Bank Of The Universe - Chapter 615 - Your Life Belongs To Me

The cycle of life is not infinite—except, perhaps, for Elijah.At 122 years old, Elijah lived a long and successful life—until he woke up as someone entirely new. Now, an anomaly in a mysterious kingdom sustained by magic, he faces questions about his place in a world that doesn't defy the laws of nature, but take them to an entirely new level.For over six millennia, this isolated realm of 300,000 citizens has thrived, its survival bound to the magic that nurtures its air, water, and food. Yet, some whisper that a kingdom refusing to expand is doomed to fall. How, then, has this kingdom endured?As Elijah uncovers ancient secrets, dives into treacherous cave systems, and grapples with the fatal flaws of magic, he learns the truth about existence itself—forces that shaped the cosmos. New alliances rise to confront an ancient plague, and the kingdom's delicate balance teeters on the edge of collapse.In this world, the vibrant hues of freedom and potential are mere illusions, like sunlight filtered through stained glass. Elijah must decide whether to shatter the illusion—or embrace it.————This novel goes into great detail about the ways of the people and how it will differ from the suspected outside world. What seems like a population of people who do not have much knowledge, show how they found their way by “feeling”, or by anecdotal(personal) evidence.

In the waves of steam and machinery, who could achieve extraordinary? In the fogs of history and darkness, who was whispering? I woke up from the realm of mysteries and opened my eyes to the world.

[Warning: The title might be named this way, but we’re actually NOT on hiatus.]I’m a third-rate writer, Yu Il-Shin.So don’t think that I’m actually a god; it’s just a name.One day, I experienced the much-anticipated awakening, but my newfound skill was… kinda weird?…In the small world connected through my mobile phone where the little, weak ants were getting killed regarded me as their god?

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.