Becoming The Strongest Angel With A Saintess System - Chapter 72: Mission Report

Kim Jeongjin, an editor of a publishing company on the brink of closing due to bankruptcy, ends up transmigrating inside a fantasy novel as the incompetent youngest son of a wealthy family.

And here he thought that he should live a rich life in this life…

“Why was I given a high-level skill? Don’t even bother!”

[You have inherited The Class Huntsman Of Death.]Deathborne.An RPG that I couldn’t stop playing in my free time. A game that hooked me to the core. A game that I was determined to finish and achieve the true happy ending by hook or crook.Why?Because no matter what choices I made, no matter how much I tried, it always ended with a bad ending.Not the bad ending in the traditional sense where the world comes to an end, but something worse. The protagonist would win, yes, but only at the unacceptable cost—sacrifices so immense that they left humanity and the world broken.And honestly? I didn't like it.Would you enjoy a movie, novel, or game that ends with only the protagonist surviving?Neither could I.That's why I tried my hardest and kept trying. Alas, despite all my efforts, I have yet to reach the true end but…Until today…It started just like any normal day for me.I returned home, greeted my mother, had my lunch, and was about to start yet another grind. Just as I was about to start, my screen flashed with a blood-red message:[Congratulations, player Mr. Per781, for clearing all hidden conditions. You are now eligible to access the hidden route, as deemed by the game developer.] [Do you want to proceed?] [Yes] [No] Before I could even think about my answer, a hand emerged from the screen and pulled me into the game.And when I regained consciousness, I wasn't myself anymore. I was in the body of a side character as Lukas Star, one of the weakest and nearly forgotten Hunter of the Archeon Academy.

Epic fantasy presence: Ashes Of The First Tyrant [AOTFT]Prologue – The Law of AuraThey say every soul burns.Some flare brightly and fade. Others smolder quietly for a lifetime.But a rare few, rare beyond reason ignite with such intensity that the world bends to them. These are not gods. Not yet.These are the Tyrants.And their aura is not a gift.It is a weight a burden.In this world, aura is everything.It is the breath behind a sword strike, the pressure behind a command, the silent will that can crush or inspire. Most are born with it. Few master it.But only one…only one in an ageawakens the Tyrant’s Spirit…the aura that dominates not by force, but by presence alone.

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.