Weiss Nikke

It was the tenth year of the Mechanical Civilization. My girlfriend, who always spoiled her brother to an unreasonable extent, orchestrated my death. Luckily, I was reborn seven days before the arrival of the machines. I bought a heavy-duty truck and evolved the strongest mecha. Close-combat mecha, long-range mecha, weapons, shields, funnels, modules… This time, I wanted the best of everything. My name is Victor Wild. Born to be a victor, born to be wild.

At Blackwood Academy, the best way for the weak to survive is to be invisible. Gwendolyn lived like that—hiding behind thick glasses, an outdated hairstyle, and oversized uniforms to conceal her true beauty. She accepted being ridiculed as a clumsy nerd for peace. No one knew she was actually the heiress of a top-tier powerful conglomerate. However, endurance could not shield her from the cruelty of high society. A merciless romantic bet exposed, her sincerity turned into a joke, and a cold rejection from her family drove her into a fateful rainy night. Falling into the abyss, Gwen thought death would end it all. But she didn't die; she only awakened. After the summer break, Gwen returned with a sharp, layered haircut, a refined style, and a cold, independent aura. She didn't care about revenge because those who once trampled on her were no longer in her league. She only wanted peace. Yet, the tree wishes to be still, but the wind will not subside. The instigator of the bet grows restless; the boy who once ignored her now begs for her gaze; and the elite try to corner her again. They forget that the line between a lamb and an alpha White Wolf is paper-thin. If any fool dares to cross the line, Gwen will use her terrifying capability and family backing to crush their pride under her heels. The chessboard has flipped. Do not anger a wealthy heiress seeking peace, and absolutely... Do not wake the White Wolf!

Everyone expected Isla Ulvehjerte, cribbled daughter of werewolf general Fenrir Ulvehjerte, to become a healer, like her sister… no one expected her to try out for the warrior academy. At the academy Isla do not only have to fight against the harsh demands and the other cadets, she also has to fight her own brother and her former crush… not to mention her attraction to the cursed and very dangerous Caelen Fennec. But Isla refuses to just be seen as the limping cribble.

"What do you want?... Wealth, Fame, Power, Freedom or anything that you desire?""None of these, I only want to that man!".............Mizu Sodomaki lived in the slums of Hesteria when was still younger. She got a poor and miserable life. Having to be raised by a terrible mother, who often beat her up. Until one day she met a boy named Shiro. The only person who comforts her soul, her first love. Yet, later on, he left her.5 years later, they meet again. In a horrible place called the arena, where they play a survival game. A place where no one can escape, in which their opponent is the only key to survival.Crush or be crushed! In this world, if you were weak, you will die!

They saw a floating castle high up in the sky illuminated by moonlight. One girl's eyes were wide with disbelief; the other one's eyes were wise. Then, a blast of light cloaked the coast of Batangas. Both girls never thought they could pedal their bikes as fast as they did then. The following day, they woke up convinced that it was nothing but a dream. And just when the thought of the mysterious floating castle was out of their minds, the full moon came, and they found themselves amid a dimension war with people from a world called Welkin.

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.