MTL - Doomsday: I Have One More Keyword Than Others - Chapter 150 he must be confused

The dungeons appeared 3,000 years ago. New wealth and ways to gain power poured into the world, tipping the world’s power balance.

People rejoiced in their appearance. Now the poor could thrive, escaping poverty.

There were countless people trying to enter the dungeons. They formed a guild to manage them. We named them the Explorer’s guild.

All who ventured into those dark, evil places given a title to signify their status.

[Dungeon Scout]

A special occupation created to control the people who entered the dungeon.

A young orphan, adopted by dungeon knights and, would eventually follow in their footsteps.

His name was Vincent Schwartz, born in a fractured world of death and decay.

On the day of his 18th birthday, when children could ingest a special fluid and awaken.

Vincent awakened the unique [Summoner] class.

Able to summon distant beings that wielded endless power, able to perform terrifying attacks.

The only problem was the strange system, which appeared out of nowhere.

[The Demonic Choice System]

This system would give him random choices and give different rewards at different intervals in his life.

Would his system help him attain a wonderful life, filled with women he loves?

Perhaps the world will force him to fight, as the dungeon’s purpose remained hidden in shadows.

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.

[SLOW BURN} (CHECK OUT MY NEW MAFIA ROMANCE. OUT NOW!)“You can't hurt me anymore, Ace. I'm not that crybaby you used to know,” she warned, taking a step back.“Who said anything about hurting anyone, darling? There's only one place I need to cry for me. One very,” his eyes trailed down her body, and stopped between her thighs. “Very moist place.” He took two steps forward, and closed the gap between them.Ace is the legitimate heir to the Atticus dynasty, but there's a condition. Grandpa before his death says he cannot fully inherit everything until he gets married, and stays married for at least a year.Quick to think, he finds a solution to his dilemma; A contract marriage. With the help of his personal assistant, Grant, He finds Fay Landon.Dainty Fay that cries a lot, and can talk a storm. He vows it's only a marriage of convenience, until the redhead let's her hair down, and shows him the woman behind the tears.She falls first, but he falls harder.In the middle of the war for a billion dollar empire, heartless Ace Atticus will learn that to come out victorious, he needs a Fay up his sleeve.THIRD MONTH OF WIN-WIN. PLEASE SUPPORT ME WITH YOUR VOTES, COLLECTIONS, REVIEWS, COMMENTS, AND GIFTS. THANK YOU.