When the soul of a 15 year old teen suddenly arrives as a 7 year old in a romanced-based novel world where logic is thrown out of the window in favour of covering the plot holes.

How will this soul traverse the illogical, borderline stupid world. 

(Note: This is meant to be a satire for the common CEO(or generally rich, op male leads) romance tropes.)

When the soul of a 15 year old teen is suddenly transported into the body of a 7 year old in a romanced-based novel world where logic is thrown out of the window in favour of covering the plot holes.

How will this soul traverse the illogical, borderline stupid world. 

(Note: This is meant to be a satire for the common CEO(or generally rich, op male leads) romance tropes.)

Juliet knew herself more than anyone, she was selfish, greedy, cunning and ruthless. Built on a foundation of anxiety and self image issues, her life had suddenly began to stabilise again, she had a happy family, a perfect friendship and even managed to bury her mental health problems. Unfortunately, because of how calm her life has been she decided to becoming the girl of her ex crush in other to gain satisfaction of claiming the superior goods.

Hexo, somewhat understanding what was happening thanks to his sense, gave John a thumbs up, while Shera and Satire both remained clueless.
The tiger went out from it's hiding and walked out of the trees.  
Satire's eyes widened when she saw it. It was big, over three times the size of John. It could probably swallow him whole in one bite.
Shera readied her daggers in case of confrontation, but Satire reassured her that it would be better to wait and watch.
John and the tiger panther stared at each other for what felt like hours, before it eventually took the corpse in front of him and left.
"Let's go." Said John after appearing beside another corpse and picking it up. He froze off the wound so that the blood wouldn't get on him.
"What was that? Am I hallucinating?" Satire asked
"Nope, that was real. More importantly, why does it feel like we've been standing here for a long time? It's kind of sad when I think about it." Replied Hexo as he noticed a tear flow down the side of his cheek.
"So wait… A Griffin just appeared out of the woods and left without trying to attack us? Did John use mind control on it or something?" Satire asked
"Huh? What're you talking about? That was an earth dragon. There weren't any wings. And didn't you hear what I just said?" Claimed Hexo
"What're you talking about? An hour isn't a long time and that was definitely a Griffin. The body of a lion, feet and the head of an eagle. What part of that was a dragon? Earth dragons don't have wings… More importantly, if it were an earth Dragon, we'd be fighting right now."  
"An hour?! It felt like a month! And How the hell was that a Griffin?! I felt the vibrate with it's every step! If griffins were that heavy, then they might as well put cosmetics on their wings."  
"Month?! We just got here! And I'm telling you, you're the one who saw it wrong!"
While the two argued over what they had seen. Shera looked over at her dagger before placing it back inside of it's sheath on her hips.  
She then looked over at her hand before clenching it as she gazed into the woods.  
"Fox…?" She muttered
"Yeah." John replied  
John's sudden unannounced voice which came from behind her, deeply started her and sent a shiver down her spine causing her to simultaneously leap forward and draw her dagger once more.
The sudden movement alerted the two who were arguing, making them quickly raise their guards and draw their weapons.
"What's wrong? Enemy?" Hexo asked
Shera quickly glanced at John before letting out a sigh. She only realized that it was him after drawing her own weapon so now she felt bad.
"N-No… Sorry John, instinct." Muttered Shera as she placed her dagger back in it's sheathe while she hung her head.
Her purple hair seeped out of her hoodie and covered her clearly troubled face.  
"It's fine." Said John before he turned his head back towards the trees.
He could feel something approaching them.
Once she heard that she was forgiven, she let out a sigh of relief. Truthfully, she wasn't very good at working in teams. Mainly because of her background.
As she raised her head, she felt Hexo approaching.
"Hey, Shera… I don't know if I said this earlier but… Your combat style, the way you use your poison and dagger… Accurately and stealthily aiming for vital points, while making as Little sound as possible, you're an assassin aren't you? " Hexo whispered as he placed his hand on her shoulder
She stood thinking about how to reply, she didn't necessarily want to hide it but she'd usually have bad experiences whenever someone would find out. Assassins weren't held in a good regard after all.
She gave a slight nod with the same troubled and hollow look.
"Is that so… That's…"
