WebNovels

My Destiny is to Became a Tyrant

Eliton_create
14
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 14 chs / week.
--
NOT RATINGS
87
Views
Synopsis
“Weakness is never forgiven. It never was. And it never will be.” No name. No past. No one. Clint grew up in the filthy back alleys of the capital, surviving on scraps, theft, and sheer will to live... Until, by a cruel twist of fate, the most feared man in Kamira, Duke Ravenhart decided to adopt him. Now, Clint is dragged into a world where a single mistake can mean death. A world where nobles smile with daggers behind their backs, and even the man who saved him wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if he ever shows weakness. Trained by a master feared even by kings. Watched by spies, soldiers, and mages from every corner of the continent. Clint learns one brutal truth: “Power decides who lives… and who dies.” And if the price to survive is to become a monster... Then so be it. ------------------------ Author Note: This work is a complete rework of “I Became a Tyrant by Mistake.” Many things have been changed, especially the characters and their development. So, even if you’ve read the original before, give “My Destiny Is to Become a Tyrant” a chance. You won’t regret it.
VIEW MORE

Chapter 1 - 1# The Rat Of Kassel

Have you ever known hunger?

I'm not talking about that trivial kind, the kind that makes your stomach growl when you skip a meal.

I mean real hunger.

The kind that bends your body, numbs your mind, makes your hands tremble and your eyes lose their color.

A void that eats you from the inside out, until even despair loses its flavor.

That was my oldest companion.

And to tell the truth... the only one that never abandoned me.

My name?

I never had one. Never deserved one.

For as long as I can remember, I've survived in the alleys of Kassel, the capital of the Kingdom of Kamira.

Names are for those who matter.

Those who have homes.

Families.

Stories.

Not for vermin like me, crawling between shadows and filth.

The others from the slums started calling me Clint.

No one knows where it came from.

It just stuck.

In Kassel, you're not born with a name.

You're born with hunger.

You grow with hunger.

And if you're not fast enough, you die with it.

I learned early that the world knows no mercy.

If you're not clever, you die.

If you're not quick, you die.

And if you're not cruel enough... yes, you die as well.

I remember a boy I once met when I was eight.

He tried to steal from a carriage.

It didn't end well.

The soldiers didn't kill him, maybe they thought something worse would be more fun.

They cut off his hands. Slowly.

Just to savor the screams.

They still echo in my nightmares.

That day, I made the most important promise of my life:

"I'll survive. Even if I have to sell my soul to do it."

And today... was just another day trying to keep that promise.

---

The smell of freshly baked bread hit me before I even turned the corner.

The old baker was already lining up his baskets. Ahead, a fruit stand was half open, and beside it, the butcher sharpened his knife, preparing the morning cuts.

The aroma made my mouth water.

But the guards were close. Stealing there would be suicide.

I crouched behind some crates, studying the movements.

The baker's steps.

The merchants unloading.

The clatter of hooves.

The murmurs of the guards, laughing, distracted.

Then I saw it.

At the corner of the bread stall, half-hidden, rested a loaf larger than the others.

Big enough to last two days... if luck was on my side.

I took a deep breath.

One step.

Two.

Three.

My hand almost touched it

— "Hey! Thief!" — a shout tore through the air.

Damn it.

I bolted.

The mud made me slip, but I caught my balance and ran like a demon unleashed.

Boots thundered behind me.

Shouts.

The clatter of swords.

"Catch that filthy rat!"

I dove between stalls, sliding through gaps only small bodies could fit through.

Leapt over boxes, climbed fences, rolled under wagons.

But something felt different.

My body was lighter.

My breathing steady.

The pain in my chest... gone.

Why?

No time to think. I just had to run.

I turned into a narrow alley, crossed a muddy courtyard and

Dead end.

I cursed.

Behind me, the guards advanced, eyes full of hatred and disgust.

I looked around.

Walls.

Crates.

Nothing.

No escape.

Panic burned in my throat... but along with it came another feeling.

Familiar.

Strange.

As if something deep within me had awakened.

My muscles tensed.

My skin tingled.

Colors came alive before my eyes.

I clenched my fists.

If I couldn't run... then I'd fight.

The first guard lunged at me, snarling like a hound before its prey.

But before he could reach me, my body moved on its own.

My fist shot up, straight to his jaw.

A crack.

The man collapsed, unconscious.

I stared at him, stunned.

...Did I do that?

But then the weight hit me.

Arms, legs, everything weakened.

The newfound strength vanished as if it had never existed.

I staggered.

Fell over the soldier's body.

My vision blurred.

The world faded.

And before darkness claimed me, I heard a voice.

Calm.

Measured.

Almost... curious.

"...Impressive..." — someone murmured, like a collector finding a rare artifact. — "This boy... who, or what, is he?"

And then, nothing.

Only the void.