I Tamed a Tyrant and Ran Away - Chapter 105: Illustration

The well-known and recognized throughout the Stern continent, strong and mighty, as well as the unique Wizard of magic cures, the most outstanding genius of the whole continent, Jason got into the flow of time, back in the uncivilized era during the first failed experiment, 3000 years ago. This was the period when the magic healers didn’t exist. How will Jason apply his knowledge in this backward era, wherever he reach the peak of glory?

- Description from Novelupdates

Beatrice Da Ville was supposed to be the villainess. A spoiled, arrogant noblewoman who terrorized the heroine, only to be executed for her crimes. At least, that’s how the story was supposed to go.But when a 21st-century woman wakes up in Beatrice’s body, she has zero intention of following the original plot. Execution? Betrayal? A bloody downfall? Absolutely not. She just wants to keep her head down, avoid drama, and live a long, peaceful life.Unfortunately, her unbothered attitude, modern slang, and sheer survival instincts keep catching the attention of all the wrong people. The nobles think she’s a genius, the royal family is amused, and worst of all—the cold Crown Prince Francois Montague, who was supposed to fall for the heroine, won’t stop watching her.Meanwhile, the original heroine, Johanna Lockhart, starts to realize that her perfect fairytale is slipping away. The world that once adored her now whispers about Beatrice instead. And the more she loses, the more dangerous she becomes.With a fate that refuses to let her go, a jealous heroine turning villainous, and an infuriatingly handsome prince who definitely didn’t love her in the original story, Beatrice has one goal.Survive. Thrive. And absolutely, under no circumstances, follow the script.

I lived a mediocre life. Trapped in the simulation of everyday mundanity, the 'Matrix' you might call it. The world killed my dreams, hurt my innocence, but I moved on just fine, struggling everyday to keep living.Until it came out of nowhere, without warning: The Apocalypse.I fought to survive. I lived alone in a world where all dead humans turned to undead. But, there was only so little the average human could do against creatures with superhuman strength. So I died. It was the end.Or was it?“From one cage to another.”I opened my eyes to a world where normal reasoning was as good as garbage. A world ruled by men with superhuman strength. A medieval world with swords and... No magic. Just swords and weapons. But still, that medieval world was not so medieval. It was a crazy place, a world that I couldn't fully understand.So I decided. I'll live because I lack the resolve to end myself. I'll live because i'm a coward. I'll live because in the end, I'll die of old age anyway. But before I die, I'll figure out the truth and secrets of this world. Just for the sake of it.And what's the best way to see the world in its entirety? Of course, it's to stand at the highest summit. And that's exactly what I'm going to do. So watch me rise.

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.”