The Number One Star in the Interstellar Era - Chapter 604: FAN CLUB PRESIDENT

His name was 25. On Avalis, he was just one of many tasked with fulfilling missions for Earth’s people. This time, he was given a simple one—live as Zeno Han and have an ordinary life.Easy. Or so he thought.The moment he took over Zeno’s body, someone shoved a script into his hands. “You’ll be perfect for this role!” And just like that, he was on set.[Fame Meter: Unable to Measure. Off the charts.]Doctor? Check. Pilot? Check. Eunuch? …Regrettably, check. Every script forces him to relive past missions, and somehow, he’s nailing every performance. Now, the industry wants to make him a star, but can he still complete his mission? Or will fame—and the terrifying unknown of failure—be his final curtain call?

Strong? Handsome? Savage? Badass?It's all about the intelligence quotient, my friend.————PS: Mutation shouldn't be mistaken for enlightenment.

“Is Fate the excuse of the forsaken, is Free Will the delusion of the chosen?”Such was a question that Xavier, the Demon King, never had the chance to ask himself. As he lay defeated, awaiting his death, he wondered about the wretched life he lived.'The hero who killed me, the one who held the same ambitions as me. We both wanted good for the people, for the world. We are both two sides of the same coin, yet, fate decided that he will be the one the light will shine on.Perhaps it was me too, perhaps it was my karma for flowing the rivers of blood with my sword. But still... It was fate that squashed the humanity in me first!Damn fate, if I had one more chance, I would've lived for myself more, I wouldn't have taken this arbitrary role of being a necessary evil... This world, this game of destiny... It can burn to ashes for all I care.'As he sunk into the cold embrace of death, a certain [REDACTED] heard his dying wish with amusement and cast their die, reversing the wheel of time one last time and going all in on him on a risky gamble with the stakes of their world.

It was understood that this was a capitalist country, where the possession of the greatest amount of capital determined to whom the nation effectively belonged.The smile that had been resting on William Sheffield’s face was abruptly erased as his expression turned cold. In a tone laced with determination, it was demanded by him that the police be contacted immediately so that they could crush those who stood in their way. The reasoning behind his words seemed clear: if such actions had been taken before by someone like Rockefeller, then why should it not also be possible for Sheffield?A sense of irony hung in the air as the sentiment was expressed—this was America, where each day seemed to unfold as though it were part of an ongoing shootout, with battles fought not just with guns but with power, influence, and wealth.