Little Tyrant Doesn’t Want to Meet with a Bad End - Chapter 563: The Crown

In an era where humanity has long conquered the stars, a girl with a restless heart yearns for more than the predictable comforts of galactic life—she wants to explore the cosmos for herself. But her dream is torn apart when she’s stranded on a forgotten planet, a dumping ground for criminals with no way out.Left to rot among the desperate and the damned, she stumbles upon a strange machine buried in the scrap heap of discarded tools by higher classed planets—one that fuses with her psyche and grants her access to a system unlike anything in known space. It doesn’t just guide her. It evolves with her. It builds. It changes everything.Now she’s on the run, pursued by the relentless interstellar police who want back what she stole. But with each escape, each discovery, and each battle, she pushes further into the unknown, reshaping the wreckage of the past into something new.Blending the inventive spirit of technical progression with the high-octane energy of cinematic battles, this is a story of survival, rebellion, and rebuilding—one shattered world at a time.

Corrupted by Angle Of Chaos.Cursed by the whispers of unknown beings.Stripped of will, power, and memory.Shon Eril makes a choice—an insane choice. Not bound by fate. Not forced by death. Not by his own will. But by a choice, a revelation. He steps into a book, and awakens in another body… Ibaan De Light.A vast world unfolds before him: towering machinery, advanced technology, mighty clans, secretive organizations, churches, sealed contracts, schools, endless metros and carriers, airships crossing the skies, and the unknown—the same frightening beings, the curse carriers!Here begins his journey, not as a hero, but as a servant of Willpower.Will he reclaim his will, or lose himself to its abyss?This is the tale of what he seeks… and what seeks him.***“I order you to understand me—my will, my choices and my beloved ones.”———————Extra Tags: #AcademyArc #Scoopy #Clans #SecretOrganizations #cults #mysteries #hidden identities #unknown beings #angels #daemons #deities etcJoin the Discord server for illustrations and more: https://discord.gg/djNAmGxJZ5

On the haunted mountain in the kingdom, they say there lived a witch.

She was born a princess. But even before her birth, the priest declared her to be cursed and demanded her death. They poisoned the mother to kill the baby before she gave birth, but the baby was born out of the dead mother—a cursed child.

Again and again, they tried to kill the baby but she miraculously survived every single attempt. Giving up, they abandoned her on the haunted mountain to die but she still survived on that barren land— A witch

‘Why won’t she die?’

Years later, the people finally had enough of the witch and decided to burn the mountain. But someone arrived to her rescue and took her with him from that burning place, because dying was not her destiny even then.

Draven Amaris.

The Black Dragon, who ruled over supernatural beings, the Devil who no one wished to cross a path with. He hated humans but this certain human girl would pull him towards her whenever she was in danger.

‘Is she really a human?’

The devil named this mysteriously tenacious girl “Ember”, a piece of glowing coal in a dying fire.

This is a tale of the man who brings death and the girl who denies it.

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.”