End of Days Game: I'm the Only One Who Can See the Hidden Cues - Chapter 472: The Powerless Fury of Fool

An ordinary high school boy named Max is in his basement watching porn and masturbating. When suddenly, a pop-up ad covered the whole screen!

The apocalypse arrived, and Irving was betrayed and killed by his own girlfriend.After his rebirth, he was chosen by the Will of the Blue Star to be an internal beta tester of the Shelter Game, starting with a [Tenfold Drop Rate] and becoming a [Necromancer]!Ferocious and brutal exotic beasts are all tamed by him, gradually forming a powerful “Exotic Beast Legion” under his command!Building sanctuaries, hoarding supplies, upgrading outer walls, setting traps...Constructing the most powerful fortress in the apocalypse!“Since I have been given a second life, I will trample those who've betrayed me once under my feet!”...When the Dark Lord descended, Irving's shelter had become the strongest on the Blue Star!“You evil creatures, dare to covet Blue Star?”“Come on! Let me show you what true despair is...”“Remember, from now on, Blue Star is under my protection! Got it?”

Zhu Kang, a trafficked soul, was captured by an evil organization and was stripped of his real memories. Unaware of the dangers he worked for this evil corporation as a system.One day, all of a sudden, fifteen men dressed in black started a shoot-out killing all the other systems.In desperation, Kang threw himself into a transmigration device that tossed his soul into a random world.“System 202 has escaped.... a-again.....” one of the black-clothed men said. Trembling, he glanced at their team leader.Kai Alden gritted his teeth. “You let him slip away so easily! Send me into that world. I will capture my dear System and bring him back here,”

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.