the Majin
By @joao filipe ribeiro volochtchuk
Yafér, the impossibly ancient First Son of Lucifer and Lilith, a Majin with a perfect physique, ethereal face, and a flowing purple toga, reigns supreme as King of Olympus. With eyes of void and pink irises, he commands a terrifying power known as 'The Presence,' allowing him to warp reality with a thought. Yet, even as he stands as a cosmic king, adored by his parents and even Javé, his existence feels… unfulfilled. Despite being inselable and without weakness, having created galaxies and annihilated pantheons, a deep void echoes within him. When a new cosmic threat emerges, one that challenges not his power but his very understanding of freedom and love, Yafér must confront the hollow victory of unchallenged omnipotence. His vast power will be tested not against gods, but against the very ennui of eternal perfection.
20
Brushstroke of the Lazy Immortal
By @john1208
I just wanted to paint the perfect plum blossom. Is that too much to ask? Apparently, yes. My sect forced me into an arranged engagement with Teng Qingshuang - the realm’s strictest, most rigid Heavenly Dao enforcer. During our disastrous engagement banquet, arrogant sword cultivators crashed the party to assassinate the 'useless artisan' groom. I was too busy admiring the dramatic lighting to care, until one of them bumped my arm and ruined a master-crafted brush. Annoyed, I drew a cage in the air with crimson ink. Suddenly, the loudest martial tyrant was screaming from inside my landscape scroll, permanently trapped as a 2D background peasant. That’s when I realized my Dao of Everyday Life isn't just art - it overwrites reality. The truly terrifying part? I'm discovering hidden, world-altering brushstrokes painted across the sky that I definitely didn't draw today. My past self rigged the entire universe as a giant canvas, leaving behind a trail of pre-painted traps just waiting for me to wake up. Now, I'm dragged into a high-speed war against arrogant traditionalists. Yesterday, I cut a mountain in half with a single brushstroke just because it ruined the horizon's composition. Can I finish my masterpiece before the Heavens erase us?
5
Deep-Fried Masterpieces
By @john1208
Bram Corten’s morning was perfectly normal until a dimensional rift tore through his kitchen, and the Awakening assigned him the absolute lowest-tier class in the Aegis-Spire: Chef. Restricted to cooking only 'Basic Meals,' he is doomed to peel potatoes while the elite Vanguard fight the monstrous Null-Swarms. But Bram is too hot-tempered to accept a life in the cafeteria. In a fit of rage, he throws a cheap thrift-store painting into his wok and turns up the heat. The System glitches, registering the canvas as a 'Basic Meal' - and the painted knight steps out of the sizzling oil with god-level stats. Soon, Bram is deep-frying landscapes to summon impenetrable fortresses and boiling abstract art to unleash reality-bending horrors. When a city-destroying behemoth attacks, Bram one-shots it with a pan-seared masterpiece, leaving the elites utterly speechless. However, his infinite scaling triggers a red alert. The terrifying 'System Virus' that authorities have been hunting? That’s just Bram making lunch. Now, the System is actively deploying emergency patches to nerf him. With his loyal best friend Joost hiding a dangerous secret, can Bram out-cook the laws of reality before he is deleted?
5
Subletting the Multiverse
By @john1208
Orik Vang is drowning in debt, living in a windowless 3x3 meter box in the subterranean Sinks of the modern metropolis, Korsav. His life is a dead end until he receives the [Spatial Sublet System]. The missions are concrete: survive a syndicate ambush, expose a corporate heir, or clear an illegal subterranean fighting ring. The rewards are literal. Complete a task, and a new door appears in his cramped apartment, leading to a mana-crystal greenhouse, an alien armory, or a grand alchemy lab. But there is a catch that makes this fresh. Orik isn’t just given these spaces; he is leasing them from parallel-universe masters. To keep his new physical territories and the overpowered skills that come with them, he must pay bizarre forms of rent - and occasionally deal with alternate-dimension warlords crashing on his couch. As Orik uses his expanding, impossible mansion to climb Korsav's ruthless social ladder, the corporate elites begin to wonder where his sudden wealth and power are coming from. Can Orik conquer the city’s monopolies before his interdimensional landlords evict him from reality?
