System Mga Nobela at Kwento

After I was caught in a dockside explosion, I was bound to a Survival Program. It gave me twenty-five years and four designated targets. If even one target’s Love Score or bond score reached 100%, I could wake up in my real world. But I failed all four. Because every target I tried to reach eventually turned toward Sophia Lane, the heroine of this world. They called my pain a performance. They called my tears manipulation. They said I was only pretending to break down so they would choose me over Sophia. But if they never loved me, why did they lose control when my mission failed and I chose to leave this world for good?

Blood Demon Vampires are naturally born to be cold-blooded, ruthless, self-centered, and blood-sucking demons every time the sun goes down. Let's bring their kinds to a brand-new story, shall we? What if the vampires were befallen into a cursed system where killing is no longer a formidable solution for their thirst for blood? Instead of merciless killings, they are required to accomplish humanitarian missions in order to survive. One human saved is an hour additional of their lifeline in the human world. The more humans they saved, the longer life they get. Then were measured when this one-of-a-kind woman appeared in their lives. The only woman who awakens their dormant vampire's thirst for blood.

One life for another. That is the rule of the Aftergame. Lena was a ghostwriter who lived in the shadows—until a devastating betrayal by her sister pushed her into the path of a speeding truck. She expected the void. Instead, she woke up in a sadistic, system-driven purgatory where the dead must compete for a second chance at life. In this gore-soaked nightmare, survival has a name: Riven. A lethal player with eyes like cold flint, Riven breaks the game’s cardinal rule to save Lena, making them both targets of the system’s wrath. But as they reach the final level, the horrific truth unvails. Riven isn’t a player. He is the Executioner—a sentient program designed to mimic love, only to deliver the ultimate soul-crushing betrayal. But Riven has developed a terminal malfunction: he truly loves her. Now, Lena is back in the land of the living, but the world is starting to pixelate. To save her, the machine that was meant to kill her has built her a cage. And in the Aftergame, mercy is the most terrifying fate of all.

After surviving the brutal apocalypse for ten years, hardened survivor Hayley Reid was betrayed by her base and unexpectedly woke up two weeks before the apocalypse began. Back in time, her useless father and stepmother were still pressuring her to give up her house for her brother and his newlywed wife. This time, Hayley didn’t hesitate to sell them the house for dirt cheap. While they celebrate this great deal, Hayley went crazy stockpiling supplies. With the help of the super base system’s overpowered perks, she built an unbeatable shelter. While everyone else was stuck in zombie chaos, Hayley relaxed in her fortress like she was on vacation. While everyone else struggled to find food, her dog enjoyed a full buffet every day. While everyone else risked their lives squeezing into crowded survivor camps, Hayley’s base stood as the strongest steel fortress in the whole world!

For five years, I pursued the heir of the throne, Christof. One day, a large chunk of text floated in the sky. [Sweetheart, stop being so stubborn. That useless prince isn’t worth it.] [Just look at Prince Harald. He’s had a crush on you for the longest time!] I turned to look at the unruly Harald. He stiffened as his face turned dark. “Why are you staring at me? Go find your precious Christof.” [You fool. You’ve been hugging your pillow at night while saying her name.] [This is how you lose a wife.] [Mr. Ladies’ Man, you’ve fallen speechless around Louisa this whole time, haven’t you?!] I cautiously handed him the elderflower wine I had brewed myself. He snatched it from me and said, “Oh, so you noticed I’m thirsty? Good. You’re not completely useless.”

I have the potential to win the championship of the math competition, and yet I hand in a blank answer sheet during the exam. In my previous lifetime, I was known as the math prodigy. But no matter which competition I participated in, my boyfriend's childhood friend, Alyssa Ford, would always score an extra 20 marks more than my score. I refused to believe that Alyssa could best me all the time, so I performed extraordinarily well in the math competition. Just as I thought I'd come out as the champion, Alyssa still scored 20 marks more than my current score. Thanks to her outstanding results, she stole the title that was supposed to be mine. Since I couldn't become the champion, I lost the prize money the school had promised to give me. Naturally, I broke down emotionally because I planned on using the money on my parents' life-saving surgery for their cancer. My parents ended up dying in the end. Unable to handle the blow, I took my life shortly afterward. Even when I breathed my last, I could never figure out why Alyssa could score 20 marks more than my scores no matter how hard I tried. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day before the math competition is to take place.

For as long as I could remember, a family scorecard hung by our front door like a corporate dashboard. At the end of the semester, my older sister Ava ranked first in her class, and Dad stuck a bright gold star beside her name. I had studied until my eyes burned, but my score still came in exactly three points lower than hers. Dad shook his head in disappointment and drew a huge red mark beside my name. "Mia, do you know how much money you cost this family this month?" He tapped at his calculator and said in a cold, businesslike tone, "Tutoring, supplements, private coaching. Five thousand dollars altogether. Terrible return on investment." "Starting next month, your allowance is in the negative by two thousand. You can work it off by taking over every chore in this house." Ava's eyes curved into a smile. "Mia, according to the performance rules, starting today you have to handle my laundry for a whole year." I clenched my fists, but all I could do was nod. That night, I hid in the bathroom and searched how to raise grades fast. A strange forum link flashed onto my screen. "Do you want to make a trade?" "Give up what is yours. Receive what you desire." "Tap to begin."

I had been dating Lily Foster for three years, and she strictly insisted on splitting every expense. When my mother needed surgery and I was short twenty thousand dollars, she looked troubled. “Aaron, we agreed on financial independence.” I went everywhere trying to borrow money, while she turned around and bought her brother a Ferrari outright. When I confronted her, she answered without a hint of guilt. “That’s my money. What does it have to do with you? “And besides, you’re a man. You can’t always expect a woman to support you, right?” Her brother drove the sports car right up in front of me, showing off. “My sister said it herself—your money is her money, but her money is still hers.” I laughed. Because just a moment ago, I had activated the “Malice Cashback” system. For every trace of hostility someone directed at me, I would receive a hundredfold cash return. Lily stood in front of me, frowning in disgust. “What are you laughing at? You look like an idiot.” [Ding! Received 20 hostility points from Lily Foster. Cashback of $2,000 has been credited.]

In the third year after my death, the one who remained faithfully by my wife's side was still the bionic robot I had painstakingly designed. It looked exactly like me and carried within it every detail of my mannerisms, speech, and habits. The only difference was that it never lost its temper with her. Because of that, my wife never sensed anything amiss. Yet each night, she brought home a different man, deliberately testing "me," desperate to see the wild jealousy and rage I once wore so vividly. Then, one day, her childhood sweetheart and first love, shoved "me" off the balcony. It was only then, in her horror, that my wife realized… "I" didn't bleed.

I suspected my husband was a detached ascetic. Every night, he'd skip to the backyard, muttering prayers under the stars instead of sharing our bed. When I slipped into something slinky, he'd frown and clutch his prayer beads like a lifeline. Now I was done with the cold shoulder, slapping a divorce agreement in his hands. That was when his thoughts started leaking into my head. "She touched me. Her hands are like silk. I'm dying to kiss her. When is she gonna be okay with me being a snake? I just want to cuddle her." "A snake?" I thought. "Does that mean he's packing two things? I have to find out." I leered at his chiseled frame, practically drooling. Before divorcing, I needed to test his things and my limits. I tripped purposefully and fell onto his toned pecs, ready to test the waters. "Whoops!" I gasped, setting the stage.