Earth's Greatest Magus - Chapter 2563 Guardian

“Unlucky” would be the nice way to describe Lucas’ luck. He wasn’t just down bad. He was practically cursed.As someone who never asked to exist, he’s had to experience medical torture, imprisonment, and eventually death. And that was just his first life.Then, just as he thought of escaping his fate, he transmigrates into the body of the Empire’s most useless Flower Vase.Great, now he should have status, wealth, and beauty, right?Wrong.Because his new body, Young Lord Luca Kyros, was a vegetable. And what’s worse was that no one else seemed to know the truth. To everyone else, he was just your typical rebellious heir.He wouldn’t have minded that. He was used to being called a harlot or similar names for being a defective Guide. But the problem was he woke up right smack in the middle of the Royal Military Academy’s Assessment test.And his double body, the one who should be attending school, perished in an ambush.So now, he’s forced to resolve his existential crisis while attending a school he never even enrolled in.He’ll have to conquer his flimsy body, his brooding roommate, and his picky-eater “dungeon”—all that on top of surviving impending doom.Someone definitely needs a miracle.

Karl awoke to find himself shockingly reduced to a crippled Evil God confined within a bottle.The Fischer family had inadvertently become his favored members, sharing a fate connected by blood throughout the generations.They established a secret clan, infiltrated the state, manipulated wars, ascended the God Pantheon stairway, and fought for the honor and future of the family.They were assassins lurking in the shadows, beloved scholars, esteemed priests, powerful dukes, and legends in heroic epics.From budding to robust growth, steampunk evolved; the Spirit Realm descended through dreams; witches and ancient gods stepped forth, and people listened to the lost whispers at their ears.They were both the creators and the enders of stories.Generation after generation, in a continuous succession, they marched forward.“Step over my corpse and go on,” he said.

It's simple. A vengeful wildfire of a woman. A tyrant who begs to be burned.When Aria crashes into Kael’s empire, hellbent on making him pay for taking her job away, she’s met not with defiance—but a dare. “You want revenge?” he taunts, voice dripping with dark invitation.“Then ruin me. Take your pound of flesh exactly where it hurts.” His proposition is a trap laced with sin: As expected he calls the shots in his bed, her contempt is his twisted aphrodisiac.“Hate me until your hands shake,” he growls. “But do it on top of me, where I can watch you savor every cut.”Their arrangement is a collision of dominance and delirium. Aria wields her fury like a blade, determined to break him. Kael? He thrives under her wrath, goading her darker, deeper, hungrier.But vengeance turns slippery when every command she hisses ignites his obedience, and every cold glare melts into bruising kisses. Soon, the bed becomes a battleground—her nails carving victory into his skin, his whispers a serpent’s promise: “Chain me with your rage, darling. I’ll still come back for more.”The rules are simple: No mercy. No surrender. But as their games spiral into something ravenous, who’s destroying whom? And when hatred burns this hot, what’s left when the ashes cool?

God rewards hard work, and there must be rewards for paying.

And no matter how hard you work, you will gain 100%!

So, for things like cultivating immortals, don’t you just need to have hands?

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