She could already see what he was going to say. It was too dangerous, she was going to be a hindrance to the team. He couldn't fully trust her with it. Such was the norm. After all, Assassins were assassins. They kill people for money. Opposite of Adventurers who save people for money.
"So cool!" Said Hexo  
Confused, Shera looked up at Hexo only to see an excited look on his face. She didn't understand.
"What?" Shera asked, surprised.
"No wonder It's hard to keep track of your presence and movements. You must be quite the skilled one, huh…"
Satire who watched and listened from afar, frowned at how clueless Hexo was being. 'Does he think it's some kind of joke…?' She wondered
Shera didn't know what to say. She looked down, nervously trying to think of what sort of words should come out of her mouth next. She was never much of a speaker, and now she was put on the spot in the middle of a conversation she had never experienced before.
'He's… Not mad…?' Shera wondered
"Huh…? What are you going on… About…? Do you think this is funny…?" Shera asked  
"Shera?" Hexo muttered
'Oh boy… That idiot…' Satire thought to herself as she placed her palm on her face.  
Shera's confusion had all been completely turned into anger which clouded her thoughts  as she began to speak her true thoughts.
"Cool…? It's cool…? Tell me… Tell me what about it is cool!? I kill people for money, murder! It doesn't matter if they're bad or not, I take lives! I ruined everything which meant everything to me because of it, and now I have nothing!" She shouted.  
She then glared at Hexo as she muttered. "If you still think that's cool… then somethings wrong with you…"  
After the words had come out, Shera had finally realized what she had said. She had lost her cool again, even though it was something she was taught countless times to never do.
She looked up to see the look on Hexo's face, thinking or assuming that he'd have realized and regretted his words by now, but he still had that same smile on his face.
Right before she could say anything however, he spoke up.
"Yeah… You're still cool. I mean… What's not cool about doing whatever you can to survive?" He asked.
Shera had always been good at reading expressions. She could tell when someone was pitying her or sympathizing with her. But the smile on his face, didn't seem like it was either of those. It was a smile filled with sorrow, almost as if he had experienced something similar.
When she saw it, she didn't know what to say in return. Even Satire didn't expect that reply. Satire was even beginning to wonder if she should have even been there.  
Shera opened her mouth to say something, but that moment was quickly interrupted by John who appeared out of nowhere in between them.
"Let's go." He muttered, completely oblivious to the mood as he stretched out his hands to them.
Satire who saw this was dumbfounded but at the same time felt saved.  
'Perfect timing…' She thought to herself.
Shera nodded and so Did Hexo. They didn't say any other words and grabbed on to John's hand. Satire who saw this, did the same.  
Once everyone got a firm hold over John, they all levitated up heading straight towards the small floating Earth platform they had prepared.
As they made their ways up into the sky, Satire could feel her heart sink, and in that moment she remembered. 'Aren't we forgetting something?'
***
Minutes, Hours and Days pass as they continued on their journey. The destination getting ever so closer with each passing second.
Currently, they were traveling at around 120 Miles per hour on the floating platform.  
John had given the platform small walls around A meter tall just in case of any accidents and four earth vaults which contained each of their luggage.  
Each once was in each corner of the platform to balance it, but due to the difference in weight from each luggage It became harder to control the platform and keep it balanced, but he soon-after got used to it.
There was no development in the relationship between Hexo and Shera, the two were hadn't been talking much if not when necessary.  
The whole mood between the group was rather tense, and satire was the only one trying to liven it up.  
However, she didn't have to do much as the view itself played a great part.
"Hey… Is that, what I think it is?" Hexo asked as he stared into the distance.
Shera who had been doing maintenance on her weapons and Satire who had been reading a book, looked over to see what they were talking about.  
The moment they did, their eyes widened. The sun rising from the direction of a large, deep blue ocean which stretched out as far as the eye could see.  
In that one moment and for just that one moment, The scenery along with the sun rising, had lifted all of the weight of their minds, as they all shared the same thought.
"Beautiful…" Satire muttered as a tear could be seen forming in her eye.
They had finally done it. They had reached the ocean.


