Bofuri (The Strongest Shield Of Tensura) - Chapter 60 - Sixty

“You call yourself a hero? After your greed killed my sister?”What would you do if all of your friends, everyone you ever loved besides your sister, died in front of you?What would you do if, because you were weak, everyone hated you and considered you a Wasted, someone who hurt humanity's chance to survive extinction?Adam continued fighting despite this abuse, because he still had 1 simple goal: even if he was nothing more than cannon fodder or wasted potential, he would keep his sister safe.But then, it wasn't the Kaiju or apocalypse that killed her. It was the Exalted, the strong, the heroes of society.The people he was supposed to praise were the ones who took his last hope in life away before killing Adam as well.So, when he regressed with a villain system that rewarded him for killing Exalted...[First Exalted killed!][Artifact: The Mantle has upgraded to level 2!]

Extras die every day in various ways in the game [Demon King’s Palace 3].

He was an extra when he reincarnated into the game.

I’ll never die. Never.

“Let’s get started.”

Evan had come to a conclusion. He tapped his cheeks as a way of signaling to himself that he had made up his mind.

He would become a character who never dies.

Procrastinator extraordinaire, Fang Ning, had lost his consciousness after banging his head on a night of celebration. He woke up to a realization that he no longer had control of his body, as a System had taken it over. Will he eventually regain control of his body or will he be trapped in his body forever? How does he maneuver this situation? What’s in store for Fang Ning?

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.