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The Forsaken Sovereign

"The veil of sanity is a lie we tell ourselves when we gaze at the night sky, hoping, in a stifled corner of our mind, that the stars aren't gazing back." — A nameless, insignificant, yet ambitious young man once attempted to rescue his family from poverty. But as he found hope, he also stumbled upon despair. After losing everything to the darkness of death, including himself, he woke up in another world, stuck in the body of an eleven-year-old boy with a peculiar appearance. He soon discovered that he was a Celestial Offering—a holy sacrifice, carefully groomed by the Temple of Stars to be given to the Gods Beyond. His fate had already been sealed, for his blood would spill under the seven-pointed star and consecrate the birth of a new era for his nation. Armed with nothing but his wit and the trail of good fortune, he would attempt to challenge this destiny, braving the countless hurdles that lay in waiting and the unfathomable horrors they harbored. In a realm of magecraft, occult rituals, madness, and prowling Eidolons, he could only count on himself to survive, as the threat of insanity loomed over everyone equally, and nothing could slow its ineluctable embrace. — Discord: Naphulae#1813

Naphulae · ファンタジー
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189 Chs

One's Comfort

Meanwhile, in Upper Mursa's tallest tower, under the sapphire-blue sheen of its glimmering spire. 

The Neoteric Syndicate's Chief Syndic sat on a regular, wood-carved chair freed from the local, deeply-ingrained scars of tacky opulence. His bulky frame gave the false impression of a relaxed pose, though the twitching and ceaseless shifting betrayed his yearning for his usual lectus. 

However, he dared not face the individual in front of him while reclining on such a seat. 

She sat cross-legged on a similar chair, a tinge of amusement stretching the corners of her violet-colored lips. She intently read an unfurled scroll, occasionally wrinkling her mesmerizing, elegant features for a chuckle. 

Her black strands, styled in asymmetric braids streaked with faintly golden hues, fluttered as she repeatedly glanced from the papyri to the Chief Syndic.