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Primal Gate

A lot of people wonder what happens when they die. Dylan didn't care. Life, quite frankly, had been shit. He was 28, lived with his syringe-ridden mother, and worked at a local fast food joint. The only saving grace in his life was his girlfriend, Lila. That was until he found her dead body on his porch, one night coming home from work. Before he even has a chance to recover from the shock, something hard and heavy hits his head, and everything goes black. "Dude, get up already." a deep, but smooth voice said in annoyance. "People usually don't take this long." Dylan slowly came to, with the realization that someone was talking. He couldn't make out what was said, so he decided to open his eyes. When everything focused, he noticed his entire field of view was covered with a mans face. 'Well you could call it a man, or I guess it could be a woman.' Dylan thought, as he contemplated this attractive strangers gender. The person then swept their slightly long, blonde hair out of their face. With that motion Dylan could see the full profile of the person. "It's about time," the person said. "You got slim-pickings when it comes to worlds to start from, so lets get going!" "Names Homer," the person said as they stretched a hand to help Dylan off the floor. "And, you died." Dylan's eyes narrowed, as he registered what Homer had said. 'Really?' he thought. "Thank God!" he shouted. "God-sss. With and 'S' young man." Homer said in a whimsical tone. "And oddly enough, one of them would like you to thank them in person." - A story of pain, regret, power, swords and magic. If you enjoy any of @Warmaisach's work, or other antihero/OP protagonist style novel's, you'll enjoy this! - Author: fxckshawnfiction Contracted with @webnovel Premium chapters start after chapter 20

fxckshawnfiction · Fantasie
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78 Chs

LII

Grain had been able to walk around and care for himself for nearly a month now, the whole time completely avoiding the system. He knew it would only be bad or inaccurate information, so he opted to ignore it for now.

He was currently standing in the courtyard of The Dark One's mansion. Wearing armor nearly identical to his previous set, only missing a left sleeve and made to fit snuggly around his prosthetic.

He had managed to find a mask similar to his old one and a cloak that resembled Death's Cowl.

BlackClaw had been lost in the tear but he didn't have much use for a sword right now anyways.

He didn't look much different than before the BloodWar, at least when he was clad in his gear. His body was in perfect shape just as before but it was covered in dark, jagged scars.