Civilization: Beyond Two Worlds - Chapter 689 - : 689

Damien never asked for this life.Confined to a hospital bed, chained by a body that betrayed him, he spent his days battling the cruel joke that was fate. But when a single video game shattered his last shred of patience, he found himself facing something even worse—his own reflection, cast into a story that should have never been his.“Fucking NTR game!” He said as he threw the console.In the game, the player was nothing but a tragic figure. A weak, spineless fool, doomed to be discarded. A character whose sole purpose was to be broken.But was that really all he was?Thrown into a world that scorned him, Damien refuses to play by the script. If fate had already written his downfall, then he would carve his own path—one of defiance, of rage, of survival.Watch as Damien, a man who once had nothing left to lose, fights to take control of a story that was never meant to be his.Because in a world that demands he stay weak—he will either shatter expectations… or burn everything down with him.

I died a heroic, powerful, male Archmage… so why did I wake up as a sixteen-year-old girl?!Theo’s last memory is of a glorious, failed last stand. His next is a beeping hospital machine—and a terrifyingly handsome guy he’s pretty sure is a demon calling him “princess.”Now, he’s Thea Montrose, youngest daughter of a powerful family in a world run on magi-tech and corporate espionage. Between navigating floating cars, enduring his new mom’s hugs, and figuring out the horrifyingly complex mechanics of using the bathroom, Theo has his hands full.But his new family is hiding secrets, and their rivals play for keeps. Good thing this spoiled heiress’s body now holds the soul of an ancient wizard. They wanted the real Thea back? They’re about to get way more than they bargained for.He failed to save his old world from an apocalypse—now he just might save this one (and finally figure out how this bra works).

My name is Yan, and since I was a child, I’ve been able to see some strange things.For example—In elementary school, our new neighbor Aunt Tan had a pair of all-around genius twins, who were like the “precious little geniuses” with halos above their heads. They could recite the English-Chinese dictionary backwards at three, master both Chinese and Western musical instruments by five, and hack into a country’s database by seven…Growing up next to such prodigies, my life was inhumane, tragic, and constantly subjected to comparisons.To escape the comparisons with these “other people’s children,” I specifically applied to a private boarding school for middle school.On my first day, my deskmate was a small, thin girl with bangs, wearing an old uniform, and her voice was as faint as a mosquito’s.Three months later, she woke up from a nap with a “rebirth” halo above her head.She moved effortlessly among the cold academic genius, the wolf-like school bully, the fierce boss, and the gentle childhood friend, leaving me, a lonely onlooker, utterly amazed.By university, I thought I had finally escaped this abnormal world.But as soon as I stepped into my dorm room, my footsteps froze.My roommates each had halos like “ancient times to modern,” “post-apocalyptic superhuman,” “will die if not spending money,” and “ghost king revival.”I clutched my little blanket and applied to the counselor for a room change, but to no avail.Over time, I gradually got used to it. “Handover systems,” “management systems,” “book transmigration,” “infinite worlds,” “three-and-a-half-year-olds,” “interstellar live streams,” “red envelope groups”…The types of halos kept increasing, and I was able to calmly ignore all of it, focusing on my own life.Every morning, I skillfully helped my “ancient to modern” roommate, who was being blacklisted online, dodge campus paparazzi and secure seats for class.At noon, I assisted my tycoon roommate in distributing today’s haul of luxury skincare and designer bags, tasting the city’s top private chef’s custom lunchbox, and exclaiming with emotion, “Darling, can I really accept these?”In the evening, I enjoyed the flowers and plants cultivated by my superhuman roommate on the balcony, tasting a mutated cherry tomato and commenting, “I feel refreshed and purified.”Late at night, when my ghost king roommate quietly climbed back through the window, I peeked out to ask, “You’re back a bit late today, didn’t bring anything back, did you?”My name is Yan, and I am not the protagonist of this world.