sacre sorcieres

The world is dying. From the depths of the killing fields, a soldier rises. Though seemingly insignificant, his actions are tied to the very fate of the world. Will he pull it back from the brink, or push it over into oblivion?

Issac the human of earth, hell and heaven.

title given to Joon-young, a soldier who fought a lost war. Performing the most devious last stand befitting his titles, his memories were sent to another world. Now named Isaac, he seeks to live out his days in relative peace. But with his family wanting him dead he is sent to the Campus, the Empire’s greatest centre of Education, in hopes that he would be expelled and tarnish his position as the heir of his family. He is told that the school will treat him as if he doesn’t exist, that he isn’t protected by its rules. But Isaac, or Joon-young, sees it differently. There are no rules to hold him back from getting what he wants.

A young boy rescued by a young girl who turned out to be an engineer working for a secret military unit lead by the government. What happens next is that same young boy will become something special; After taking the Maze X serum, a serum designed by the military secret bio lab facility, hoping to create super soldiers. Men who can transcend even the strongest or fastest of man humanity can offer.

Nothing is set in stone—not time, not fate, and certainly not Death. But in Rudra's existence, one thing has remained constant: a person. In her tears and rage. In her love and hatred. Now, Rudra is determined to figure out why she was the only one who mourned his death while the rest of the world celebrated his demise—especially since they had always stood on opposite sides of the war. And her answer might be the one thing he holds most dear—the only truth that remains truly sacred. In the kingdom of Partha, power does not negotiate. It descends from the mountain, absolute and ancient, in the form of Ravaan Azhdar — the Dragon King — and his son, Prince Rudra, who inherits his father's fire and none of his patience. In his first life, Rudra did what dragons do. He wanted the Saintess of Benevia and he took her — flew across half the known world and carried Teresa Williams out of her country like a thing claimed, imprisoning her in the cursed land of Alaka for months while the kingdoms of men scrambled to respond. He was not cruel to her, exactly. He simply did not think of her as something that required particular consideration. She was leverage. She was a statement. She was, in the particular arithmetic of dragon politics, a piece on a board. He did not expect Percival Leonhart. The hero came through Alaka the way heroes do — through impossible odds and worse terrain, carrying the legendary sword of Mamon, and he killed Rudra with it. Not cleanly. Not quickly. But definitively. Rudra lay dying in the ruins of everything he had built, alone, which was no more than he deserved and he knew it, and he waited for the end with the specific resignation of a creature who has no remorse, no regret whatsoever. Then Tish appeared. Not rescued, not triumphant, not standing over him with justified contempt. She appeared the way she always moved through the world — quietly, purposefully, and in this case with her hands already reaching for him, her holy magic already trying to knit shut wounds that had no business being knittable. She was crying. She was afraid. And she was, against every law of sense and self-preservation, trying to save the dragon who had taken her from her home He didn't understand it. He asked her why, once, in the way a dying thing asks questions — without real expectation of an answer. She didn't explain. She kept healing. And then an arrow found her, from somewhere in the dark, and she died in front of him before he could — before he could what, exactly, he would spend a great deal of time not finishing that thought. Then Rudra woke up in his bed in Ashkavar. Three years before any of it happened. He lay there for a long time. Long enough for the disorientation to pass and the facts to arrange themselves into something he could examine. He had been given time back, though by what mechanism or mercy he couldn't say. The world was reset. Tish was alive somewhere in Benevia, being saintly and blessed and entirely unaware of everything that hadn't happened yet. He did not love her. He wants to be clear about that, if only to himself. He had barely known her in the first life, and what he had known he hadn't particularly liked — she was stubborn and principled and had an infuriating tendency to keep extending grace to things that hadn't earned it, chief among them apparently him. He did not miss her. He missed the answer she hadn't given him. He missed the specific shape of a question that had no other possible source of resolution. Why had she tried to save him. And for that answer, he was determined to burn everything down all over again. (I will be posting this story on RoyalRoad.com )

heheheh

In her previous life, she took the wrong "white lotus" script, causing her to die a miserable death. Heaven has let her live again, so she shouldn't have to suffer the hardships of her past life once more! Feng Moxi sheds her weakness from her previous life. Making a new choice, she must fight! There are monsters! Kill them! There are scumbags! Eliminate them! With her meager strength, she picks up a Heavy Sword and forges a difficult path forward. Unexpectedly, that arrogant and reckless person who caused her no small amount of trouble along the way eventually becomes a comrade-in-arms to whom she can entrust her back, a companion for life. The sky fills with darkness, the Demon People emerge! The Heavenly Dao returns. One day, Feng Moxi is leisurely roasting beast meat by the river. Chaoyang, having just finished fighting a demon beast, sees the crumbs on her lips and immediately leans in. "Want some?" Chaoyang dazedly nodded his head. Suddenly, a piece of burnt beast meat is stuffed into his mouth. Chaoyang pulls Feng Moxi into his embrace, gently brushes the corner of her lips with his hand, and says, "You're mine!" Apocalypse + Cultivation + Doting Boyfriend