Insect Tamer's Ascension - Chapter 37: Spore Lash (1)

“What do you mean by I need to steal MILFs to become stronger!?” Waking up in an unfamiliar body of a Prince, Lucian stares in bewilderment as a transparent panel materializes before him, displaying a message that demands — “You need to steal MILFs to become stronger!” His mind races with confusion. What does that even mean?? As the absurdity of his new reality sinks in, he begins to accept the dark possibilities before him. In his previous life, as a master seducer, no beauty had ever escaped his demonic embrace. Now, with this new body, he savors the thrill of his newfound power. Their desires will become my playground, and their most sacred secrets will be mine to exploit. “You’re the Empress? I’ll grant you a divine body if you submit to me.” “Your lover is a once-in-a-thousand-years genius? So what? I’ll make you a prodigy that comes once in a million.” “Your husband is the sect leader of a powerful immortal sect? Irrelevant. I’ll elevate you to become an immortal goddess.” To claim the fate points of the ’Sons of Heaven,’ Lucian will seduce their cherished ones and drain their divine essence.

Never touched a girl for five years, living in isolation, and having no skills or idea to talk to a girl.

Tim never thought he would reincarnate in the game he was working on. Now, he had to go through a life that almost seemed impossible for him.

With the Lust System that he created, Tim was forced into a Murim World where strength was everything. And, the only way he could level up was by getting a new girl by his side.

The skills that he could only buy from real currency can only be accessed through quests now.

Can he survive in this world? Can he live with this new life where he has to touch a woman every day of his life? Can he reach the top of the world with his harem?

BLURB> He was reborn by mistake. Raised with purpose. Loved by a god. Worshipped by monsters. And the galaxy doesn’t stand a fucking chance.Irvine’s soul took one wrong turn through the wheel of karma and woke up in a body grown by an intergalactic hivemind goddess with boundary issues and galaxy-sized ambition. Now he’s the golden child of a psychic swarm that feeds on control and burns whole worlds for affection.With Crystal at the helm, warriors like Kimchi, relic-weapons like Kiya, and a council of psionic horrors eager to call him king, Irvine must choose what kind of god he wants to be.Because when a hivemind learns to love......it doesn’t know when to stop.The universe will kneel—or get devoured trying.SYNOPSISIrvine didn’t ask to be reincarnated, but the cosmos had other plans. And it didn’t hand him a cheat code or a clean slate—just one random boon, selected by an uncaring divine roulette wheel.Good karma? Bad karma? Balanced as all fuck.Now he's reborn in the body of a psionically tuned alien hybrid, raised from psychic infancy by Crystal, the hivemind queen of a race so advanced they’ve abandoned individuality for shared omniscience. All except her baby boy.Irvine is the singularity inside the swarm, the first soul allowed to think, dream, and desire independently. Trained by warriors like Kimchi, advised by bio-symbiotes like Kiya, loved ferociously by hive sisters like Diane, and shadowed by powers ancient and unnamed, Irvine is both weapon and wielder, saint and sacrifice.But empires don’t run on hugs and handjobs. As Crystal expands her dominion—across star systems and sentient nebulae—Irvine must lead the charge through blood, fire, and psionic flame.His soul is still human. His body? Engineered for extinction. His heart? Not entirely his anymore.

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.”