I Love Destroying Worlds' Plot [BL] - Chapter 1705 - 23.24 Second Grey Star - Regional Competition

I was just your average burnout. Now I’m a kobold in a dungeon where everything wants to eat me—and frankly, I get it. I look delicious.Reincarnated as the weakest possible monster in the worst possible place, I start with nothing but panic, backward knees, and a skill called Civilization Mimicry—which is sealed. Because of course it is.But survival isn't the story.This is the story of what comes after.Of finding meaning in the scraps. Of building law from ashes. Of kindling memory in a place designed to erase.Because even if the world sees kobolds as nothing, I’ve seen what we used to be.And I’m going to bring it back.Firelight by firelight. Burial by burial. One fragile tradition at a time.Because if the world wants kobolds to be nothing?Then I’ll teach it what nothing becomes when it learns to dream.

Imagination is always pleasant, but reality is cruel. I just wanted a simple life but why am I always getting into trouble?

The end of the world comes suddenly, and when most people turn into zombies, order and morality collapses completely. Our Protagonist is determined to stay alive.But he isn’t completely alone. He has a special pet; a Thousand-Legged Blood Centipede, a powerful creature that gets stronger with every battle.As he fights through the chaos, the centipede transforms into a Six-Winged Blood Centipede, then into an Eight-Winged Golden Centipede, and finally into a Ten-Winged Divine Centipede. Together, they become a powerful team that can change the future, even in the darkest times.The protagonist isn’t a hero; He kills zombies and keeps some in captivity.He saves people, protects people, and draws human blood to feed zombies.As the remaining people fight over what little they have, the idea of right and wrong is forgotten. He walks a thin line between being a hero and a villain, doing whatever it takes to survive.

It was understood that this was a capitalist country, where the possession of the greatest amount of capital determined to whom the nation effectively belonged.The smile that had been resting on William Sheffield’s face was abruptly erased as his expression turned cold. In a tone laced with determination, it was demanded by him that the police be contacted immediately so that they could crush those who stood in their way. The reasoning behind his words seemed clear: if such actions had been taken before by someone like Rockefeller, then why should it not also be possible for Sheffield?A sense of irony hung in the air as the sentiment was expressed—this was America, where each day seemed to unfold as though it were part of an ongoing shootout, with battles fought not just with guns but with power, influence, and wealth.