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I Transmigrated Into A Fantasy World To Farm And Build Houses!

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After transmigrating into a book he had just finished reading, Eric found himself cast as the villainous cannon fodder. The original owner of the body was secretly and wholeheartedly in love with Max, the tribe's strongest warrior, but Max and Michael had grown up together and gradually developed feelings for each other. The original owner tried every means to obstruct them, was eventually exiled by the tribe, and died a miserable death from hunger and cold that winter. Many races existed on this continent, and he was not even human. Eric looked at the piece of grilled meat before him, burnt black as charcoal, and a handful of beans so hard they felt like they could chip his teeth. He looked up at the thatched roof that leaked rain in the summer and let snow through in the winter. Behind him, a small lion cub was wailing for food. Oh, and this little lion cub was also the story's devoted second male lead. The first step was to improve his life. What, the beastmen do not know how to farm? No problem, they can learn. Then they would not have to starve during the winter. Thatched huts, mud houses, and tents could all be replaced! The arrogant Elf race had a strong affinity for plants, which was perfect for farming, and the Dragon race could breathe fire, which was perfect for firing bricks! Humans called the Fantasy Dream Continent a cursed land. Later, a wandering poet would tell tales of the Snow Wolf Tribe who lived there, possessing all sorts of delicacies and fine, home-brewed wine whose aroma could travel for ten miles, leaving a rich aftertaste. Once the rumor spread, countless adventuring parties and mercenaries felt compelled to explore the land, even at the risk of being beaten half to death. Eric utilized the advantages of his bloodline, diligently farming and building infrastructure, leading the tribe toward a better life. It was just that one day he would pick up a prince of the Human race, and the next, a prince of the Elf race. With a prince of the Beastman Kingdom already in his house, Eric was at his wit's end. Perhaps I should just build a nation for all of you! And another thing, you, the main male lead, stop hovering around me! ... Auther: Please forgive my mistakes, as English is not my first language. I appreciate your understanding!
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#000000

Elian Voss makes things look perfect on screens. In 2240, that means designing the digital layer woven into the fabric of reality itself, the invisible architecture that makes an interplanetary civilization feel livable, feel *human*. He is exceptional at his job. He is forgettable everywhere else. Then one morning, without warning, the color black stops existing. Not darkness. Not shadow. Not the concept of absence. The color itself. Every screen across Earth and its eleven inhabited stations throws the same silent error. `#000000` returns null. Scientists dedicate entire processing networks to finding an answer. Governments convene. Religions overflow. The world collectively screams into a void that no longer has a color. Elian stares at his code and thinks it looks *edited.* Not broken. Not corrupted. Clean. Like a single line was removed by someone who knew exactly what they were doing and didn't feel the need to leave a note. So he starts digging. Not out of heroism. Simply because he is the kind of man who cannot leave a bug alone at 3 AM. What he finds will not restore the color. It will not save anything. It will only show one exhausted programmer, in a civilization that can navigate asteroid belts and simulate ecosystems, exactly how mistaken they have been about who is doing the navigating. The color doesn't come back. Elian closes the file. Opens a new one. Gets back to work. "Some bugs were never meant to be fixed. Some were meant to be delivered." #000000 is a sci-fi story with 3 books Book 1: The color of what we built Book 2: The color of where we're going Book 3: The color of what comes next The story itself questions the human fragility that no matter how advance humanity progressed, a single instance can change everything humans knew, their foundation and the way of how humanity perceive life.
ToastedBeans · 8.5k Views

Starting in Terra as Ryougi Shiki

Death came swiftly. A truck, a moment of impact, then nothing. What came after was unexpected. A god, bored and seeking entertainment, offered three wishes and a new world to explore. The choice seemed simple at the time. Ryougi Shiki's template, complete with the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception that see the end of all things. A gacha system rewarding interference with fate through random legendary weapons. And time, endless time, to grow strong enough to survive. Then came Terra. A world of mobile cities fleeing natural disasters. Of crystalline infection that grants power while slowly killing its hosts. Of conflicts between the infected and those who fear them, violence born from desperation on both sides. I arrived knowing nothing. No context, no preparation, just the ability to see death lines on everything and a tanto at my hip. The first days taught hard lessons. That strength alone means nothing without understanding. That people die easily when you know exactly where to cut. That some threats operate on scales beyond mortal comprehension. Then I met Rhodes Island. A pharmaceutical company fighting an impossible war against disease and prejudice. Operators who wielded power with purpose rather than abandon. And a mysterious Doctor who recognized what I was the moment we met. They revealed truths I hadn't considered. That Terra had changed, its timeline fractured by the arrival of others like us. That a goddess calling herself the Lion King conquered an entire nation in three days with divine authority blazing. That more entities from impossible places were appearing, each with their own agendas and power. But simple survival was never the goal. Terra bleeds. The infected suffer systemic oppression. Reunion fights with terrorism born from justified rage. Nations prepare for wars that will kill millions. And somewhere above it all, a goddess prepares continental conquest while treating mortal life as irrelevant to divine purpose. The Mystic Eyes of Death Perception show me how everything ends. Lines traced across reality itself, revealing mortality in all things. Even gods can die if you know where to cut. The question is whether I can grow strong enough, fast enough, to reach those lines before Terra drowns in violence. This is the story of an assassin learning to protect instead of kill. Of gamers coordinating impossible operations with incomplete information. Of a world caught between conflicts it understands and forces it doesn't. The god wanted entertainment. They're going to get a show they'll never forget. Because I didn't come to Terra to watch it burn. I came to see if fiction made real can be saved by someone who shouldn't exist. And I have all the time in the world to find out. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is my own AU so don't be surprised if there are characters in a different place at a different time than the actual plot after all in this story, there is no real, no script. They all have their own plans. Their own goals. But in front of the God's sandbox? All is equal.
ToastedBeans · 76.4k Views