Cherreads

Reincarnated as a Goblin: My "Sword" is Malfunctioning!!

Scarlett_Whisper
Synopsis [Warning: R-18 Mature Content] [Explicit Sexual Content, Harem, Non-Human Protagonist, Fast paced] In a world where monsters rule through brute strength and primal instinct, Grik was the ultimate punchline. Born an orphaned goblin in the Monster Kingdom and admitted to the elite Academy on a fluke scholarship, he was weak, bullied, and worse—he suffered from a humiliating biological “hardware failure” that left him entirely incapable of performing. The original Grik died of shame in a cheap brothel bathroom. But the soul that woke up in his green-skinned body wasn’t a pathetic goblin. He was a modern human with a mind wired for logic, an analytical understanding of anatomy, and an Earth-born knowledge of technique that this savage, brute-force world had never even dreamed of. Bound to a unique System that treats his biology like code and his encounters like quests, he’s issued his first challenge: overcome his defective equipment using nothing but pure finesse. Now, armed with legendary Earth techniques, a newly optimized anatomy, and an incredibly analytical approach to the 'arts,' this trash goblin is about to rewrite the hierarchy of the Monster Academy. From arrogant vampire heiresses to cold elven prodigies, they all expect a weak, bumbling peasant. Instead, they’re going to learn that true power doesn’t come from fangs or claws. It comes from perfect execution, agonizing patience, and a System that rewards him for every monstrous ego he completely dismantles—in and out of the bedroom. The original owner rage-quit. I’m just booting up.
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I Leash Emperors: The Dead Shout. I Smile

The dead scream for justice. They have been screaming for centuries. In my office on the 88th floor, the sound is indistinguishable from the hum of the paper shredder. I have twelve of history's most dangerous minds in my vault—Caesar, Cleopatra, Napoleon, Wu Zetian, and eight others whose names are synonymous with the word empire. I stripped them of their crowns and their divinity and left them with the only two things that survive death intact: greed, and memory. Then I put them to work. The boardroom is their new battlefield. Stocks are their arrows. Hostile takeovers are their sieges. The First Emperor runs my supply chains with the same draconian efficiency that built the Great Wall. The Queen of the Nile runs my PR division and calls it beneath her. Caesar rewrites the legal architecture of an entire financial district before breakfast and considers it a light morning. The rules are simple. The Emperor with the highest ROI earns twenty-four hours of full sensory restoration—taste, warmth, the burn of real alcohol, everything the synthetic body cannot feel. The Emperor at the bottom earns something else: a Hell Start. Reincarnation as a beggar, a eunuch, a sacrificial lamb in the next cycle. They know this. It keeps them focused. Every full moon, the tavern opens. The millions they killed in their lifetimes gather as my Jury—compressed into a medium that runs on pure hatred, sustained by a spite so concentrated it has proven, against all known physics, to be a measurable energy source. They vote. They decide which of their tormentors leads the next charge, and which of the most venomous among them earns a temporary body to return to the waking world. Wu Zetian shed her imperial robes to kneel at my feet and beg for a private review of her HR directorship. Arsinoe—murdered by her own sister two thousand years ago—spent six weeks haunting Cleopatra's servers and built a perfect weapon before she ever asked me for the body to deliver it. Cleopatra herself believes her beauty is a currency I will eventually accept. She has not yet understood that in this building, the only currency is performance. I do not need loyalty. I need sharp blades. I do not trade in mercy. I trade in ROI. They believe this is my game. They do not ask why I need to win it. Rules? I am the rule. Harem? The highest-tier spoils of a game they don't know the stakes of. Every arc is a different world. Every world is a wound that needs closing. The Emperors do not know this. They never do. Perhaps the last thing standing between their world and oblivion is a man who stopped caring about it long ago. Let the dead shout. I smile. I have to. Tags: #InfiniteFlow #DarkFantasy #HighStakesPolitics #DivineAutocracy #GrimDark #RuthlessMC #HistoricalFigures #DarkHarem Content Advisory: Heavy power dynamics, sensory manipulation, historical figures in morally compromised positions. MC is an unapologetic autocrat. No redemption arcs.
Aetherion_Vael · 2.2k Views