After being cast to the depths of hell just for being born 'wrong,' Lokus was beaten down and trampled upon in its unforgiving lands, where power was everything. And for someone with no power like him? He was stuck at the bottom of the food chain. But his heart burned with a vengeance and a desire to show the world just how big of a mistake it had made in pushing him aside, to make those who had cast him down regret that they had ever looked down upon him. Amidst his suffering, the Phantom Monarch System answered his call for vengeance. Now armed with the opportunity to tear down those who stood above him, he begins his ascent to the top of the world, to cast down the ones who have thrown him away and make them rue the day they had ever thought themselves his betters. His so-called parents? He would show them what it meant to be worthless. The man who had banished him? Lokus would crush him under a torrent of ice. Those who had shunned him, scorned him, hated him? He would repay their hatred back tenfold. During his crusade, the words of a prophecy loom to his back all the while, its words haunting and its fulfillment fast approaching. "Dread thrice-shunned's rise heralds death. Broken kingdoms, shattered bonds, Reducing the waning light to but a distant whisper. Under sin, the daughter births a kindred spirit Tolling the war of void and stars for power nearest. Sinful winter shall clash with righteous sand, Inching towards an eclipse. Death heralds the end, the end heralds the beyond." ........ Readers will learn about the world as Lokus does. However, if you have questions and I deem them okay to answer without spoiling anything, I'll be more than happy to reply. Otherwise, you'll have to wait for Lokus to learn about them. The power system is inspired by both cultivation novels and rpgs, and the world itself by several fantasy books I loved growing up. If you like gritty scenes, systems, no harems, and struggles between good and evil, this might be the story for you.
The already quiet atmosphere became so silent that one could hear a pin drop as Ullen crossed the tavern's interior toward the singer. He made it halfway before a bulky man with a mace on his hip and a sneer on his face stepped in his way.
Ullen looked up into the man's eyes with a deadpan look. "Move."
"Whaddya want with the bard?" the man snarled. "I paid for the next song, and I ain't gonna lose coin to a prude like yo- hck!"
Losing his patience, Ullen punched the man in the throat, and while the latter bent over, clutching at his throat, the inquisitor walked past. This time, everyone shuffled out of the way, shrinking themselves in their seats or stepping back to make way.
The bard's eyes were as round as the full moon when Ullen approached, his grip on his lute so tight that his knuckles went white. "C-can I help you, sir?"