The Royal Contract - Chapter 1351: A more evil monster

A normal office worker, Toru Minasuki, was swallowed up by a dimensional fissure and reincarnated into a different world. Upon reincarnation, Toru was given a [skill board] by God. Make the most of it to acquire all the necessary skills! Even though he is an “inferior person,” he’ll make his way to the top!

Julian, the son of Duke Alden and the grandson of Grand Duke Augustus stood Infront of the crystalline ball that emanated mana.The crystal absorbed his mana and started glowing with purplish hue, with a sparks of lightning.“Yes, I have unlocked Lightning Affinity,” Julian said, a spark of excitement lighting up his blue eyes.Suddenly, the ball began absorbing too much mana, Julian's eyes widened in horror as the energy swirled out of control, crackling with an intensity that was and terrifying. Just as he realized the danger, the ball erupted in a blinding flash, a shockwave of power surging outward.Julian wasn't hurt, but he felt a strange sensation as a dark mist swirled in front of him. Suddenly, he saw a strange entity, a shadowy figure, slip into his forehead.Then, Julian heard an unfamiliar sound echo in his head:“WELCOME TO THE MILF SYSTEM.”Connecting....SuccessInitializing.......Success“FUCK THE MILFS AND GET STRONGER, CONQUER THE MILFS, CONQUER THE WORLD.” , The voice saidCuriosity piqued, Julian quickly asked, “Can you tell me more about the MILF SYSTEM?”The voice continued, ”Sure, The MILF SYSTEM will help you reach unimaginable power as a mage. You will need to complete the tasks assigned to you and earn points.“

This is a world shrouded in darkness, and the pervasive black mist erodes all living beings.

Only fire can dispel the darkness and protect mankind.

But the firewood will eventually run out, the fire will eventually go out, and humanity will eventually perish.

until Rhodes came.

- Description from novelbuddy

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.