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My Skills Are All Max-Level

It was originally a game, made to be as realistic as possible with features to match. But as time passed and the game progressed there was no doubt about it. The game encroached upon reality. Not in the traditional sense, that the same monsters and people we had come to know so intimately started to appear in reality. But blank spaces that swallowed the country... the continent. And any that attempted to even reach a finger within those blank spaces of reality were consumed alongside it. I had thought myself average, that I could make some money with this game. Sanctuary. But there was a problem - a boon - whenever I gained a skill, it became max level. There was no exception. So, when the world started to fall apart, and my prowess revealed… They hailed me a hero. Despite the wrongdoings and plundering I had done in the name of wealth and power, they looked to me. To solve their problems and save the world. But could I do it? Demons and beings of absolute power. Such that even my cheat made it only marginally easier. I had no choice. It was either I fought and won, or I cowered and let the world be consumed by the cold devouring void. And so, I fight; from a beginning filled with greed, to a future filled with the hopes and wishes of mankind. Can I do it? "Heh~" Of course I can.

SpacesSnips · Bandes dessinées et romans graphiques
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170 Chs

Update 4.11

Knight pov

Why wasn't I dead? I felt the air rush around me as the sword chopped down like an executioner's. So why? Why was I not dead… why could I still breathe the frigid air beneath that helm of mine.

Why?

I groaned and lifted my arms to push off of the ground. Around me was a surrounding of chairs, each of them held another. Whether they were bare fist, whether they held sword or spear. It was up to the whims of fate.

And here I was, sat upon the same wooden chair and in a meeting of champions. Each of them were responsible for differing duties. One, for example, was the captain of the ground troops, they who held long spears and charged towards the ramports with nothing but vitriol and spite.