Taming my Monster Girl Harem from Scratch - Chapter 388 A Short Tour

“Devouring Lifespan to grow stronger!!”When Ricky Stormwind—a washed-up office worker—drank himself to death, he expected eternal nothingness. Instead, he awoke in a new world… as a mosquito.Weak as an ant. Fragile as a piece of paper. Prey to everything.But this world is no ordinary one. Magic, monsters, and powerful beings dominate the land, with ruthless forces waging war for supremacy. And Ricky? He possesses a terrifying ability—he can drain lifespan from any living creature and use it to evolve.A single bite can grant him hours. A feast?..... Years!!Now, in a forest filled with predators and beside a village on the brink of destruction, Ricky must climb the evolutionary ladder—from insignificant pest to a calamity that could devour the world itself.But when his first real meal triggers a mass sacrifice, the world mistakes him for a rising Demon Lord. Bounties are placed on his head. Armies march to hunt him down. And lurking in the shadows, a forbidden power calls to him, promising a path beyond mere survival—one that could reshape reality itself.In a world where everything is prey to something greater, something horrendous… he will rise to become the apex.

The simulation is over, and the entry is obtained: a showdown!

Looking at this entry, Zhao Meng was stunned.

“How should this term be used?”

“Hey! Here’s a wounded fox!”

…

A few years later, a woman who looked like a fairy appeared in front of him, and said:

“My lord, I’m here to repay my favor!”

This book is also called “Starting from Transforming Monsters”

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”

Igor had asked him to die for the world. She would ask him to die for her. Problem was, he didn't really like dying, not for a second time, at least.