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Building The Ultimate Harem With My Absolute Regression System

shadowofdeath
[ WARNING: R18 MATURE CONTENT] Reth Anchor lived his life as a ghost. The "nice guy" who did the work while others took the credit. The loyal shadow who watched from the sidelines as the "Golden Boys" of the university took everything he desired. He was a spectator to his own life. A tool for the elite to use and discard. And discard him they did. Broken, humiliated, and left for dead in the rain, Reth's final breath wasn't a prayer. It was a curse. [Soul Resonance: 100%] [Condition: Absolute Regression Desire—Verified] [System Binding Initiated: The Absolute Regression System] Reth wakes up two years in the past. He is back in the classroom, back in the halls where he was once a joke. But the man who returned isn't the boy who left. In his first life, he was the one who was played. In this life, he is the one holding the leash. He isn't just seeking revenge. He is seeking total ownership. The wealth his enemies flaunt? It will be his. The status they hide behind? He will crush it. The women they claim to love? They will soon be kneeling at Reth’s feet, begging for a glance from the man they once ignored. The cold beauties who once looked down on him... The seductive teachers... The hidden heiresses... And married women with frustrated nights... They will blush, tremble and want him. As for those who betrayed him? Well they'll kneel and beg but he won't forgive them. "I gave you everything once. Now, I’m taking it all back... and then some." Don't forget to Add to Library and follow the story — daily updates and lots of temptation ahead. # [SYSTEM],[STRONG OVERPOWERED MC],[ MILF], [SMUT], [BEAUTY] [NTR] , [WEAK TO STRONG], [BETRAYAL], [REVENGE] [SCHOOL LIFE]
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I Leash Emperors: The Dead Shout. I Smile

The dead scream for justice. They have been screaming for centuries. In my office on the 88th floor, the sound is indistinguishable from the hum of the paper shredder. I have twelve of history's most dangerous minds in my vault—Caesar, Cleopatra, Napoleon, Wu Zetian, and eight others whose names are synonymous with the word empire. I stripped them of their crowns and their divinity and left them with the only two things that survive death intact: greed, and memory. Then I put them to work. The boardroom is their new battlefield. Stocks are their arrows. Hostile takeovers are their sieges. The First Emperor runs my supply chains with the same draconian efficiency that built the Great Wall. The Queen of the Nile runs my PR division and calls it beneath her. Caesar rewrites the legal architecture of an entire financial district before breakfast and considers it a light morning. The rules are simple. The Emperor with the highest ROI earns twenty-four hours of full sensory restoration—taste, warmth, the burn of real alcohol, everything the synthetic body cannot feel. The Emperor at the bottom earns something else: a Hell Start. Reincarnation as a beggar, a eunuch, a sacrificial lamb in the next cycle. They know this. It keeps them focused. Every full moon, the tavern opens. The millions they killed in their lifetimes gather as my Jury—compressed into a medium that runs on pure hatred, sustained by a spite so concentrated it has proven, against all known physics, to be a measurable energy source. They vote. They decide which of their tormentors leads the next charge, and which of the most venomous among them earns a temporary body to return to the waking world. Wu Zetian shed her imperial robes to kneel at my feet and beg for a private review of her HR directorship. Arsinoe—murdered by her own sister two thousand years ago—spent six weeks haunting Cleopatra's servers and built a perfect weapon before she ever asked me for the body to deliver it. Cleopatra herself believes her beauty is a currency I will eventually accept. She has not yet understood that in this building, the only currency is performance. I do not need loyalty. I need sharp blades. I do not trade in mercy. I trade in ROI. They believe this is my game. They do not ask why I need to win it. Rules? I am the rule. Harem? The highest-tier spoils of a game they don't know the stakes of. Every arc is a different world. Every world is a wound that needs closing. The Emperors do not know this. They never do. Perhaps the last thing standing between their world and oblivion is a man who stopped caring about it long ago. Let the dead shout. I smile. I have to. Tags: #InfiniteFlow #DarkFantasy #HighStakesPolitics #DivineAutocracy #GrimDark #RuthlessMC #HistoricalFigures #DarkHarem Content Advisory: Heavy power dynamics, sensory manipulation, historical figures in morally compromised positions. MC is an unapologetic autocrat. No redemption arcs.
Aetherion_Vael · 2.2k Views