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The Strongest Monarch In The Apocalypse Academy

In a white void between life and death, a soul witnesses fragments of memories—glimpses of someone called the Strongest Monarch, a being who shares his face but whose story remains incomplete. Then comes rebirth. As a newborn in the world of Aevoria, he awakens with two sets of memories: one belonging to Samiel, a graduate of the legendary Apocalypse Academy, and another shrouded in mystery. But something's wrong. The memories of his graduation years are missing, and with them, perhaps the key to preventing Aevoria's greatest crisis. The New Apocalypse is on its way. Ancient prophecies speak of a chosen hero—but Samiel knows he isn't the one. With time running out and three powerful academies vying for dominance, he must uncover the truth: Why were his memories erased? What secrets does the Apocalypse Academy hold? And can someone who isn't the chosen one still change destiny? In a world of cultivation, world system, wars, mythical beasts, and dark prophecies, Samiel will prove that sometimes the greatest heroes are the ones who write their own legends. After all, what's a prophecy to someone who's already lived twice? ____________ Warning: This story contains descriptions of violence, gore, and the depiction of intense emotional trauma. Reader discretion is advised. All events and characters are products of the author’s imagination. _____ ____ _ Discord Link -> https://discord.gg/ezVBxwCEPN

Peace_in_Chaos · Fantasía
Sin suficientes valoraciones
275 Chs

The Boy and The Prophecy [3]

The boy wandered around the walls, pillars, and the hall, enjoying the sight.

"Wait-! Are those... dragons?"

At the far end of the vast hall, two colossal dragon sculptures stood like ancient guardians, their forms hewn from obsidian stone that seemed to drink in what little light existed.

Their wings spread wide, nearly touching the distant ceiling, and their serpentine necks curved gracefully upward, jaws eternally frozen in silent roars. The detail in their sculpting was extraordinary—every scale seemed to catch the light differently, creating an illusion of movement in the shadows.

Between these magnificent sentinels stood a grand altar, its surface adorned with intricate draconic motifs. The altar itself appeared to be carved from a single piece of dark stone, but unlike the cold, lifeless rock of the cavern walls, this material held a subtle warmth, a barely perceptible pulse of energy that made the hair on the back of the boy's neck stand on end.