The Cult Leader in the Clergy Academy - Chapter 194

You know what’s great? Turning eighteen.You know what’s not so great? Opening your eyes to a room you don’t know, followed by the world's most intense headache.This is how my story started. Where it goes from here is anyone's guess.---This is a Pokemon fanfic about a girl that gets brought into the Pokemon world from Earth.---This is my first time writing a fanfic so take it easy. Helpful criticism is appreciated and I may ask for suggestions but in the end I am writing this because I want to. I'm not sure what tags and genre will encompass this story but I will update it as it evolves.

Somebody once told a joke.A man ran in place all his life. He worked a job he didn't love for people he couldn't stand. But at the end of the day, the number in his bank account went up.That man got a second chance at life. He woke up in another world, full of adventures and romances and monsters and gods. And floating above his head he saw the number “1”. So what did he say?“Gosh I better make the number go up.”Not today. Not for this old soul. Reborn as a beast of battle meant to live a short life and die screaming, Garek refuses. He puts the madness of skills and levels behind him and sets out to found a little farmstead. He grows crops. Maybe someday he'll get a pig, and have bacon.It's a shame the world won't let him be. It's a shame that the warmongers and level-grinders hate nothing more than a soul at peace.He put down his sword for a plowshare, but when trouble comes calling, he'll pick it up again.

Perhaps the paintings in a museum are subjected to more nonsense than you would hear anywhere else in the world.The language that comes out of an artist’s life is the painting itself. It contains the most ordinary lives that know failure, desire, recoiling in fear, and compromise.Learning is about understanding that language. We miss much of what the paintings speak because there is no way to ask the long-dead painters about the philosophy of their lives.In an alleyway in the residential area of Jongno, there’s a peculiar art gallery. This place enables us to transcend such limitations. By sheer coincidence, I ended up visiting that place and began living an entirely different life.

“I am Yang Jian. By the time you read this, I've already been dead...”A strange parchment, an eye that peeks into the darkness. This is the memoir of a person who survived.