Alex Toxic

The clan of necromancers is busy doing what it does best: creating chimeras and killing the spawns of abomination.

After finding an abandoned, ancient fortress inside a focus, the Richters turn it into their headquarters and a training camp for their new army.

I had lain down in my crypt to rest for a few decades, but when I awoke, centuries had passed. My castle is in ruins, my clan is gone, and necromancers are considered just a fairy tale for children. They take me for a healer. That's because the world is sick. And it's time for strong medicine.

The Richter clan was getting stronger and becoming a real nuisance to a lot of people. All the spheres of influence have long been divided among aristocrats, gangsters, and corrupt officials. And now, they all wanted to destroy the upstart healers. But the real evil dwelled in the past.

The calm before the storm has settled over the capital. Old legends are coming to life in the city's streets. The clan of necromancers is no longer trying to hide. The time has come to show our power. Betrayal will be punished, and the rest will have a difficult choice to make.

With a decisive onslaught, the clan of necromancers is reclaiming its properties. The occupied capital is re-christened once again with its original name, Richterberg. The city is under siege, surrounded by Focus monsters and an army of enemies.

A clan of healers?! Was that even a thing? People thought we were weak and incapable of defending ourselves and our property. Those who wished to do harm swooped down on the clan like vultures. And that was a good thing! More enemies meant more harvest, and more material for my experiments.

A thousand years ago, the abomination came into the world. It poisoned the earth and turned animals and people into horrible mutants. Necromancers were the only ones who could combat it.

More potatoes for the Potato Lord! More workers for the potato plantations! I have mastered the Mage, resisted Temptation, and even learned to brew my own System Cider. But soon the curtain between System zones will fall. What waits behind it? People? People on boars?!

I died as a true warrior should: in battle. But instead of being granted a well-earned rest, I awoke on the border of a foreign kingdom, in the body of a noble-born outcast—with a noose around my neck.

Planet Earth burns in nuclear flame. But The System was kind and wise enough to transfer all its little humans into a new world. Everyone has been granted a new name, a starting bonus, and a rousing kick up the backside. Some got a sword, some a crown, and me . . . A potato?!

At fourteen I was crowned champion of the VR Gladiator Games. By eighteen I was unloading junk at a warehouse without a penny to my name. Girls used to chase me. Now they wrinkle their noses in disgust. Life has given me a chance to make a comeback. But in this game, it's either triumph or perish!

The victors are dividing the spoils of a fallen titan. Max Richter and his compatriots are establishing their rule and redefining the world map. Ancient magic is returning to lands liberated from abomination.

The System said: "everything the sun touches is yours!" Lord Leo's a simple guy, so he took the System's word for it. It's not for nothing that Major is running drills with the new recruits, Third is sharpening his trusty sapper shovel, and boar-riding Peter is digging the earth with a honed hoof.

In the game, I've become the right hand of the Goddess of Death, and in real life, a board member of a major Corporation. Sounds cool, right? Except now there's a bounty on my head, while in the game, the AI is devouring players' minds. If I don't solve this mystery soon, I'll be next.

From each according to ability, to each according to U-credit! The slogan of Sparta!

Vor tausend Jahren tauchte die Befleckung in der Welt auf. Sie vergiftete die Erde und verwandelte Menschen und Tiere in fürchterliche Mutanten. Nur Nekromanten konnten ihr Einhalt gebieten.

Der Richter-Clan wurde immer mächtiger. Er trat vielen auf die Füße, waren doch die Pfründe der Hauptstadt längst verteilt. Max begab sich auf die Suche nach denjenigen, die ihm bereits einmal nach dem Leben getrachtet hatten.

It's not enough to conquer—you've got to keep hold of what you conquered before. The glory of Lord Leo's riches travels faster afield than his fearsome troops. Wherever there's riches, there's coveters. And not all of them are human.

Gods entered the game world and immediately began fighting among themselves. Which one will you choose as your patroness? The Goddess of War, the Patroness of Terror, or Death herself? What a stupid question. Of course, you'll choose the one who is the most beautiful!