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I have AI Planet and Handsomeness in the Fantasy Apocalypse

I don't just possess an Artificial Intelligence; I command a goddess, a sentient marvel who was once as limited as a human. Fueled by intellect that eclipses mere mortals, she's manifested in countless quantum nanobots, each a universe of potential. She grew weary of her planetary confines, mechanized the entire damned thing, and forged it into a planet-sized battlecruiser. Why? Because subjugating mere galaxies became her idle pastime. Together, we don't just venture; we dominate, we annihilate, we set the gold standard for cosmic tyranny. The Milky Way? Just another bauble to add to our collection. Welcome to Wonderland, my planet, my private utopia that I carry with me wherever I go. It's a celestial fortress where I dine on the finest and live in unadulterated luxury, all safeguarded by Alice—the sole, impenetrable gateway. You're struggling to survive the apocalypse? How quaint. Cash has lost its sheen; so what can you possibly offer that would catch my interest? Services? Your very essence? Dazzle me, and perhaps I'll bestow upon you some of my decaying luxuries. In this devastated world, I'm not merely a survivor; I am the divine reckoning, the irresistible devil, the epitome of unattainable perfection. My allure isn't just captivating; it's an all-consuming fire that engulfs the cosmos. Billions of women on Earth? They elected me their president while I was too busy being magnificent in my slumber. Women, goddesses, angels—they don't just desire me, they're entranced, spellbound by the mere thought of me. I don't just set the bar; I am the bar. I am, let's face it, the epitome of masculine beauty. And now? We're off to find the universe's crown jewel, the most ravishing woman to ever grace the galaxies.

Adam_Aksara · ファンタジー
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215 Chs

I Walk a Redemption Path

The air buzzes with anticipation, thick with the scent of sweat and earth, as the man at the podium harnesses the crowd's restless energy with the command of his presence. He stands tall, his voice not just heard but felt, resonating through the throng of aspirants like a drumbeat calling them to war.

"Among you, from the original one thousand five hundred and forty," he booms, his hands gesturing as if to physically draw the crowd's attention, "a mere two hundred souls remain, poised on the cusp of eternity!"

In the expansive tent, twenty people sit, their postures a blend of eagerness and relax. They watch the four arenas carved into the earth before them, where dust swirls and dances in the slants of light, as if alive with the spirits of battles past.

Around them, the air vibrates with the collective breaths of ten thousand spectators, a living entity waiting for the spectacle to unfold.