Huh? Isn't this an adventure kingdom building game?! - Chapter 87 "Marrying a Wife

Elijah unexpectedly travels back to the day when the virus broke out. Confronted with his zombified roommate and the perilous situation of the roommate's girlfriend, he decides to take action. In this post-apocalyptic world, he vows to become the strongest man and create an incredibly secure refuge.

The story begins with Elijah's rebirth as he discovers the opportunity to change the future. He becomes close companions with his roommate Bella and her husband Alexander. However, when Alexander is infected and turns into a zombie, Elijah must act decisively to protect himself and Bella.

Elijah awakens to a supernatural ability called the “Seed of Consciousness,” which allows him to control zombies, becoming his weapon for survival. He uses this power to strengthen himself continuously and seek the path of survival. However, his relationship with Bella starts to undergo subtle changes, forcing him to confront emotional challenges.

As the story unfolds, readers will immerse themselves in gripping plots and complex character relationships. Elijah's growth, struggles, and emotional development with numerous women in the post-apocalyptic world form the core of the story. It's a world full of challenges and opportunities, and Elijah's narrative is about continuous growth and overcoming oneself, showing readers the hardships of surviving in the apocalypse and the complexity of human nature.

He has won the most flamboyant compliments and the most vicious swear words.

He is a guy with rebellion flowing in every vein in his body.

He’s a white kid who’ll never be a celebrity.

He is a young man from the countryside in the eyes of the public.

He’s Tommy Hawk.

He was born again.

Welcome to the first half of the American Dream and the second half of the American Nightmare.

Let us please, come Tommy Hawke, in the winter of 2022.

- Description from novelbuddy

With a hideous visage they came to be known as goblins.

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.