The Old Baseball Player System - Chapter 135: Fourth Round (3)

Lacking a pocket dimension, lacking a power, lacking a thigh to hug onto and the three life advantages (money, power, and looks), he had been cautiously living in the apocalypse for ten years, getting closer to falling inside the zombie’s mouths. But unexpectedly, he had the terrible luck, to be caught in a fight between two gangs and die, it really left people feeling disappointed.

But when he opened his eyes, he had returned to a decade ago, three months before the apocalypse!

Like before he still lacked an ability, an ordinary person without a pocket dimension, but he did have ten full years of experience living in the apocalypse! Even if he didn’t fight zombies, didn’t hunt monsters, he could still live a carefree farming life in the safe zone.

Find a safe house, utilise all kinds of skills from his previous life to farm in exchange for meat, and if possible, find a person to peacefully spend the rest of his life with; ordinary people had their own ordinary little pieces of happiness.

Originally believing he had picked up a beauty he returned home to prepare a golden house, but on the contrary he was the one being pushed down……someone once said, whether it is people or matters, by no means can you only look at the surface!

- Description from novelupdates

Ryouma Takuma, a 39 year-old man with a hidden past, finds himself in a strange white room. There the gods tell him that he has died and that they are sending his soul to a different world; a world where magic exists. After living alone for three years his gamer soul loses common sense and starts toward crazy routes.

Xie Tao had always believed in science until one day, a meteorite smashed into his yard, forcing him to bind to a heroic world saving script. The worst thing was that the script didn’t even follow common sense.

The protracted ’witch hunting’ had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years’ War, and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise. Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said— “Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!”