Experimental Log of the Crazy Lich - Chapter 826 - Absolute Kill

An unexpected discovery in Machu Picchu has transported a young professional thief from Earth to a world filled with mystical powers and evil plots. With his beloved teacher and best friend killed during the calamity, his only goal is to become stronger, so that he can take revenge for them.This is a novel filled with politics, the struggle for power, evil beauties, and of course, Divine Immortals.

- Description from Novelupdates

In a world fractured by conflict and haunted by shadows of the past, Kokushibo—the first Upper Moon demon—meets his end, only to awaken in a new life. Reincarnated as Crimson, a child born into a different family, he carries the memories of a past he cannot escape. Burdened by centuries of guilt yet indifferent to the present, he resigns himself to duty—until an unexpected bond with his newfound family begins to thaw his hardened heart. As he struggles between the weight of his past and the weight of the new life, Crimson must decide whether he will remain shackled to his former sins or embrace the possibility of peace.

There is an ugly beast that violates women in prison.

A treacherous beast that is feared and called a “Butcher”.

That’s me.

I was once a human but now I can’t even remember my own name.

I can’t speak, and I don’t understand a word they say.

It is in this deep loneliness that I am pouring my essence into the women everyday.

I pour my burning rage into them.

Over and over again, until they conceive.

From morning till night. Until the women’s souls withered.

To show them that I’m an excellent stallion and an obedient domestic animal.

But my soul has not perished yet.

I will break free from this prison soon. And when I do, it will be your last.

Every human who betrayed me, every demon who altered me, I will trample down like an ant.

And it won’t stop until I’m satisfied.

The dawn of the beast is near.

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.