MTL - I Have a City in a Different World - v2 Chapter 82 Intelligence and Crisis

Unexpectedly arriving in a world where humans and Pokémon coexist in harmony, Natsume inherits an abandoned farm.With Pidgey soaring through the skies and Heracross resting under the shade of trees, the world’s vivid reality unfolds before him.But instead of aspiring to become a Pokémon Trainer, Natsume seems more inclined to embrace the life of a farmer.Natsume: “It’s decided. From today on, I’ll be a farmer.”However, as time goes on, Natsume starts to realize that his goals may have shifted just a little.“Champion Natsume, are you saying you originally just wanted to be a farmer?” a reporter asks earnestly.Natsume: “Would you believe me if I said it wasn’t entirely my choice?”

In a world where Classes, Stats, and Levels are the everyday norm, Reivyn has a secret.He was unusually aware of his surroundings from an incredibly early age, and Skills and Stats were acquired easily. He was just the son of an ordinary village family, and nothing appeared out of the ordinary on the surface. But below the surface, dreams of another life help shape his mentality and growth. Why does he have some remembrance of a past life, and what is his purpose in this new one?“Soul of the Warrior” is what I call a Semi-Isekai LitRPG. I say “semi,” because Reivyn's past life is remembered like a dream, and very incomplete. It is still Isekai, though, as he remembers enough that it directly shapes his personality and his sense of self.The System that governs the world of “Soul of the Warrior” is a combination of modified versions from Selkie's “Beneath the Dragoneye Moons” and Kosnik4's “Magic Smithing.” I have changed enough of these Systems and combined them in a way that is unique that I'm mostly sure it's fine, but I still have requested permission to use these ideas. They have both graciously granted me permission.Winner of the April Writathon Challenge.

Tang Qiu was a substitute bride–forced to take her half-sister’s place and marry the young master of the Jiang family, a deformed cripple with less than 6 months left to live.

“Who would have thought that even a sickly whelp like Jiang Shaocheng would find himself a bride?”

“I hear that he’s practically on his deathbed and he’s only marrying the Fengs’ daughter to improve his lifespan.”

Tang Qiu ignored the whispers around her and focused on her husband-to-be, who coughed violently in his wheelchair. At the altar, after they had said their vows, she lifted her veil and knelt in front of Jiang Shaocheng, pressing a hesitant kiss to his lips.

The marriage contract was signed. No matter his physical deformities, he was now her husband.

She wasn’t afraid of the scars that marked his face, nor was she repulsed by him being confined to a wheelchair. Every morning, she made him breakfast, attended to his needs, and thought of little else beyond her duties as a wife.

“Young Master Jiang is a cripple who can’t get it up,” her best friend argued. “When he dies, you’ll still be untouched. You should set your sights higher.”

“A sickly invalid like Jiang Shaocheng can’t give you happiness,” her ex-boyfriend insisted. “I’ll wait for you.”

But Young Master Jiang only scoffed. “I have plenty of time left to be with her.”

Later in their marriage, Jiang Shaocheng wanted to enjoy his little wife in all ways–the press of her lips against his, the brush of skin on skin; the way a husband and wife were supposed to. But Tang Qiu refused him, blushing. “No, we can’t. The doctor says you can’t exert yourself.”

Jiang Shaocheng’s desire was surging through him, a heat in his core that demanded to be satiated. He cursed, I should have gotten rid of that doctor and the wheelchair long ago.

But he yearned to make love to his little wife, and so he revealed his true identity. In the blink of an eye, the deformed cripple transformed into a powerful businessman–tall, dark, and handsome. He quieted Tang Qiu’s protests, his body positioned over hers, his arms caging her as she lay on the bed. His voice was low when he asked, “What about now?”

I remember the story of a novel I had read in my previous life just before my marriage. If you don’t mess up the wedding, you’ll be poisoned by your husband! So I kissed the pastor who was in charge of the ceremony.

“Commander, are you alright?” shouted one of the holy knights as he approached the pastor who was kissed.

Huh, what?

Wait … are you the commander of the Holy Knights?

****

Rurutia, who was about to die, wanted to spend her last moment in a temple where she felt at ease the most. She started a business with her friends for the temple, and it was a big hit.

“Miss, you have the world in the palm of your hands!”

“Are you a God who has descended to Earth?”

In the midst of being embarrassed by the large crown, the commander of the holy knights himself was also acting strange.

“All I wish for is to be your husband,” he said, his eyes shining with obsession. “Take responsibility for stealing my first kiss.”

This is all so wrong.

It seems that I changed my future.