Simulation Towards Immortality In A Group Chat - Chapter 7 - : Oh, those with kidney deficiency!

Theme: World Creation, Gods, Mixed

Matthias died and became something that he least expected.

”I.. Am God?“

Join Matthias as he travel through galaxies and create all things.

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What would you do if you suddenly gained a power that no mortal man could hope to achieve?

What would you do if all creation suddenly bowed to your power and glory that only lofty Emperors could have?

Heaven and Hell submits to your power, The Immortal Realm fears your existence, The Mortal realm bows before your presence.

Would you like for all the realms to bow and praise even your shadow? All gods to bow before you? The Earthly Kings and Heavenly Rulers to sonorously chant your glorious name?

Or would you like to live the life of mortal men that are doomed to die? Understand poverty and loftiness? Powerfulness and powerlessness? Comprehend knowledge that arrogant gods wouldn't be able to?

Or would you like both?

Join him as he tries to live a life of a True God, Ruler of Creation.

”Are gods the greatest existence in all of the cosmos? No. Why? Gods are only worshipped by mortals who couldn't reach their power. Gods will be powerless in front of true power. They would be powerless in front of me.“

After dying in a car accident, Lin Chu Xia awakens to find herself returned to the age of twenty, the year she was supposed to be married, along with her elder sister Lin Jia Yi who has also been reborn. The first thing her sister does is snatch away the man she was once married to, who in her previous life was extremely wealthy. Not only that, Lin Jia Yi insists on giving Lin Chu Xia her own apathetic and workaholic husband from the past life who rarely returned home.Lin Chu Xia laughs, as this arrangement suits her just fine, hoping her kind sister does not regret her decision. She's curious to see if her indifferent ex-husband can rise to be the highly pursued President Li without her. As for herself, armed with full skills and a space ability, she doesn’t mind the lack of parental love, because her in-laws are there to dote on her. She starts businesses and factories, living a life that becomes more prosperous by the day.As for that workaholic husband who barely comes home twice a year? It doesn’t matter to her, as long as it doesn't interfere with her money-making, she’s content to be his invisible woman in the background....Qin Yang, compelled by his mother’s heartfelt words, returns home to marry a young bride. A man who prioritizes work over family, he thinks providing money is fulfilling his duty as a husband. However, he discovers that his wife has more money, a larger presence, broader connections, and is adored by everyone she meets—leaving him in a daze.Between clenched teeth, Qin Yang decides: If money won’t work, he’ll leave her with kids!

My name is Duncan Grimshaw, A hunter, I just had been married to my wife and we still didn't have any children. One day, While exploring the Dungeon with my Party, we found a strange thing that people will never expect to find in the Dungeon, a child, a small black child that somehow lives in the Dungeon.

Seeing that, I can only wonder ... how can a child exist in the Dungeon? who's are his parents?

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war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”