Reincarnator - Chapter 5: Gangnam Station (1)

“Young man… if you could go back in time, what period would you like to be in?”

There are 2 paths to achieve the peak of power, the Tenth Stage.Gain the recognition of Laws and ascend as a God.Or Cultivate thyself as an Immortal.With his Master unparalleled in Energy Manipulation and Space-Time, watch as Fang Lin achieve both!!!Burdened with a master that can shake cities and crush mountains, Fang Lin travels the realm, cleaning up after his master's messes!!!Discord Link: https://discord.gg/uS8FvQG

In the wake of the apocalypse, betrayal doesn't just stab you in the back—it bites. Zorvax learned this the hard way. Abandoned by those he trusted, he didn't just become another number in the legion of the undead. No, his fate was far more peculiar.“I thought death was the end... I was wrong,” Zorvax mutters, his voice a gravelly echo of his former self. He's a zombie, but with a twist—he's got his human mind intact. Trapped in a decaying body with an insatiable hunger, Zorvax finds himself in a gruesome predicament that's just the beginning of his ordeal.Enter the 'Zombolution System,' a mysterious power he awakens that's as cryptic as it is potent. “They wanted a monster? I'll show them the true meaning of terror,”Zorvax boasts, with a smirk only a sentient zombie could muster. This dark gift is his ticket to ascend beyond a mere walking corpse, promising to unlock abilities that could crown him the emperor of the undead.As Zorvax hones his newfound skills, the line between man and monster blurs. Will his human intellect triumph, or will the beast within claim the throne? “This world has no place for the weak,” he arrogantly declares, ready to challenge fate itself.

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.