SSS-Ranked Demon Hunter: The Prodigy - Chapter 87: Aruya, Part 1

When an unlucky, awkward virgin dies in the most humiliating way possible (you don’t wanna know), he wakes up not in heaven… but a mechanical construct powered by divine magics built for a single purpose: Sex.In a fantasy world cursed by a sexually frustrated demon queen, men can’t keep it up, women haven’t had a decent orgasm in centuries, and birth rates have plummeted harder than masculine egos. Society is teetering on the edge of population collapse—and the only thing standing between mass hysteria and sweaty salvation... is him.His new owners? A smoking-hot, elven herbwitch MILF and her fiery half-dwarf, half-elf genius daughter who created him as their latest “intimate invention.” After a magical screw-up gives him a soul (and an upgrade below the belt), he becomes the only pleasure unit capable of leveling-up his powers of pleasure, independent thought—and maybe... emotional connection?Now powered by aphrodisiacs, awkwardness, and sheer mechanical stamina, our hero must navigate lusty labs, intense moaning missions, and a society starving for satisfaction... all while trying to survive being “tested” and “reviewed” by every noblewoman, monster girl, and lonely tavern wench in the realm.------------------WARNING: May contain excessive thrusting, magical lubricant, seductive stat screens, and one very confused virgin trying to do the right thing! Reader Beware... and bring tissues.

“We campaigned for a century, prevailing against all obstacles. The sole exception being the Marshal, who could not be defeated…… the military fame of the Marshal endures, yet the Alliance has been utterly crushed. From this day forth, all the glory belongs to the Marshal, himself.”

As the Alliance government that stood for a thousand years crumbled, the Galactic Empire rose into power. The supreme military leader of the Alliance, Gavin Silla, refused to surrender and chose to fight to the death for his nation.

“Your Majesty, in the Age of Old Earth, mint blossoms were believed to be an omen for reunion. In the language of flowers, it means—

—hoping to see you once more.”

- Description from Novelupdates

What’s worse than finding out you’re that Louis XIV when you’re a baby?

Of course there is, for example, it’s still a magic version.

- Description from novelbuddy