City of Witches - Chapter 308: Summertime (1)

As the final dragon lay defeated, Aaran stared at the sky while the rest celebrated.[Awaiting the gods’ response...]He clenched his fists, his heart pounding. A shred of hope flickered in his eyes, only to be extinguished like always.[The attained outcome was deemed unsatisfactory.]Aaran had seen the message for the twentieth time. He had become the gods’ plaything in their desire to witness the “perfect ending”.He regressed once again, but this time as a toddler and charm being the only stat he had.But something was amiss. The world he remembered had changed. Powers that did not exist before had taken hold of the world.Tired of following the traditional route, Aaran chose to fight darkness with darkness… as the gods’ chosen necromancer!

At first, when he learned that he was forced to go to many different routine worlds and be reborn into all kinds of cannon fodder, he was against it.

Because villains usually all only have a moment of satisfaction, the endings of cannon fodder are also frequently quite miserable.

But the man who gave him the system told him that this system not only has all types of powerful functions, but he can also break the routine lives of the cannon fodder. If he achieves this satisfactorily for each world, he can even become a god.

He’s already experienced over a thousand reincarnations, but hasn’t yet been a god. Since it sounds pretty great, why not just try it out.

From that moment on, he began the irreversible path of tyrannically oppressing people, while conveniently tearing open those white moonlights and so-called righteous people’s hypocritical masks.

His goal: wearing the villain’s role to walk other people’s righteous paths, leaving them no path to follow.

- Description from novelupdates

«Farming wives in the apocalypse.» Getting a wife is possible. Getting Wives is hard. And in the apocalypse, it’s impossible. But what if you have superpowers that allow you to do anything? I mean everything!

On one spring evening when I was eight years old, I, Erica, Duke of Aurelia’s daughter, realized something.