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Death Is My Leveling System: Starting from F-Rank

FearlessFear
The S-rank got fire powers. Kai got told he probably wouldn't die immediately. Probably. Most climbers would call that the worst class in Tower history. Kai looked at it, did some math, and decided F-rank Survivor might actually be the most broken thing in the building. The Tower pays lifespan for dying. Skills for the method. Resistances for the pain. So he died to the spike trap on purpose. Then the fire vent. Then the river. Then the Floor Guardian — four times in one morning, just to learn the attack pattern — then walked into the fight and called every move out loud so fifty-three people could survive it. He has no attack skills. No combat class. No rank worth mentioning. He has three hundred years banked, a girl documenting every death in a notebook, and gods who started watching him on Day 3 because nothing this stupid should be working this well. The Tower opened a formal inquiry into whether he's allowed to keep existing this way. He's on Floor 3. There are ninety-seven left. Death Is My Levelling System: Starting From F-Rank The Tower called it irregular. He calls it a business model.
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Plants vs Dungeon

When dungeon gates opened across the world, it became a gold rush. Hunters chased glory. Guilds chased power. Corporations chased profit. Phong Tran awakened as a Level 1 Farmer. No skills. No passives. A broken EXP bar that never moved. So he sold energy drinks instead. Leg warmers. Electrolytes. Power banks. If everyone else was digging for gold, he’d sell the shovels. Then Josh came. University golden boy. Gym-built. Son of a man who could erase problems with a phone call. “Protection fee.” Phong refused. He woke up in a hospital bed, beaten within an inch of death. His aunt and uncle were gone. No bodies. No investigation. No media coverage. Just silence. Then, as if the universe had a sense of humor, his system finally gave him a quest: Plant and harvest 10 potatoes in the dungeon. That’s it. No penalties. No forced missions. No ticking clock. No promise of justice. Just a choice. Phong takes it. The potatoes mutate. Then other plants followed. Chilies spit burning rounds. Sweet potatoes bulk up into blunt-force bruisers. Garlic turns chemical-warfare illegal. Enoki mushrooms rattle like dungeon-grade machine guns. His crops become his frontline. Phong doesn’t want to conquer the dungeon. He wants to build something inside it. A farm. A hearth. A settlement for people tired of being disposable. He won’t let revenge be the only thing he grows. Revenge lit the spark. But it won’t be the only thing he grows. And if the most powerful man in the city comes looking to finish what his son started... He’ll learn something the dungeon already knows. This farm fights back.
Potato_mine · 48.9k Views