Entertainment Life With A Camera - Chapter 215:

Grounded in the Transcendent, framed by the Sequence, the Wizard ignited the Source Energy and spewed out a mist of Origin Energy.The roaring sound of steam echoed through the entire epoch!In the depths of shadow and the dark tide.Countless greedy, twisted, polluted, and deformed gazes were coveting this roaring new World.The World began to buzz with activity!A certain Wizard, however, was lurking silently in a corner.“I like to develop!”“Then, what is the deal with those Demon King's heads and Evil God's skeletons?”“I told you, I like to develop, and this is the fate of those who hindered my growth!!”

The first time I realized that I ‘couldn’t die’ was during a practical training exercise in my third year as a hero cadet.A beast suddenly leaped out of the bushes and tore into my neck.‘How did I come back to life?’Yes, I came back to life. I didn’t die.And now, after hundreds, even thousands of years, I was still alive. Only I had survived.“But now… it’s finally over.”After wandering for millennia, I thought I could finally put an end to this long existence…“Dale! Dale Han! How dare you sleep during my class? You’ve got some nerve, don’t you?”“…Huh?”But what awaited me at the end of my long existence wasn’t a period, but a repeat sign.

Layland Kleinhaus (17) suffers from hypogonadism that makes him less “manly” on top of having a girly face. He is bullied because of it, but he always remains strong ... At least, until he can't bear the betrayals and sufferings anymore.

Filled with rage, indignation, and the lust for blood, he decided to end the life of his tormentors along with the bystanders before taking his own life.

Alas, in the middle of his deed, a mysterious being intervenes the act by summoning him and the rest of the bastards he is killing to another world. He curses his bad luck for not being able to fulfill his revenge because of it, but much to his surprise, there is something much better than having his revenge waiting for him.

“Layland... Be a Demon King.”

Thus, his journey of becoming the unparalleled Demon King begins.

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Those who know me are already in the know of my “condition”—minor dyslexia. So, if you find any misspell or 'wtf does this even mean' words, I hope you can pardon me from the insult, and notify me instead.

Three rejections. Three shattered dreams. That was Layla’s reality, all because she was different—a half-shifter in a world obsessed with purity. Ostracized, shunned, and finally sold off like a pawn to the most feared ruler alive—the Lycan King. He was ruthless, a king with a graveyard of brides, each one a ghostly reminder of a fate worse than death.Layla loathed him. Hated the way his gaze cold and fathomless, held no warmth for her. Hated how his touch, both thrilling and terrifying, sent an uninvited chill down her spine.---“I hate you!” I screamed, hands clenched so tight my knuckles ached.He sighed, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips, his tone mocking as he closed his book with a deliberate snap. “Stressed, are we?” he asked, strolling toward me, each step reminding me exactly who held the power here.“Lucky for you,” he drawled, rolling up his sleeves as he stopped just inches away, “I know exactly 70 ways to ease those nerves.” His fingers brushed my cheek, a touch that seemed to burn into my skin. “The first… a hug.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper as he leaned in, breath hot against my ear. “And the rest... well, that's 69? what do you say about that?”I swallowed hard, my heart thudding wildly as he tilted his head, waiting for me to react, that insufferable smirk still in place.“What’s the matter, darling?” he murmured, a taunt lingering in his gaze.---A Dangerous ObsessionCan she resist the pull, or will she dance into the flames of her own destruction?A dark dive into obsession, raw need, and the razor’s edge between desire and devastation.---LYCAN KING CASSIANI will tear her apart piece by piece, feeding the wildfire that grips her with each shuddered breath. Like air to flame, I’ll claim every inch, drawing heat from her skin until it sinks into her bones.Her pulse will race under my hands, her breaths shallow, pleading. Her eyes may scream, but her lips will still murmur my name. That first taste of fear will only feed something deeper—a need that burns through her veins, molten and fierce.And just when she’s too far gone to turn back, I’ll twist the knife, giving her the pain she’s learned to crave.She’ll be the moth to my flame, helpless against the very thing that will consume her.