3
Ctrl-Alt-Resurrect
By @john1208
Tigran Vartanian is a man of logic, which is why he attended the high-society engagement party of the woman he secretly loves, Narine, simply to pay his respects. But when the sky cracks open and bored deities turn Earth into a survival-based casino game, logic goes out the window. Especially when a cybernetic monstrosity crashes through the ceiling and flattens the wedding cake. Discovering a unique glitch in the new world's physics, Tigran realizes he can reanimate not just flesh, but circuitry. Armed with a phasing ghost assassin and a screaming former wedding planner as his sidekick, Tigran begins snowballing his power. He loots biomechanical bosses, resurrects heavy artillery, and eventually conquers a colossal sea-leviathan to ferry his undead cyborg army across the flooded oceans. But beneath the absurd spectacle of his growing mechanical horde lies a terrifying secret he alone has deduced: the gods only rented Earth's "server" for 100 days. Can he beat the divine house edge and save Narine before the apocalypse unplugs them all?
3
Overpowered, Overworked, and Out of Coffee
By @john1208
I was just trying to brew my morning espresso when my kitchen exploded, dropping me directly into the war-torn realm of Osh-Tirna. Now, I apparently possess world-shattering magic, an annoying holographic interface that sounds exactly like my own voice, and a terrifying ancient dragon that I accidentally squished into a purring house cat named Crumb so he'd stop blocking my view. The Ash-Blood Vanguard, an army of self-proclaimed invincible demonic warlords, keeps interrupting my attempts to scavenge rusty spoons and chipped wooden goblets. I just swat them away like flies, but the locals are losing their minds. When I cooked a standard bowl of oatmeal to calm my nerves, the aroma accidentally triggered mass divine ascension among the local knights. Now, a ridiculously stubborn fortress commander named Veylin won't stop following me around, convinced I'm their prophesied savior. The worst part? I keep finding ancient ruins filled with inside jokes only I would know. Did my past self really build this entire stupid world just to mess with my future reincarnation?
3
Matchmaking My Murderer
By @john1208
I died on the end of Dragomir Rostova's shadow-blade. I know this because I just woke up with memories of my past life right before the Sable Vanguard squad assignments. Naturally, I did what any sane, survival-oriented girl would do: I faked a highly contagious, embarrassing magical bowel disease in front of the entire courtyard to avoid being paired with him. It didn’t work. My commander magically healed me on the spot, the whole fortress laughed, and now I’m stuck on a two-person elite monster-hunting team with my future killer. My new survival plan? Get him a girlfriend. If Dragomir is busy swooning, he won't have time to murder me. But every time I try to shove him into the arms of a blushing sniper, a cursed bounty we accidentally touched snaps us back together. We are physically and magically tethered. I can't escape him. Worse, while we're trapped in a collapsed basilisk burrow, I catch this supposedly ruthless killer gently feeding my six-legged pet ferret. If he's so gentle, why did he kill me? And why does the mysterious shadow-beast hunting our outposts feel exactly like the dark magic he wields?
3
My Telekinesis is a Little Too Heavy
By @john1208
I was sprinting for my life from a pack of feral, three-legged academy pugs. Not because I was weak, but because if I sneezed, my ancient gravity magic would flatten them into pancakes. In my past life, I was a battlefield god who arrived just minutes too late to save my little sister from a catastrophic dungeon break. Given a second chance at the Yildiz Institute, I've decided to lay low. My master plan? Pretend to be a pathetic telekinetic, silently build my strength, and avoid the military draft. It was going perfectly. Sure, I had to endure the constant mockery of Barlas, a walking jewelry store of a noble who bought his combat ranks. And yes, my unspoken, bittersweet crush on Shirin - who died fighting in my previous life - was as painful as ever. But I am shy, and fiercely stubborn. I wouldn't break cover. Then Barlas wouldn't shut up during our combat exam. The chiming of his bought legendary artifacts gave me a migraine. Annoyed, I slipped off my suppression ring to rub my temples, accidentally dropped it, and generated a gravitational field that crushed his million-coin armor into a tin can while flattening half the arena. Now the whole school is staring. Can I still convince them it was just really aggressive telekinesis?
3
The Shameless Architect of Broken Knights
By @john1208
Xiloe was supposed to die quietly on the blood-stained steps of the Xoltar Ziggurat, a humiliated scapegoat for the weeping, scheming 'Sun-Vessel' Xalyce. Instead, Xiloe turns her own public execution into a stand-up routine, roasts the high priest, and dives into the mud to save Tazcal - Xalyce’s fiercely loyal, fatally wounded knight, discarded like trash after fighting a behemoth for a mere decorative feather. By showing the stoic, broken warrior the first unconditional affection he has ever known, Xiloe accidentally triggers a dimensional fracture. Thrust into a high-speed, action-packed chase across multiple worlds, Xiloe makes it her mission to rescue every tragic, betrayed vanguard she can find. But why does her transmigration interface speak in her exact sarcastic voice? As her rescued knights grow brutally overpowered and exact bloody revenge on the pristine white lotuses who wronged her, Xiloe realizes her own past self wiped her memories and designed this chaotic journey. Can she survive long enough to uncover what apocalyptic threat her past self was building this terrifyingly devoted army to fight?