Our 14 year old protagonist John has lived his life in an honest manner. After losing his parents, he strives to become a man that they would be proud of. After an accident he is reincarnated into another world as an orphan.
Having started off with little to no support and information. How will he deal with this situation?

Join me on discord: https://discord.gg/nhvKh9q

Illustration by: rean_kidd 

-------------------------------
After meeting a certain power ranking goal, chapters will be mass released according to the goal the i set.

Current goal:
Top 100: 5 Chapter mass release

Warning: Contains Violence and blood

If by some miracle someone discovers this, I have one thing to ask...

How the fuck did you get here? It seems like a strange place to be, but who am I to question you. Ok, instead of inquiring about your current life choices, I should probably explain what I am trying to do here. Satire.

If you haven't figured it out yet - a rather astounding achievement if you ask me - I'm making fun of the common methods authors use on this site to write. As of right now, I have zero chapters up but am working on the "cultivation" genre. I get that it's low hanging fruit, but the other apples aren't much higher. Don't expect much from me; I'm lazy, uninspired, and probably just put a semicolon where it doesn't belong. Grammar was never my strong suit, but I can say that about almost every class I was in.

Feel free to correct my grammar, it is a big weakness of mine and I would like to improve it. I embrace all grammar nazis, but not because of the nazi part. No Klan meetings to be had in this here novel.
 
Oh, almost forgot to mention a little detail. If it ain't in the auxiliary volume, it's a safe bet to assume it's satire. I will try to make it obvious, but there is only so much I can do when it comes to text. 

Alright, time for me to start on it. Probably should have had the first chapter all typed out before I made this, but hey, I'm not one to plan ahead.

Are you trying to write a novel, but you just aren't sure that you are capable of making a successful story? You're in luck! 

Anyone is capable of writing a story people will vote for, no matter how dumb you may be; just look at the power stone rankings!

By following my detailed guide, I guarantee you that those sweet readers will flock to you! From cultivation novels to whatever the last category I choose to write about, this guide leaves no base uncovered.

Now just sit back potential fanfic writers and read my book, because soon you will learn how to prey on the less intellectually gifted through the use of foolproof cliches and feel good self-insertion!

Enjoy!

The netizens were presently still sunned at Wang Juhuai's sudden Weibo post.
Although it happened tonight at the dinner, the netizens had had no idea.
They had not caught wind of it.
The Net suddenly became flurried with activity. "What did Wang Juhuai mean by this?"
"What dinner? Any kind souls who know about this, care to spill?"
"I smell gossip."
"Search no further, Nan Yin just published an article!"
It turned out to be y Tang Zi, who quickly snapped a few close-ups of Lin Jinshu's twisted grimace and immediately wrote an article before posting it to Weibo. He dared not dilly-dally.
If he were slower, someone else would have seized the chance to publish the headlines.
Nan Yin headlines: "CEO of LYNN Company, Lin Jinshu, gets slapped by Wang Juhuai publicly for falsely claiming to be his wife at the investment dinner held by Sheng Yue tonight."
It was followed by a video and three close-up shots of Lin Jinshu's twisted face.
Because of Lu Man's advance notice, Tang Zi was able to publish this news instantly.
While the other reporters were crowded around Lin Jinshu before the dinner ended, Tang Zi had already exited the crowd and seized the opportunity to churn out this news.
"My God, what a shameless woman!"
"Who's that Qingwei that Wang Juhuai mentioned?"
"Don't know, that's not important. The main focus is on Lin Jinshu, okay?"
"No wonder Wang Juhuai is so infuriated. Divorced for ten whole years and yet the ex-wife still refused to give up and kept hanging on to him, even brazenly claiming to be his wife while slandering his current wife. Anyone else would be angry too." 
"Lin Jinshu didn't refute it when Wang Juhuai said she threatened him. Must be true, then."
"Goodness, how shameless! 'The shameless is invincible'—that describes Lin Jinshu perfectly!"
"I think the reason they divorced is because Lin Jinshu's too shameless."
"Haha, see if Lin Jinshu can continue going around maligning others!"
Wang Juhuai saw the news when he was on the way home.
Right away, "Eight Skin Entertainment" released another satire Weibo post accompanied with pictures and captions.
And Lin Jinshu had yet to see all of these.
She was still trapped at the dinner, surrounded by reporters.
"Go away!" Lin Jinshu fumed. "I have nothing to explain!"
"This is my private affair!" Lin Jinshu said as she pushed at the reporters, desperate to dash out.
But she appeared pathetic being blocked by reporters.
Her earlier elegance was gone, replaced with an ugly rage. 
Her carefully styled hair now utterly messed up, not one inch of gracefulness was left on her; she just looked like a crazy woman.
Right then, Lin Jinshu saw the one who brought her here and hurriedly called out, "CEO Lin! CEO Lin, help me!"
CEO Lin was furious. Why would he be willing to help her?
Ha!
He treated her as a friend, introducing her to people of importance in B City. Yet she lied to him and made him into a joke!
*** 
When Wang Juhuai reached Yi Garden, Han Zhuoli was there too.
Wang Juhuai smiled. Han Zhuoli was really his wife's shadow; wherever Lu Man was, he would be there as well.
"Everything's settled," Wang Juhuai told Xia Qingwei. "No need to worry."
"I saw the Weibo posts already." Xia Qingwei took the coat he took off.
When she saw the video, she felt for Wang Juhuai. An artist who's usually courteous and elegant, he actually had to shout at Lin Jinshu publicly. 
No wonder Lu Man kept reminding him to not feel embarrassed.
"All thanks to Man Man." Wang Juhuai heaved a sigh of relief. "Your reaction was so fast. From the moment I ripped apart Lin Jinshu's lies to the headlines published online, and then to have marketing accounts publish satire images, everything was done within half an hour. Now Lin Jinshu can't react and save her public image even if she wishes to."


