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Garden of the Abyss

Transported into another world, professional shut-in, Ren Nakamura, expects a path of ludicrous powers, fame, and glory; the classic tale of an otherworld hero saving a doomed world from the conquest of a tyrannical, almighty demon king. --What he receives instead, is a harsh reality check. Betrayed, beaten, and humiliated, he quickly learns the true nature of this world: it doesn’t cater to him in the slightest. Inept, gullible, and unsociable, he must cultivate himself into a proper person, if he hopes to survive in the ravenous world of Gaia. In a twisted, yet fantastical world of magic, knights, and dragons that persecutes otherworlders, Ren must overcome his “level zero” start and cultivate himself into someone capable of fighting off the obstacles of Gaia. The otherworlder-hunting Argonauts, the world-loathing cultists, and even the very aspects of sin themselves; these are just the tip of the iceberg on the troubles that await him on his journey. But it’s a harsh, cruel world filled with misery and darkness; he can’t do it alone. Friends are made, friends are lost--that is the nature of the path he must walk. This is not the story of a blessed, perfect hero, but of a flawed, young man who has to shed his weaknesses. Together, witness his journey into becoming not just a proper hero, but a proper human. — DISCORD: https://discord.gg/ph6qfFknqe -- If you want to support the author: https://ko-fi.com/delzgb https://paypal.me/delzgb --- Cover done by Izu

DelzGB · ファンタジー
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544 Chs

In The Bowels of Madness

It was as if an invisible wall sat between the tip of the obsidian dagger and the flesh of the Marquis; he simply could not be reached. 

"Oh? Did I hit a button, perhaps? Look at that expression, Ren; even as wounded as you are, you're still so intent on killing me. You're a depraved one, there's no mistaking it." 

"...I'll kill you," he repeated, unable to look the man in the eye. 

Decartes only seemed to take delight in the constant threats as he loomed over the wounded young man, gripping him by his white tufts to keep him standing. 

The pale, white fingers that touched his hair were covered in scabs; so skeletal and disfigured as if they had been broken and battered endlessly. His nails were no different in their abhorrence as they sat at an abyssal, black shade.