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Loki’s Successor System

Jin, a crippled teenager, lives in a multicultural society with a plethora of fantastical races all living in a modern world, where ordinary citizens are suppressed of magic at birth. Whereas, the Government, and people working for them, keep all of the Magic themselves. Jin’s entire teenage life changes forever on the last day of a stressful school term. He had been bestowed the power of a God. The power of the God of Mischief. Jin is caught in many dire situations given that he has been bestowed the system. Slowly, Jin becomes more powerful, and more … evil. The system slowly diminishes his sentience, and he transgresses to the cusps of the Mischief God he was destined to be. When later, all of the citizens, who’ve been suppressed of their magic at birth, begins to get their abilities awakened again. And the demon race, the most rebellious race, attacks the city for the systems. ______ The prologue is short because … let’s face it—nobody likes prologues… ———- Cover created and owned by the Author… ______ EXTRA - Update Stability: 1-3 Chapters per day, depending on power stone votes. Tropes you’ll find in this novel: Mature Content: If you can bare swear words, and some gore here and there, you’ll be fine reading this. R18 doesn’t imply rape and sexual content. System: There is a system, but it isn't the entirety of the story. The system isn’t the main focus here. Magical Realism: If you love magical realism, this might be your spice. Good paced Weak-to-Strong: MC will grow in strength at a respectable pace with the help of his system. ______

SkyStrider · Fantasi
Peringkat tidak cukup
261 Chs

Wrong House (Part 2)

I watched Miguel's body collapse to the floor like an inanimate object, the gunshot still echoing loudly in my ears. Horror-struck, my eyes widened. I tossed my head in the old man's direction. "What did you do? You shot Miguel!" I snapped. 

The old man raised his gun and blew at the emanating smoke. "I heard from your friend that Miguel is a cat. I ain't seen no cat; so I fired. But it doesn't matter nonetheless," he leaned in, "rubber bullets."

Miguel had gotten shot in his left thigh. He laid supine upon the floor, elevating the wound and groaning relentlessly in agony. I couldn't just watch him there. I jolted. And then I proceeded to move toward him. Though, as soon as I took as much as a single step forward, I heard a clicking gun.

I looked up at the old man, who now held his gun in front of him, aiming at me. I paused, scared out of my mind. I clenched my teeth. "He's still losing blood."