"Take me in, I'll do anything you want me to!" 

In her previous life, Lu Man is sent to prison after being framed by her step-sister and an asshole. After being released from prison, the only thing that greets her is her mother's tombstone. Seeing the asshole and bitch getting happily along together like one big family with her birth father and step-mother, she sets out to die together with the asshole and her step-sister in fiery flames. 

The moment she opens her eyes again, she finds herself back on the very day she was framed. Resolutely jumping out the window and climbing next door, she seeks refuge from the man occupying the room there. But who would have guessed that the man is the brilliant hunk she has always admired from afar in her past life?

She vows to rub her eyes clean and be more discerning of people. She wants to make everyone who owed her in the past to pay her back! 

"Young Master Han, can you let me hug your other arm too?" 
"Actually, I have one more, do you want it?"
"…" 

Levit sat at the co-pilot's seat as the aircraft rose off the roof of Hold 5. Eva sat next to him, working the controls. The aircraft was a rigid, elongated vessel with two wings connected to a 360o socket joint at the body. The wings had a gyrating rotor each that controlled direction and speed.

"Where are the guards on the roof?" Levit asked, finding their absence odd.

"Three-hundred metres under," Eva said.

"Ah," Levit replied, almost inaudibly.

The aircraft eased forwards for two seconds and, with a burst of the rotors, shot forwards.

"Why aren't they following us?" asked Levit.

"Every Phasellus has a unique ability," she replied. "You can control any machine. My ability is that I can download a copy of myself into any computer that doesn't have an AI interface. I shut down all their vehicles. They won't be following us, ever."

"Hm," Levit nodded. "Where are we going?"

"Olsonfield," Eva replied.

Levit's eyebrows rose. "Why so far?" he asked.

"It's a stronghold," Eva replied. "Citizens much like you who see error in the ways of this country's rulers are gathering there against them. Right now, I stand as their leader. Once we get there, we'll see if we can get you at the helm."

"Me?" asked Levit. "Why me?"

"You are the foster-son of Elvis Castlebridge, yes?" she asked.

"Don't call me that," Levit replied. It still bothered him that the people he thought were his parents actually weren't who they said they were.

"Very well," he said. "You have the resources. The money required to run such a rebellion. You are of a higher social status. So, they will listen to you."

"They won't accept a new leader that easily," said Levit.

"Don't lose your faith in the world so fast, Castlebridge" Eva said. 

"I've already lost it," Levit interjected before she could say anything else.

