Transmigrated: Stealing the CEO husband - Chapter 45: Drunk President Luiss

Jadis has no idea how she died. One minute she's living her life as a young college student in Pennsylvania, the next she's hurtling through the unimaginable, incomprehensible void of the space between realities as a lost and detached soul. Luckily for her, the bored, and slightly deranged, god D finds her soul before it is mulched by the incomprehensible cosmos. After offering her a cookie to calm down from her existential nightmare, he explains that not only are gods and their respective afterlives real, but her disbelief in gods while living also means she doesn’t qualify to enter any god’s afterlife upon death. However, since D is in the mood for some mischief, he strikes a deal with her. Life in a fantasy world with RPG elements, along with a body built to match Jadis' slightly perverted wishes. Additionally, she gets a guaranteed spot in his afterlife. All that for the low price of spicing up the stagnant cyclical nature of a never-ending war between two stubborn gods and their respective followers on said magic-filled world. What disembodied soul could turn down an offer like that?Except, once Jadis takes the deal, she finds that she has been transported to the middle of nowhere and the lazy jerk of a god forgot to check if any of his followers were around to greet Jadis. Now freshly reincarnated as a Nephilim, Jadis is all alone and all but naked in an abandoned dwarven village located firmly in demon infested territory. Not planning on dying again anytime soon, she is forced to take the only non-perverted class option given to her and unexpectedly receives a second body for it. How is Jadis going to explain that when she gets back to civilization? From there, the now pluralized Jadis tries to survive long enough to understand her new system and skills, looking forward to the day she finds civilization, hot baths, and hotter elves.[I have already posted 300+ chapters on Scribble Hub. Updates there are Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, with double chapters posted every Friday. I plan on posting an increased number of chapters on Royal Road until this site has caught up and then post here on the same schedule. Rebirth of the Nephilim contains sexually explicit material, so for Royal Road I will be censoring the more explicit chapters. If you want to read the lewd chapters in their entirety, they will remain uncensored on Scribble Hub.]

The worst student of Westroad Academy. The disgrace of the Blake House. A new soul enters the body of Frey Blake, who couldn’t overcome his miserable life and chose death instead. “What’s with this body? I’ll have to work on tuning it from scratch.” The Great Mage Lucas Traumen, with the body of Frey Blake, gains a chance at revenge!

Her first encounter with Qin Sijue is an unexpected one. While trying to hide from her pursuers, she accidentally barges into his changing room. Yet, their paths crosses again fatefully—after a fake marriage, she legally becomes his bride. She imagines that they will only interact before the agreement ends, after which they would have nothing to do with each other. However, Qin Sijue comes over with two red booklets—their wedding certificate. “Take them for an appraisal and see if they’re real”.

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.”