Novel & Cerita How To Survive As A Player Novel

¶Aiyla PoV¶ ¶But One Of The Big Lessons I have Learned From My Journey Is You Can't Please Everyone, So Don't Try¶ - CHRIs COLfER 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ Sometimes in life painful things can teach us lessons that we didn't think we needed to know. same thing happened to me, the painful things, the trauma and abuses I went throughout my life made me strong.. made me a fighter and survivor too! It made me realise the harsh reality of life! Life is not filled with beautiful flowers...it is also filled with thorns and it is upon us how we walk through that thorny path. "Either you give up...which is too cowardice"... "Or you could stand up and fight for what's right for you". After all

Both of them were in a great shock. “This can’t be happening! How could she is still alive!?” Lusiana was getting a headache. As the mastermind, failing was very shameful for her. She was so sure about Virginia’s death back then but the reality got her pretty good now. “Who knows. I don’t think something like dark magic and resurrection are possible. It seems like someone saved her life while she was in the sea.” Miller tried to speculate his opinion.

Chapter 49: His Life Zaina’s POV In this world, life is like a game of survival. You need to be brave, wise, and strong to survive. The only difference between life and a real game is… once you die, it’s over. You can’t be resurrected. If you’re lucky enough to stay alive, then move forward and continue living in this chaotic and cruel world.

“So what are we going to do?” Lennon asked himself, trying to think of a way to survive this messed up world, the difficulty of their mission went from 0 to 100 real fast with no warning. “We will learn how to survive.” Maya said, moving Noah away from her, after she noticed that he was uncomfortable sleeping in her lap. She already made a plan in her head on what to do and that consisted of hiding and learning how to defend themselves, with Noah being the top priority.

Crazy how getting through the worst shit flips the script. Turns straight enemies into ride-or-die. Survival don’t give a fuck about old rules but it writes new ones in blood.

But it turned out, I had still underestimated just how much the author favored him. The dagger was knocked from my hand and clattered to the floor. Winson’s eyes were filled with amusement, like a cat toying with a mouse as he watched me struggle, the heavy scent of alcohol washing over me. His hands roamed over me. Realizing how bad the situation was, I shouted. "I’m pregnant. You can’t touch me." The contact on my body slowly disappeared. I knew he had stopped. Relief barely settled before a cold scoff sounded above me.

Organized. Dangerous. “They’re not stopping…” Of course they’re not. Because now— I’m not just a target. I’m a problem. I push myself up slowly. My body steadier now. My mind sharper. Split. Half me. Half them. Both fighting. Both winning. “Survive,” the system repeats. I nod. “Fine.” If survival is the game— I’ll play it. But not their way. My way. I move again. Deeper into the darkness.

“Good. Let them scramble. Let them panic. Let them realize that the game has changed, and I’m not playing by their rules anymore.” Blake exhaled slowly. “You’re relentless,” he murmured, almost in awe. “Relentless is what it takes,” she said. “I’ve survived death, betrayal, and lies. Everything else… is just a game. And I’ve learned to play it better than anyone.”

"Because my entire life, when something fast and heavy came at my head, the only way I survived was by getting smaller." "You cannot get smaller anymore," he said, his hand finally coming down to rest on my shoulder. His fingers were hot, the calluses on his palm rough against my bare skin where my training shift had slipped. He didn't pull me up, but his touch was an anchor, a solid weight that kept the cavern from spinning. "The servant girl survives by hiding. The Queen survives by striking first. If you flinch at the Conclave, they will see the servant, and they will tear you apart." "I am not a Queen yet," I muttered, pressing my forehead against the cool stone of the floor. The chill o

“Our hearts aren’t red. They’re not hearts of happiness.” Then, without hesitation, they opened their own chests revealing cold, dead hearts, black as coal. Because in the end, most players had only pretended to care. Fear, dread, and survival instinct had tainted everything. And so, no one else had earned a truly happy ending.