Joy of Life - Chapter 6

Cliche. Another monster progression story. That was probably what you thought when you read the title of my story. And, I can't lie, for the most part, it probably is.But, what else am I supposed to do when I've been thrusted into a world that could kill me in an instant? There's nothing to do but to progress, to devour and evolve. You would do the same too.Such is the basis of a monster.Such is the right of any living being.So that's what I did. I ate, I killed and I hoarded anything I could get my big limbs on. Friendship, allies and love? There used to be a little god calling himself “Heaven's Equal” who spouted of such things, before I ate him. The world went pretty quiet after that.Follow my story. Read for yourself how I evolved from a little monster in a lake I thought was the ocean, all the way into the Titan Of Destruction.What To Expect:- A relatively quick progression story- Ruthless, I mean - Fang Yuag levels - of ruthless protagonist.- A system? that grows stronger along with the protagonist- Big Monsters Duking It Out, with minimal humans/beastmen/elves, etc. . .focus. Basically, monsterverse without annoying ass humans ruining the show.- Did I mention that the protagonist was pretty evil?

【The entire world bullies you, hates you, and isolates you, but your world has light because of him. I hate this world! But I love you!】

Ben was having the worst day of his life—then he died. But instead of moving on to whatever comes next, he woke up in the Wizarding World as Benedict Brown, the alternate male version of Lavender Brown. Which is... concerning, because Lavender Brown did not have a great time during the Second Wizarding War.On the bright side, he’s apparently the Dovahkiin. And he has a Skyrim shop system. So, you know, pros and cons.Can he survive Hogwarts, Death Eaters, and whatever else this world throws at him? Or will he end up as werewolf chow just like Lavender? One thing’s for sure—he’s going to loot everything that isn’t nailed down.

All I ever wanted was for famous detectives like Sherlock Holmes or Arsène Lupin to appear in my dreams and share their wisdom. But instead, why am I hearing the voices of notorious serial killers in my head, guiding me to solve a string of mysterious cases?