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Beer Pulp

Young Master's PoV: Woke Up As A Villain In A Game One Day

"Now you see?" she shouted in a mix of annoyance and disappointment. "You can't outsmart Scrients! They're the most intelligent beings across the two realms." "You're right," I muttered, averting my gaze with a heavy sigh. "I made a mistake. I was too arrogant to think that a mere human like me could fool them." —BOOM!! "Heik! Wh-What was that?" "Hmm? I'm not sure. Maybe you should go and ask the most intelligent beings across the two realms. Oh wait, you can't. I killed them all.” ______ My name is Samael Kaizer Theosbane. On the last day of high school, I got into a fight with a kid I used to bully. It was a stupid, pointless scuffle, and in the middle of it, I tripped and hit my head on a rock. That’s when the memories came flooding in - the memories of another life, of a different world. Suddenly, everything made a twisted kind of sense. I realized two things. First, I was in a game I used to play in my past life. Second, I was a villain. A villain! Not the cool and mysterious kind, either. No, my destiny was to be manipulated and die a dog's death! I was the worst type of cliché: an ungrateful, privileged, insufferable young master. The sort you'd find in those poorly written fantasy stories. The kind everyone hates — a snobby brat from a powerful noble family who thinks he owns the world just because he was born with a silver spoon lodged in his mouth. You know the type. The one the hero beats to a pulp to prove his worth. Yeah, I was that guy. And the hero? The hero was the kid I’d been bullying all this time. The same one I got into a fight with. He was the supposed savior of this damned world. A world teetering on the edge of destruction, beset by wars, calamities, and a grim future that only I knew. And at the end of it all, the final antagonist of the game, the undefeatable boss… the Spirit King, was waiting. But could I even make it to the end? Could I conquer a game where defeat was the only certainty? A game that was now my reality! “Ah, fuck it.” I had no idea if I could, but I sure as hell was going to try. Extorting extras, manipulating main characters, twisting the story to my advantage, stealing the hero’s cheat items, killing villains before they could become threats - nothing was beneath me. Would the main characters be affected? Who cares! Would the story change? Even better! All I cared about was me—my survival, my life, my choices. “I will live this life with no regrets.” …But as I soon discovered, fate was not easily changed. And the price of altering one's destiny was steep.
The_One_Who_Was · 279.6K Views

Second chance - Diary of a transmigrator

The sweet scent of flowers invades my nostrils, while a light breeze caresses my body. I reflexively turn the other way, my hand flailing around my waist futilely seeking my blanket. Unable to find it, I gradually wake up, only to realize that I am not on my bed, nor in my room or in my house… instead, I am lying in a patch of grass in what looks to be a small clearing in a forest. Wait… WHERE THE HELL ARE MY CLOTHES???? I jump to my feet in panic and look left and right trying to figure out what is happening. My mind can’t process the situation, but after a few minutes the panic recedes and I start thinking somewhat rationally again. I check myself for any injuries or bugs crawling on me and I am relieved when I find none. Then my brain processes what my eyes see and I freeze. I once again start checking my body slowly, running my hands over it inch by inch. My beer belly is gone, the white hairs on my chest are now black and my body while not exactly rippling has defined muscle lines. Yeah, nice dream, I thought. I haven’t looked or felt so good since I was 20. Then reality slaps me again. A memory surfaces from the depth of my mind from a researcher’s interview on tv; you can’t smell something in your dreams, you just identify the scent that you should be smelling. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I smell the grass, the little violet flowers, the scent of the tree resin carried by the wind… fuck!... Toto, we are not in Kansas anymore…
PinkCulture · 6.9K Views

Game's Villain; The World of the Anima

… My head… it's fucking hurt! I feel like someone is pounding inside my head, holding inside of my brain, as if it were wrapped in a woman's firm thigh… Coiling there around my head, squeezing them into submission… My head felt like it was about to split open, spilling memories of cheap beer, it tasted like horse piss. Loud music that can make the ear deaf. What the hell! I groan, squinting against the unfamiliar, Luxurious surroundings. This isn't some dingy bar with sticky floors and questionable clientele. Where are those men rubbing shoulders with each other! And Lisa! That fucking slūt! Did she hide this from me! Bītch! This isn't luxurious? It's more like a damn hoarder's wet dream. ‘Asher Aegis,' the name echoed in his mind, a bitter curse on his tongue. He was Asher Aegis, the infamous villain from "Eternal Heroes: The New Dawn of Desire," a notorious VR game notorious for its brutal realism and adult themes. [Additional Tags]: #Fantasy | Adventure | Swords & Magic | System | Monsters | Dark Elements | Dragons | #Gods | Goddesses| Sexual Content | Demons | Angels | Non-Human Characters | #Beautiful Female Leads | Multiple Lovers | Milf | Teacher & Student Relationship | Obsessive Affection| Cold Female Leads | Villainess | | Doting Lovers | Yanderes | Maids | Master-Servant Relationship | #Game-Elements | World System | Level-Up | Multiple Sub-power system | #Overpowered Protoganist | Handsome MC | Protoganist strong from the start| Anti-Hero | Ruthless MC | Cold MC | Villain | Lack of Morality | Hard working | Power Stealing | Strong to Stronger | Evolution | Selfish | Self-centred | Crazy | Genius #Taboos [Special Tags] #Taboo Subjects #No Yuri #No NTR (This Book has taken Inspiration from Several works! If you find some similarities between them, it is because of it. However, as the plot progresses there would be different thing's from those works.)
Ellucid_Dreams · 468.3K Views

