Headed by a Snake - Chapter 31 Saving A Sect

Cliche. Another monster progression story. That was probably what you thought when you read the title of my story. And, I can't lie, for the most part, it probably is.But, what else am I supposed to do when I've been thrusted into a world that could kill me in an instant? There's nothing to do but to progress, to devour and evolve. You would do the same too.Such is the basis of a monster.Such is the right of any living being.So that's what I did. I ate, I killed and I hoarded anything I could get my big limbs on. Friendship, allies and love? There used to be a little god calling himself “Heaven's Equal” who spouted of such things, before I ate him. The world went pretty quiet after that.Follow my story. Read for yourself how I evolved from a little monster in a lake I thought was the ocean, all the way into the Titan Of Destruction.What To Expect:- A relatively quick progression story- Ruthless, I mean - Fang Yuag levels - of ruthless protagonist.- A system? that grows stronger along with the protagonist- Big Monsters Duking It Out, with minimal humans/beastmen/elves, etc. . .focus. Basically, monsterverse without annoying ass humans ruining the show.- Did I mention that the protagonist was pretty evil?

Until he became the lowest-ranked master, his lonely and luckless life never changed.

Suddenly one day, a descendant injected him with a nanomachine, and the machine started ‘speaking’ to him.

“What? What are you talking about?”

This was beyond the boy’s knowledge, he turned pale.

The Nanomachine linked to his cerebrum realized the User was not understanding a single word it said.

“Who are you, and why are you doing this to me?”

“Nano Mashin?”

The boy’s face hardened.

Mashin was the deity the Mashin Religion worshipped, along with the Sacred Fire.

The religions’ Master communicated with Mashin.

“Um, are you really Mashin?”

The boy knelt down and asked with a trembling voice. At this, the Nanomachine attached to his cerebrum realized it had been misunderstood.

All things must come to an end, but so long as possibility exists, even the cessation of all things will be greeted by reality anew, endlessly repeating but with the steps taken along the way varying infinitely...If you would like to support me or read up to 50 chapters ahead, search for me on Patreon at Eins_left_foot.

Vincent van Gogh, the painter who refused to be an accessory Of power and painted with his soul at the tip of a brush, was not understood by anyone and had to die like a madman, and he woke up in 21st century Korea.

Like a wheat field melted with gold, like a sunflower that swallowed the sun, a dazzling painter once again takes the brush.