Prince of Nightmares: Banished to Hell With a System
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.
Needs to Stop
The other man instantly deflated, his gaze gaining the same blank look as all of the others. He was only a Prince, and didn't even have a Mandate or Edict to his name, much less a Throne. Only the connected and the powerful had access to those in the Aldark, and he was just some unlucky sod who had been banished shortly after his Coronation.
Compared to the soldiers, who had been trained, given Thrones to push them to the Aspiring King rank, and handed all the Mandates and Edicts they could want, he might as well have been a clump of dirt trying to smother a mountain.
The cook left it at that, trying to help the burned man stand. The man was as limp as a dead fish, and wasn't responding to his murmurs, but he kept trying. "The mess hall is closed for the next hour," he said to those still here. "You're all free to stay, but don't touch the food, or I'll cut your rations."