DxD: Building A Demon Clan From Scratch. - Chapter 15: Spirit-Seer Devil

MAIN CHARACTER GET TRANSFERED TO ANOTHER WORLD WHERE HE USE TO INCREASE CULTIVATION OF HIS WORLD

Second Awakening? A System? Having lost the battle of the Dark Catastrophe to the demons—spawns of the Dark Gods— humanity is given a chance at making things right once again. Born as a twin into a family of high ranking talent awakeners, Damien Terrace is met with trouble when it is his turn to perform the ritual. After awakening the E-Rank Summoner talent, Damien loses everything to his twin. Exiled by his father to perish away from them, Damien goes through a second awakening that changes the play field for him. Ding! [The God of Summons is furious and has blessed you with a system!] [You have fused with the Mythics Summoning System—A system that only allows you to summon mythical beasts!] [Obtain nineteen Magic Essence Cores to boost your core to the next level!] [Slay 200 more demons to unlock another summon!] Damien’s only option is to evolve!

The Soaring Dragon Continent is a world of summons, you can only become strong if you become a summoner! Yue Yang, an average high school boy, was suddenly transported into this world. When he woke up, he was greeted with a lot of worried faces and found out that he had assumed another person’s identity. Turns out he’s the good-for-nothing third son of the Yue Family, who had just recently drowned himself because of a failed engagement. Unlike the third son of the Yue Family who was useless in summoning, Yue Yang succeeded in making a contract with a summoning grimoire on his first try, even when the other guy failed for the past fifteen years. Others would have a headache making contracts with beasts afterwards, but countless beasts tried to gain favour with Yue Yang instead, acting like a good kid before him.

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.