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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

Uncertainty of War

In the vast encampment where 5,000 soldiers gathered, a palpable tension permeated the air. Suddenly, glowing barriers emerged, gracefully dividing the expansive assembly into two distinct groups, slicing through both warriors and civilians alike. As if orchestrated by an invisible force, these barriers were replicated by the Lightweavers' new sanctuary moving centrally, further segmenting the masses until they formed four distinct enclosures, each progressively more confined than the previous.

 

Whispers rippled through the crowd, bearing ominous prophecies: come dawn, half would find themselves in the slavery chains, while the remainder would face an even darker destiny, death. Many soldiers, grounded by discipline and their years of training, dismissed these murmurs, standing resolute. However, as the curtain of night draped around them and weariness called them to slumber, an unforeseen attack unfolded.