MTL - From White Box To Supervision - Chapter 16 Fujimori Yuki

In the expansive expanse of existence, there exist realms concealed from the awareness of ordinary folk.Rain Weathers, an unremarkable teenager with average looks, physique, and grades, was leading an uneventful life.However, everything took a dramatic turn one fateful day when he found himself plunged into a vivid dream, a dream that unveiled a world beyond imagination — a world teeming with spirits, monsters, and conversing frogs.This was the Spirit Realm.Transformed into a player by the mysterious machinations of the universe, Rain, alongside other chosen individuals, found themselves thrust into a perilous world.They were tasked with navigating their newfound domain, establishing their territories, all while fending off relentless onslaughts from beasts, defending their territories from other races, and making sure to stay alive for another day.

A Lovecraft- inspired darker, grittier One piece fanfic. A fanfic based on emotion and madness. A fanfic not for the faint hearted.----------------Regret. I have been drowning in it for far too long. I’ve regretted every choice I’ve made, every mistake I’ve carried, every moment of my past. I’ve regretted the present I live, the path I walk. Even my future, uncertain as it may be, has been tainted by regret.But not anymore. I refuse to live under its shadow. Yet, I know the truth—I don’t have the power to escape it completely.Am I not like a flicker of flame? So fragile, so fleeting—one puff, and I’m gone.Regret has burdened me, weighed me down to make me climb the towering wall of greatness. But I press on.It was all I could do. All I ever wanted to do.

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.