Mythic Item Obtained Manga Novels & Stories

When my wife, Anna Smith, and I went back to her hometown for the New Year’s, her male best friend, Liam Reid, barged into our bedroom. Late at night, he suddenly unbuttoned his top and exposed his bare chest. “Anna, my imaginary bosom hurts. Please massage them to make me feel better!” Anna wanted to massage his chest when I flipped the tumbler over next to our bed in frustration. Anna’s face immediately fell. She glared at me in hatred as she roared, “He’s experiencing a psychological issue due to hormonal imbalance. Do you even know science? Why is your mind in the gutter?” Liam pretended to cry as he sobbed, “Sawyer, don’t blame Anna. We’re best friends, and we’re basically sisters. “It’s my fault. If I had been born with a real bosom, I’d definitely stay away from Anna.” I looked at his fake demeanor and smirked. I did not tell them that I had obtained a wish stone, and that it allowed me to change one bodily structure. Since Liam desperately wanted to be a woman, I would make his wish come true by giving him a huge bosom. He could massage them however he wanted.

I'm supposed to become the valedictorian of the state, but I decide to not attend the SATs. After all, in my previous life, my best friend, Bianca Walters, had made a pact with a tenfold transfer system. The three-million-dollar prize money I had obtained from becoming the state valedictorian was transferred into Bianca's account. On top of that, it was increased by ten times as well. Just like that, Bianca moved on from wearing faded old clothes to limited branded apparel. She even muttered, "What's the point of being a top scorer even though you're poor? At the end of the day, you'll still slave away for us rich people!" Enraged, I rushed over and demanded Bianca for answers. But my boyfriend, James Tipps, was quick to shield her from me and yelled at me for being a crazy lady who was jealous of others. Since my mom couldn't get her illness treated due to the lack of money, she ended up dying with resentment in her eyes. Overwhelmed by despair, I took my life by jumping off a building. Beep! When I open my eyes again, I realize that I've gotten reborn. This time, I've also made a pact with the tenfold transfer system.

After obtaining the Mech Designer System, Ves aims to create the greatest mechs in the galaxy! In the far future, the galactic human civilization has entered the Age of Mechs. The countless lesser powers of humanity have come to adopt mechs as their main weapons of war. Only a small number of humans have the right genetic aptitude to pilot these destructive war machines the size of buildings. Born to a military family in the edge of the galaxy, Ves Larkinson is one of the many people who lacks the talent to earn glory in battle. Instead, he became a mech designer. Helped by his missing father, Ves has obtained the mysterious Mech Designer System that can help him rise in the galaxy and beyond. His mechs based on the principles of life quickly allows him to rise to prominence. Powerful and highly compatible with mech pilots, his products have the potential to take the market by storm. However, success does not come easily, and countless challenges bar his ability to sell his mechs to a market eager for innovation! With the sins of the human race in the galactic arena slowly catching up, Ves must navigate the perils of the ultra-competitive mech market and maintain control over his growing organization of misfits. This is the golden age of mechs. This is the golden age of humanity. The question is, will it last? "Any challenge can be overcome as long as I design the right mech!"

Crystal Blues, a young woman from a low-class family, endured the tragic loss of her parents when she was just twelve years old. Left with the weighty responsibility of caring for her younger sisters, she faced a challenging path ahead. Fortune smiled upon her when her path crossed with an archangel in the name of Mervin Brooklyn who offered his assistance, thus lightening the burden she bore. As fate would have it, Crystal eventually obtained evidence pointing to her parents' murderers, only to discover that they were part of a formidable and powerful family. Life took an even more complicated turn when she found herself entangled in a complex love triangle. Her affections were torn between Mervin, her guardian archangel, and the daughter of the family responsible for her parents' demise. Fuelled by a burning desire to bring the responsible family to justice, Crystal made the bold decision to reveal the damning evidence she held against them. However, the tables quickly turned, and Crystal's loved ones were thrust into jeopardy, becoming bargaining chips in exchange for the proof of the family's wrongdoing. Now, she stands at a harrowing crossroads, forced to make a life-altering choice that could either rescue her from impending tragedy or condemn her to a painful repetition of history.

At the company’s year-end party, management tried to cut costs by using junk as raffle items. The prize box was filled with bottle caps, instant noodle wrappers, toothpaste boxes, and other trash. Everyone was only allowed to pick one item and scan the QR code on it. Whether you won anything depended entirely on luck. I casually picked up a bottle cap and unexpectedly won a car worth 500,000 dollars. As soon as the vice president found out, he rejected my win and demanded that I hand over the prize. “The company spent 20 dollars to get these raffle items from a recycler. Any prizes won have to be recorded in the books as company assets. They belong to the company.” My boss reprimanded me as well, “Have you lost your mind because you’ve been poor? Do you think you could have won without the company? You don’t know how to be grateful, and now, you’re trying to take company property. Stop causing a scene!” I did not argue and calmly handed over the bottle cap. Then, I turned around and called one of our clients. My boss had forgotten one thing: I was the company’s top salesperson. If he insisted on crossing me, I would make him lose five million.

