I’m A Wasteland Giant - Chapter 92 - : A Different Sirius!

While trying to survive, Eddie needs to create his Serum. But, all these works make his life pressure continues to grow.Especially after he meets Ada Wong.All he can do is 'Fighting' with the female Wesker to calm the stress.As for Alex, Jill, and Rebecca. Eddie *cough* does not know them... Maybe just friends that like to hang out and drink coffee together?Wait... You tell me they all had children?In the future?Ah, I see... Still, who is the children's father?

In the realm of Nexaria, where elemental spirits and divine beings shape the fate of the world as a land of mortals striving to become gods against the demons of the Abyssal universe, a young boy named Lassim Vanthar embarks on an extraordinary journey of advancement, adventure and becoming a bastion for those around him in their fight against the Dragal.Born into a noble family with a legacy of Fire elemental martial prowess, Lassim possesses an unparalleled gift on his 8th birthday—a connection to two differing elemental spirits, a feat unheard of in the history of his world. A gift and a tampering of the order until now that is an omen. It is a sign of the Gods influencing the future fate of Nexaria on a more serious level.Lassim must harness the power of his dual spirits to protect his loved ones and confront the looming threat of the Abyss' encroachment on his universe, but one step at a time as he grows from just a tool of the God's to a major power as the hero ofnot only Nexaria, but the entire universe.Lassim faces daunting challenges, battles fierce adversaries, and unlocks the mysteries of his own destiny that has been tampered with by the Gods of this universe. How will he react and adapt to his situations?

Shaymon, the man who has achieved the apex of dark magic, is framed as being a Demon King and is killed.

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.