LITTLE_LYTA

BLURB



> He was reborn by mistake. Raised with purpose. Loved by a god. Worshipped by monsters. And the galaxy doesn’t stand a fucking chance.

Irvine’s soul took one wrong turn through the wheel of karma and woke up in a body grown by an intergalactic hivemind goddess with boundary issues and galaxy-sized ambition. Now he’s the golden child of a psychic swarm that feeds on control and burns whole worlds for affection.

With Crystal at the helm, warriors like Kimchi, relic-weapons like Kiya, and a council of psionic horrors eager to call him king, Irvine must choose what kind of god he wants to be.

Because when a hivemind learns to love...
...it doesn’t know when to stop.

The universe will kneel—or get devoured trying.


SYNOPSIS

Irvine didn’t ask to be reincarnated, but the cosmos had other plans. And it didn’t hand him a cheat code or a clean slate—just one random boon, selected by an uncaring divine roulette wheel.

Good karma? Bad karma? Balanced as all fuck.

Now he's reborn in the body of a psionically tuned alien hybrid, raised from psychic infancy by Crystal, the hivemind queen of a race so advanced they’ve abandoned individuality for shared omniscience. All except her baby boy.

Irvine is the singularity inside the swarm, the first soul allowed to think, dream, and desire independently. Trained by warriors like Kimchi, advised by bio-symbiotes like Kiya, loved ferociously by hive sisters like Diane, and shadowed by powers ancient and unnamed, Irvine is both weapon and wielder, saint and sacrifice.

But empires don’t run on hugs and handjobs. As Crystal expands her dominion—across star systems and sentient nebulae—Irvine must lead the charge through blood, fire, and psionic flame.

His soul is still human. His body? Engineered for extinction. His heart? Not entirely his anymore.

Reincarnated as a Mushroom?

Chapter 76: The Concrete Maw and the Club of Teeth

The ride southward was, against all odds, strangely serene. Nestled in the backseat beside Kimchi with one hand lazily curled around her thigh and the other propping up my chin, I watched the world slink by through vision not meant for mere mortals — night-vision sharpened by cybernetic clarity and mild boredom. The arid grasslands stretched like dying fingers across the landscape, waving their farewell before civilization devoured them whole.

The transformation came quickly — too quickly. As we neared the planetary equator, the wilderness evaporated like an old dream. It was replaced by polished urban sprawl: glass-paneled buildings gleaming with smug architectural precision, lights flickering like smug little lies, and roads that looked as though they'd been laser-etched by gods with OCD. The contrast between the untamed frontier and the surgically clean north-side development was jarring, to say the least.