"Nevertheless," Eva continued, "what makes you most suitable apart from money and society is your online profile CASTLEMAN87."

Levit's eyes widened. "How do you know that?" he snapped, looking at her for the first time since they'd entered the craft.

"Like I said," she said, "I can hack anything. I've been watching your online activity for a while now and I noticed how good you are at Satire."

Satire was an MMORPG warfare game where you and several friends participated as a team in defending territory and gaining ground. It was the second-most popular online game in the world.

"That's . . . unethical," Levit said, gazing down at the streets of Blackheim, which began to fade into suburbs, and then into grassland.

"The position is for you," Eva said. "Unnatural, though it may seem, the conditions have aligned perfectly."

"No matter what you say," Levit said, "this'll only work if your little rebellion wants me to be their leader."

Despite his doubts, the thought of leading a revolution against his country's twisted government tempted him. But he couldn't ignore the logic in his own words. He would only be able to command them if he had their trust.

Trust. Something he would have to create. 

They were coming upon a factory sitting in the middle of the plains. Two guards were posted at the front. There was a man standing on the helipad that sat atop the building. Levit assumed that this was their landing place.

The craft began to descend.

"Have faith," said Eva as she opened the door on her side, the craft touching down. Before she jumped, she looked at him. "The greatest thing about this world . . . is that it can be changed."

And she jumped off. After a pause, he too followed suit.

"Miss Eva," said the man on the roof as the rotors of the craft slowed. "Glad to know you made it. And you have our . . ." he regarded Levit, ". . . package."

"You doubted me, Reginald?" she asked.

He smiled. "Come on," he said. "The Assembly's waiting."

"I don't like Mondays; I just did it to make my day."
Brenda Ann Spencer
That phrase may make you peculiar, something normal, usual, common, and ordinary. What's more, it may even be used by yourself or by people close to you. An even comical phrase, which the media have imposed on us against a background of satire and joke. But in reality, although the idea that Monday is held as the worst day of the week seems to be from this century, it was said by someone forty years ago (1979), at the end of the seventies, and in a context not very healthy, much less comical, at least, not for their victims or their families.
Brenda Spencer was a teenager of only 16 years old when she said that, when she was arrested by the police after shooting clothes at an educational institution, from one of the windows of her house for six agonizing, thunderous, and chilling long hours. An ordinary person, like you or me, who one day simply decided to shoot a group of children because she noticed that they were easy prey... Oh, right, and because she was bored.
Some time ago a very close friend had a pending writing assignment, a job that consisted of writing something, whatever came to you and inspired you but only using a limit of sheets specified by the teacher. My friend wrote a story related to drugs. A girl trapped in a cell, from which it was almost impossible to escape. She never really wanted to lengthen the story, so I asked her permission to create a novel based on those few written sheets. Time passed and I was not very clear about what I wanted to write on top of that short, but intense story.
One of my personal pleasures is reading about the mental capacity of man, and this also includes his defects. Watching a documentary about Ted Bundy, I was bitten by the curiosity bug, and I started to read more in-depth about sociopathy (symptoms, treatments, and examples), and I was surprised that there are more than I imagined (cases), and that the number of mental illnesses of these characteristics has grown over time in a regrettable and silent way. Now sociopaths hide much better in a society shrouded in commercial garbage and fallacies in all the media. It was then, and only then, that I thought about writing about it, and taking as a basis that little story of yesteryear that I promised to follow, but did not fulfill, until now.
Rapes, drugs, executions, kidnappings... All of this is closely linked and happens from day to day without even realizing it, because they do not inform us at all well, or even worse, because we turn our heads when they put us the putrid reality in front. This book is a wake-up call for anyone who believes that progress in our civilized society is directly proportional to its perversion.
You will notice that it is divided into numeric subtitles since it will only contain four main chapters, which will be accompanied by various epigraphs, chilling phrases spoken by people who at some point in history existed (and exist), just to make others perish. The facts that you will read next are my own, ideas created and based on hours of information collected, but they are not historical or bibliographic events. That is, it is a compilation of fragments of life from the worst class of people you can imagine, but not focused on just one, and based on that, I managed to create an original and fictitious story. A satire on prejudice, and aggressive enough to give you the illusion that it is real.
Without further clarification, I hope from the bottom of my being, you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed it... Or this time not so much, in writing it.