In the Beast World, elven bloodlines can produce stronger half-breed offspring. After the Great War of the Ancient Races, elves began to classify themselves by the integrity of their wings. Substandard elves could purchase and tame werewolves to serve as their lifelong guards and companions. Before my parents passed away, they ordered a werewolf named Nolan to protect me—and, incidentally, to produce offspring. But that werewolf, who was exceptional in every way, despised me intensely. He would often berate me: “A deformed, worthless elf like you should just disappear. You’re not fit to be my mate!” After he smashed every item in the house yet again, I fled the house in a panic. By chance, I stumbled into an abandoned shelter, where a massive gray wolf’s paw reached out from the shadows and gripped my shoulder. The werewolf’s deep, golden eyes gestured for me to look at the sign standing nearby: ‘Defective Models: Trade -In Welcome.’ Tears welled in his eyes as a low, choked sob escaped his throat: “Master… take me home.” He was right. It was time to replace the one at home with a new one. But when I told Nolan to move out of my house, he braced his paws against the doorframe, his eyes red-rimmed: “You’re abandoning me just for that wild wolf?”

I ended my business trip earlier and went back home, but the moment I pushed the door open, I nearly vomited from the rotten stench that stank up the entire house. Ten minutes ago, Selena Niles, my wife, posted in the Moms Unite group. [I read together with Dolce today again. It might be tiring bringing up a kid, but mothers need to be part of their children’s growth.] Dolce looked up. Her face was dirty, and she said to me sadly, “Dad, Mom is playing with Howard in the bedroom.” Howard Zimmer. That was my childhood best friend. I treated him like a brother of mine, gave him a job, and let him move into my house. I was not expecting him to “take care” of my wife and daughter like this during the few days I was away on a business trip. While I squashed down my anger and cleaned the living room, I found a long, black thing among Dolce’s toys. At first I thought that it was my stun baton, but when I did a Google search on it with my phone, the item description made my stomach churn. [An adult toy. Silent. Easy to carry and can vibrate.] Meanwhile, my stun baton was nowhere to be found. At 2 a.m., a pained screech tore through the air.

The night Gloria Leach—my husband's ex—died in the rain, he floored it and drove us off a cliff. That's when it clicked. Evan Patterson had always hated me for getting between him and Gloria. Then I woke up, I was back on the wedding day. This time, he didn't even pause. Ditched the rings. Ran straight to her outside the church. I didn't cry. Didn't make a scene. I just called it off. While they turned their reunion into a show, I said yes to someone else. In this life, Evan and I were strangers. Until eight years later. An auction. I placed a no-cap bid on the final item—sapphire cufflinks. Won. I was leaving when Evan stepped in front of me, scowling. "Robyn, stop embarrassing yourself. Even if you bought every cufflink on earth for me, I still wouldn't love you. Gloria's the only one in my heart." I didn't even look at him. Just reached for the little girl beside me. "Sweetheart, say hi to the gentleman." He saw her face—mine, copied clean. His eyes went red, and his grip snapped around my wrist. "She's our daughter?"

On the day the male influencer patient was discharged, he posted a tearful video accusing my chaste, principled doctor wife of sexually assaulting him. In the clip, he cowered in a corner of the hospital, trembling, his clothes disheveled. With a terrified cry of "Dr. Shelby," he abruptly cut the footage. Overnight, my wife became a monster in a white coat—public enemy number one across the internet. We begged him, again and again, to come forward and clarify the truth. Instead, he posted an injury assessment report and wept about being bullied by his doctor. My wife had no way to defend herself. She was suspended pending investigation—and in the end, she leapt from the thirtieth floor. I endured humiliation and waited for the truth to surface. When it finally did, I obtained a reexamination report that proved her innocence. But by then, no one cared about the truth anymore. And I, consumed by despair, died of cancer. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day that patient was first admitted. This time, I begged my wife to take leave—I wanted to take her away from this doomed fate. But my gentle wife wrapped her arms around me, her eyes red, and said, "Don't be afraid, honey. This time… I won't run away."

There had been a shortage of faculty at the start of the freshman year, so I had temporarily stepped in to take on the role of a student advisor. To avoid unnecessary trouble, I had deliberately dressed down in the plainest shirt I could find and put on a pair of thick black-rimmed glasses. However, a troublemaking student brought a group of people and blocked me on the field just as the opening ceremony ended. "Hey, old hag, you're done being a faculty member in Salt-U. How dare you dress like that on purpose to mess with my eyes! Strip and get on your knees, and I might let you off this once!" I narrowed my eyes, irritation rising. Then, I reminded him of the student code of conduct. He immediately blew up. "Cut the act! Who do you think you're fooling? My dad's the Director of Academic Administration! He's the one in charge of your evaluations!" The field suddenly fell silent, and all the freshmen began sneaking glances in our direction. I unhurriedly took off my glasses and let out a low chuckle as I looked down at the meeting notes in my hand. His father was a director, he thought that was enough of a reason for him to behave so imperiously. In that case, I supposed that the first item on the board meeting agenda that day would be the dismissal of the Director of Academic Administration.