The Cannon Fodder in the Global Apocalypse Game lives a leisurely life - Chapter 450: Death Island (2)

[From the Author of Author's POV...]

Emotions are like a drug to us.

The more we experience them, the more we become addicted.

The hardest part is not letting them consume us.

But it's already too late for me.

I've already been swallowed whole.

***

I had no knowledge of the game.

I was meant to have died.

And yet, I found myself in this situation.

A game I had never played before. A character I was unfamiliar with, and... A world that seemed to want to swallow me whole with every move I made.

What the hell is going on?

...and who am I?

……………………………………………………………

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Got roomed with another straight man in a love hotel and had to share a bed. Meeting by the road side on a certain day, the boy in his arms was smiling wildly.

Hey, let me explain myself, don’t go ahead of yourself. I was just being a samaritan. I had to help, even if I lied about being a straight man like you.

Are you running away after getting me excited? Let’s see what kind of ending you want today.

Since you all asked for a wife chasing crack, then let’s perseverate to the end. I’m not crazy, you are the one who is crazy. This is probably a crack but still gentle gong and a shou fighting against the crack story. Lighthearted! Comedy! No brain cells will be lost!

- Description from Novelupdates

Karl awoke to find himself shockingly reduced to a crippled Evil God confined within a bottle.The Fischer family had inadvertently become his favored members, sharing a fate connected by blood throughout the generations.They established a secret clan, infiltrated the state, manipulated wars, ascended the God Pantheon stairway, and fought for the honor and future of the family.They were assassins lurking in the shadows, beloved scholars, esteemed priests, powerful dukes, and legends in heroic epics.From budding to robust growth, steampunk evolved; the Spirit Realm descended through dreams; witches and ancient gods stepped forth, and people listened to the lost whispers at their ears.They were both the creators and the enders of stories.Generation after generation, in a continuous succession, they marched forward.“Step over my corpse and go on,” he said.