Mr. Nian, Your Wife Refuses To Be The Substitute - Chapter 1234

Kay didn't have the best life. Most of it was fairly standard, but his past was marred by a tragedy that changed his entire world. Years later he had managed to mostly rebuild his life, and had started making something of himself.

And then he woke up in a different world. A world of fantasy and [Classes], a world much more dangerous than the one he'd been born in.

The new world he's been dumped into doesn't hold anyone's hand. Even with the bonuses that being an Outworlder brings won't keep him perfectly safe. One mistake could kill him in an instant.

But maybe, with a little bit of help, he could start over once more, and start to make something of himself again. And maybe, just maybe, that something he makes himself into could be amazing. And bloody.

******

As I'm leaning right now there probably will be sexual content later on, but I might change my mind later. There definitely will be death, gore, violence, and blood. Lots and lots of blood.

I changed my mind. No adult stuff in this story.

Rogers Darren is a smoker, drinker, liar, lothario, gold-digger, rule-breaker.At a brutal Marine HQ hearing, Darren faces accusations of scandalous wages, stolen Germa tech, suspicious Celestial Dragon deaths, and a few too many questionable entanglements with nobles-just another day for the greatest disgrace in Marine history.Biting his cigar, Darren simply grins: “I smoke, I drink, I lust for money and women, I crave power, I lie, and I break every rule... but I'm a damn good Marine.”Silence fell like a dropped anchor.(￣□￣；) (ーー゛) (￣o￣)

I had finally done it—achieved the ultimate Paladin build. Maxed stats, impenetrable armor, and so many resistances that death itself had given up on me. I was an unkillable tank, an indomitable force. Nothing could stop me.And then my PC exploded.I died.Irony, thou art a cruel mistress.But instead of the afterlife, I woke up as my Paladin character… in the wrong freaking genre. Instead of castles and dungeons, there were people flying around on swords, shooting qi beams like fantasy laser guns.“This is definitely the wrong genre,” I muttered, watching a pompous young master sneer at me.“Kowtow, kiss my foot, and beg for forgiveness!” he declared.I looked at my imaginary maxed-out health bar, then at his flimsy silk robes.Oh, this was going to be fun.

Mathew survived the entire two weeks of the apocalypse. A great score for someone blessed with brains over the brawn. Yet, even he fell after just fourteen days, giving his all to save the one person he cared for.

But why does a death looks like watching himself from the third person perspective? Is this the purgatory to watch over his own shoulders at the mistakes he made? A punishment for Mathew's sins to repeat those mistakes over and over again?

But wait, what are the three clocks in the corner of his vision, one of which only five minutes away from ticking out?