MTL - Divine-grade Evolution: God! My Gold Fish Is A Dragon! - Chapter 209 1 commission

She was once the all-commanding queen of business, but when she woke up once more, she found herself disguised as the second young master of the Prime Minister’s residence!

Sivis was transported into the game Gandanyir.In a world where nobles monopolize extraordinary powers while commoners, barely better than pigs and dogs, suffer endless torment, he inherited the title of the Evil God.By continuously slaying enemies, Sivis could earn Soul Points, which allowed him to enhance his monsters.Goblin → Elemental Goblin → High-level Goblin.Skeleton Soldier → Skeleton Mage → Bone Dragon.Stone Golem → Fire Demon → Carved Gargoyle....In order to strengthen his monsters, Sivis started wars, annexed nations, and slaughtered countless nobles and kings.He also casually gathered numerous helpless commoners, bringing them under his domain system, improving agricultural and industrial technologies, ensuring that these people had enough to eat, teaching them to read, and turning them into the creators of his domain's wealth, which he ruthlessly exploited.But... Sivis had two doubts.First, why is it that his subordinates are always bringing him women?First, it was the Saintess from the Church, then a peerless female knight, followed by a princess from the kingdom, a succubus from hell, an angel from the Holy Hall...Second, why, as an Evil God, are countless people calling him the Savior, the Wise King, and the Benevolent Father of all beings???

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”

A Speedster in a Fantasy World