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The Author's POV

The person whom the world revolves around. The person who defeats all of his opponents, and ultimately gets the beautiful girl. The sole existence all villains fear. That is the protagonist. What about me? As a failed author who had only one success throughout his whole career, I had reincarnated into my late novel. "This is it" I thought, as I tightly clenched my fist. Did I just get reincarnated in my own novel? Is this where I reincarnate in a novel and become the protagonist? No. Sadly it's not that kind of novel, as I reincarnated as a mob. The world doesn't revolve around me. The girls don't come flocking towards me. The cheat items don't come to me. "Phew" I let out a sigh of relief. "Thank god I'm not the protagonist" I joyfully shouted as tears streamed down my cheeks. Wait, are you curious as to why I don't want to be the protagonist? I did forget to mention the most important thing when I was describing a protagonist. That is... They are calamity magnets. I just died. If I learned something from that, it's that it really isn't a pleasant experience. If possible let me live a long stable life. Thank you, whoever reincarnated me. I would later come to regret these words... ======== Reader Disclaimer : Please read the *Read before reading novel* in synopsis. ======== Credit to _oinkchan for helping me find the previous novel cover Credit to Rengoku for his amazing edit of the new cover. ======== Discord : https://discord.gg/FNAKgfyky4 Patreon : https://www.patreon.com/TheAuthorPOV

Entrail_JI · Fantasía
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864 Chs

Returning to Immorra [3]

A castle was perched alone atop a cliff, surrounded on all sides by tiny towns. It had been standing there for many centuries, heavily worn out from the times. 

With some mismatched towers and asymmetrical designs, it had a fairly crude appearance. Even yet, it did not lessen the imposing impression it left.

But in contrast to its imposing exterior, it was completely empty inside.

In a large hall where large banners cascaded down the sides and a large throne sat at the far end, a meeting was taking place. 

"...We've lost ground. The demons will reach the city within the next year." 

The orc kneeled down on one foot. 

"One year?" 

A low, solemn voice filled the room. 

"How long will our supplies last?" 

"Five years. Supplies aren't a problem." 

"...I see." 

Silence descended on the room. 

It was only after a while that the voice once again echoed. 

"You may leave."