MTL - Pirates: Control Thunder and Lightning - Chapter 562 : Naval Operations

(This is a dungeon core story!)Sylvan is a nymph. A nymph who had lived his entire life protected by a barrier. Hiding the fact that his tree was a dungeon.But now, someone took off the barrier! Tourists are besieging his tree, cutting off branches to use as presents!He has only one option left before him: he must use the mind-altering mushrooms which he grows near his dungeon tree to stop people from chopping his tree down!And it just so happens that he knows how to cook with a flare!Follow him as he feeds those who want to cut off his tree, brainwashes them, and finally levels up his dungeon.This was not a romance story... but then the kind vampire appeared, and the MC lost his heart.

Fifty years ago, Dragon City transmigrated to the Other World. Alone in the world, they lifted the banner of Earth’s civilization and fought against the terrifying forces of the Other World.

In a world where magic is forbidden and witches are hunted, Ashlynn Blackwell has hidden her mark of the witch since birth. The night of her wedding she's betrayed and her secret is exposed. Attacked by her husband and his knights, Ashlynn was abandoned and left for dead in the wilderness.Rescued by the vampire lady Nyrielle, Ashlynn is offered a choice: die as a human or embrace her power as a witch. Bound by a mystical blood pact, Ashlynn is plunged into a world of ancient magic, immortal vampires, and deadly political intrigue for the chance to find eternal love.

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”