2
The Beast-Healer's Midnight Mistake
By @john1208
Tivya's morning started with burnt toast, a rogue baby griffon shattering her window, and the terrifying Captain of the Talon-Vanguard barricading her veterinary clinic. Bramon Vask hasn't slept in months due to a volatile beast-curse causing chronic insomnia, and since human doctors have failed, he's violently demanding the city's most famously ditzy beast-healer treat him instead. There is just one massive problem. Bramon is currently tearing the city apart for two people: the mastermind behind an illegal chimaera smuggling ring, and the mysterious woman who slept with him in Room 808 and vanished. Tivya is the one-night stand. And the document she accidentally dropped in his bed? A highly illegal chimaera-breeding contract that ties her to the smuggling ring. Trapped in a lethal cat-and-mouse game, Tivya plays the cheerful airhead by day while desperately trying to clear her name by night. Bramon is slowly falling for his maddeningly upbeat doctor, completely unaware she's the fugitive he's hunting. But as the smuggler conspiracy deepens, the two manhunts are about to violently collide. What happens when the city's most ruthless hunter realizes his primary suspect is the very woman treating him?
2
Sweatpants and Secret Billionaires
By @john1208
I just wanted to nap. But after striking a desperate deal with my nagging mother - one blind date in exchange for six months of absolute peace - I dragged myself to the meeting spot in my favorite stained sweatpants, fully expecting the guy to run for the hills. Instead, Corso, a remarkably handsome but supposedly broke freelance techie, didn't even blink. I proposed a strictly fake, tax-benefit marriage of convenience to solve both our family problems. I thought I was a genius who had hacked the system. I was wrong. I completely misunderstood the rules: the marriage was legally binding, and my 'broke' husband was playing for keeps. Now, I'm exhausted. I'm secretly Korsaka City's top retrieval operative, forced to fight off rival syndicates while pretending to be a normal civilian housewife. Meanwhile, Corso keeps spoiling me, treating me to stays in a hyper-luxurious mega-mansion that he swears is just an 'Airbnb he got a promo code for.' I almost believed his poor-guy act, until his ultra-rich, terrifyingly snobby mother kicked down the door of our crappy cover apartment, screaming about her billionaire heir living in a dumpster. Just who exactly did I marry?
2
Sowing Seeds in the Slaughter Zone
By @john1208
I'm dodging venomous stingers on the 4th Floor of the Obalis Spire when it hits me: this blood-soaked dirt has the exact pH needed for my heirloom tomatoes. I'm Tiras, and while the rest of humanity is screaming about the monster apocalypse, I'm just trying to run a farm. My past self apparently regressed my soul to save the world, but instead of god-tier sword skills, he left me a sarcastic system interface and a bag of enchanted seeds. Now, I'm throwing exploding vines at monsters by day and aggressively gifting vegetables by night. My best friend Orikas is definitely hiding a massive secret, and Yenna - the terrifyingly gorgeous Guildmaster I am desperately in love with - keeps trying to rescue me from dungeons I've already turned into orchards. Things are escalating fast: I've got a Minotaur boss pulling my plow, a Floor 50 Warlord addicted to my magical espresso, and the global economy just crashed so hard the government is begging to pay me taxes in onions. But with the Spire expanding, can my chaotic combat-farm save the world before the final floor collapses?
1
Sizzling Survival at the End of the World
By @john1208
I was perfectly happy playing the clueless, smiling scavenger in Bastion Khargai, surviving on chalky gray nutrient tubes like everyone else. Then a rusted drone delivered a bizarre package: a pristine iron wok and a cryptic letter from my vanished grandfather. The moment I touched the metal, the Hearthfire Protocol bound to my soul, demanding I cook a three-course meal from scratch or spontaneously combust. Suddenly, I’m dodging mutated Shulmus-beasts to harvest radioactive truffles and turning an abandoned slum bunker into a high-speed, flame-throwing kitchen. My cheerful incompetence is a great cover for my sharp survival instincts, but even I couldn't predict the chaos. Ganzorig, the icy CEO who controls our post-apocalyptic dome, took one bite of my braised wasteland-pork and lost his damn mind. Now, ruthless syndicate bosses are literally fist-fighting in the toxic rain, offering millions in neo-credits for a VIP plastic stool. But my System just revealed a terrifying secret: the countdown isn't just for my life. Can I cook fast enough to save a dying world, and will Ganzorig ever realize the girl behind the counter loves him as much as his impending doom?
0