Picking Up Beautiful Girls In The Post-Apocalyptic World! - Chapter 330

With a wave of his hand, he shapes the land,An omnipotent king, his power grand.The sun and stars he sets in motion, And rules with absolute devotion.His words command the wind and sea,The mountains bow down, the rivers flee.All creatures great and small, they heed his call,And his power reigns supreme over all.In his kingdom, order and peace reign,And all who enter know his righteous reign.For he is the omnipotent king,And his power shall forever ring========My name is Kingsley Seth and I along with all 7 billion+ people on Earth got transferred into a planet said to be 50,000x bigger than the Earth. Having no choice but to listen to a system whose only defining feature was it's absolute fair judgement.This is the story of me and those 7 billion people as we try to not only physically this world but Mentally as well. Well..... This is a story of how they try to survive, I live in a huge castle and accompanied by servants of all kinds.

A smutty LitRPG with a futa lead.Long-running. Support me at Pat.treon.com/winterwhereof and receive early chapters.***Levels. Skills. Dungeons.As a nineteen year old living in modern society, these are terms Zoey is aware of. But had she ever expected to experience these videogame abstractions in the literal sense? To struggle through monster-infested realms, earning skills, casting spells, and acquiring rare and magical items?Obviously not.And more than the strange environment she finds herself in, Zoey contends with the bizarre reality of her class. Of being summoned by a sensual, perverted goddess who has gleefully bestowed a throbbing length between Zoey’s legs, then sent her off with a single unhelpful instruction: to save the world, and ascend to divinity while doing so.It’s all a bit much.But with so many cute girls to lay conquest to, and a new piece of equipment to help her along the way … well, things could be much, much worse.

10 years searching for his lost sibling.

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.