Cahill

I could hear the din from the bar as I exited my SUV and I was still almost a block away. What a shame! I knew from long experience that would change as soon as my foot crossed the threshold. I tend to have that effect on people. I’m six feet six inches tall and I weigh an even 250 pounds—all of it broad shouldered muscle. My Body Mass Index at my last physical was less than four percent. My light brown hair is styled exactly the way it’s been for the past fifteen years—ever since I first joined the Navy. Sure enough, no sooner had I taken my first step into the bar than the noise died. When I turned left and stepped up to the bar the people there couldn’t back away fast enough. I took a stool in the middle of the empty space and sat down, waiting for the bartender to approach. “I’m not looking for any trouble.” “Good…neither am I. Give me a ginger ale.” He reached under the bar for a glass and some ice. Twenty seconds later he slid the glass in my direction. I pulled a fiver from my pocket and dropped it on the bar. He ignored it and walked away to draw a few beers and pour some wine. It looked to me like this was a pretty cheap crowd. Checking up and down the bar all I could see were longnecks and drafts. I reached into the lower left pocket of my cargo pants. Like almost everything else I was wearing they were a true deep navy blue. My heavy shoes were black as was my wide belt. My belt said as much about me as the bold white lettering across my chest. Just below the American flag over my heart were the letters that were my life—U. S. MARSHAL. On my right hip was my nickel plated .44 Magnum Colt Python, just behind two speed loaders in addition to the twenty-four rounds on the belt. On my left hip was my ASP Talon baton—every bit as deadly a weapon in my hands as the revolver. A pouch at the back of my right hip held my stainless steel handcuffs and its partner on the opposite side held my radio—my link to my backup team. I placed the photo flat on the bar as the bartender returned to me. “I’ll have another,” I said in a loud voice, continuing so I wouldn’t be overheard. “Don’t pick it up and don’t make a production of looking at it. I’ve been told that he comes here a lot. Is he here tonight? If he is and he escapes because you’ve given me away I’ll see to it that you’re arrested for obstruction of justice.” He gulped a few times but did as he was told, nodding slightly in response. I continued almost at a whisper. “If my nose is pointing to twelve o’clock, my right ear to three, the back of my head to six, and my left ear to nine, tell me where he is. Again, don’t point or do anything obvious and we’ll be fine.” He pretended to wipe the bar as he whispered, “About 4:30 with his back to you.” I picked up the reflection in the mirror then asked, “Red shirt with black and white stripes, looking away from me?” He nodded again. Now, in my normal tone of voice I asked, “Where’s the men’s room?”
Fredrick_Udele · 15.1K Views

Dread Sovereign: Monster Girl Harem

A handsome half-orc with a hulking body filled with perfect muscles stands carrying a great axe over one shoulder. His neon blue eyes watching the void, waiting for those that would threaten his world. Huge creatures with monstrous figures, beasts of the abyss, here to kill the orc. Their angered shrieks and pained screams filled the air. The corpses of these monsters surround his body, forming his throne of dread. His long tail smashed down, turning them into pulp while using his brutal axe with powerful chops, cleaving them into pieces. "This world shall become ours; you cannot stop our legion! Orc!" a distorted and evil voice sounded. "WATCH ME!" Shouted the orc, filled with confidence and pride. In defiance, a purple mist shrouded him as he transformed into a monster himself, with long gryphon wings and sharp horns from his head—a hulking muscular body and legs filled with thick scales and black hooves. Bang! The orc stepped forward, his heart burning with passion and desire as he bellowed with a demonic and distorted voice. "I am the Sovereign of Dread, foul Daemons. This is MY world! Return to your wasteland to rot, or DIE!" He was a manticore, the only male manticore ever to exist. He fights not for power. Not for glory! Alistair "Raven" Granbell fights only for his beloved women and because he LOVES to fight the strong and crush them under his axe Mor'vaal and prove he deserves his Dread Sovereign title. Dread Sovereign is exclusively published on Webnovel.com.
Duke_Asmodeus · 1.4M Views
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