Versatile: Alternate World - Chapter 667 March Of Rebellion

Polishing antiques in the basement was supposed to be a punishment. When monsters arrived, it saved Emma’s life. Now sealed inside a suit of armor old when the world was young, Emma Knight will have to master newfound powers she’d long regarded as merely myth; all whilst navigating the breakdown of society and delving through dungeons in search of the truth behind the apocalypse. How’s that for a Sworded Affair? What to expect: LitRPG, Progression, Dungeons and the Apocalypse. What not to expect: Harem, Smut, Drama or Tragedy.

Ethan Smith is 22 year old young guy. He was doing MBA from a a nearby college. He has always wanted to be rich, surrounded by beauties. But life never gives the way you want. While riding his motorcycle to comeback home from college, he was hit by Truck-kun and he got transmigrated.He travelled to eastern fantasy world. And he found himself in the body of a young man named Aric Lei.“I got transmigrated into the body of the young master of Lei family.”[“Ding!”][“Hello Host, the villain system is here to help you to become the ultimate villain.”][“As a beginner pack, I would give one skill for free. Tell me what skill you want?”]Ethan - “My Dear System, Give me the Mind Control Skill. ”“Granting you the absolute mind control skill. Through which you can corrupt anyone's mind”Ethan - “This time I will fuck this world. Ha ha ha ”Note: No NTR, No Yuri, Milfs, Power-packed.

What’s worse than finding out you’re that Louis XIV when you’re a baby?

Of course there is, for example, it’s still a magic version.

- Description from novelbuddy

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”