens when you get one without dying?

Aron Michael is an average student set to graduate within a week, but he was expelled for a random reason. Due to that, he had heavy student debt and no diploma to help him earn the money to pay it back. But one day he got a system that called itself the [Advanced Tech System].

Follow the story to watch him develop from your average Joe to him being the owner of the largest company in the world.

When the cosmic tyrant Frieza detonated Planet Vegeta, home of the Saiyan race, a twist of fate sent a lone infant—placed in an escape pod by his mother—hurtling through the void toward an unknown destiny. The pod's trajectory led him to a desolate world: Titan, a planet ravaged by catastrophe and long stripped of life.Beneath the shadowed skies of this barren realm, the watchful eyes of Thanos, the self-appointed director of the universe's population balance, beheld an unexpected sight—a child, the sole survivor of Titan’s forgotten civilization... a child with a tail swaying behind him.“A survivor of Titan... From this day forth, you shall be my son.”

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”