Fifteen-year-old student Rachel has just moved into a new home with her mother and sister after her parents divorced. In better spirits, his mother encourages her to regain the hobby she left behind: athleticism; due to problems at home.
The first morning that Rachel decides to go for a run, she will get lost in the new neighborhood for walking in the clouds, thinking of a boy from high school, but luckily, that charismatic boy was passing through the lonely place. However, when Rachel gets in the car and buckles up, confident in the boy's kindness and warmth, he will put her to sleep and have other intentions in mind.

"I don't like Mondays, I just did it to make my day."
- Brenda Ann Spencer
That phrase may make you peculiar, something normal, usual, common, and ordinary. What's more, it may even be used by yourself or by people close to you. An even comical phrase, which the media have imposed on us against a background of satire and joke. But in reality, although the idea that Monday is held as the worst day of the week seems to be from this century, it was said by someone forty years ago (1979), at the end of the seventies, and in a context not very healthy, much less comical, at least, not for their victims or their families.
Brenda Spencer was a teenager of only 16 years old when she said that, when she was arrested by the police after shooting clothes at an educational institution, from one of the windows of her house for six agonizing, thunderous, and chilling long hours. An ordinary person, like you or me, who one day simply decided to shoot a group of children because she noticed that they were easy prey... Oh, right, and because she was bored.
Some time ago a very close friend had a pending writing assignment, a job that consisted of writing something, whatever came to you and inspired you but only using a limit of sheets specified by the teacher. My friend wrote a story related to drugs. A girl trapped in a cell, from which it was almost impossible to escape. She never really wanted to lengthen the story, so I asked her permission to create a novel based on those few written sheets. Time passed and I was not very clear about what I wanted to write on top of that short, but intense story.
One of my personal pleasures is reading about the mental capacity of man, and this also includes his defects. Watching a documentary about Ted Bundy, I was bitten by the curiosity bug, and I started to read more in-depth about sociopathy (symptoms, treatments, and examples), and I was surprised that there are more than I imagined (cases), and that the number of mental illnesses of these characteristics has grown over time in a regrettable and silent way. Now sociopaths hide much better in a society shrouded in commercial garbage and fallacies in all the media. It was then, and only then, that I thought about writing about it, and taking as a basis that little story of yesteryear that I promised to follow, but did not fulfill, until now.
Rapes, drugs, executions, kidnappings... All of this is closely linked and happens from day to day without even realizing it, because they do not inform us at all well, or even worse, because we turn our heads when they put us the putrid reality in front. This book is a wake-up call for anyone who believes that progress in our civilized society is directly proportional to its perversion.
You will notice that it is divided into numeric subtitles since it will only contain four main chapters, which will be accompanied by various epigraphs, chilling phrases spoken by people who at some point in history existed (and exist), just to make others perish. The facts that you will read next are my own, ideas created and based on hours of information collected, but they are not historical or bibliographic events. That is, it is a compilation of fragments of life from the worst class of people you can imagine, but not focused on just one, and based on that, I managed to create an original and fictitious story. A satire on prejudice, and aggressive enough to give you the illusion that it is real.
Without further clarification, I hope from the bottom of my being, you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed it... Or this time not so much, in writing it.

- How did you spend your day? Did you see anything interesting? 

- Yes, I was in such a large brick church with a large tower... 

- St. Mary's Basilica ? 

- I think so, but I'm not sure. 

- If there was a tall tower, it would be this one. You might not know it, but it is a common church, where Catholic and Protestant services celebrate. Did you see anything else interesting? 

- A performance on the market, a group of actors, acrobats and musicians, I did not know that I had such a famous husband. 

- I do not understand what my fame has to do with actors? 

-  Part of the performance was about you, I don't know Polish, but I asked them to be translated for me.

I had a bad feeling, I ordered Mr. Wrona to pay a few acting groups to praise my name, but I had no idea how they did it. I wish my wife would not hear about some of my accomplishments. 

- And what was in that performance? 

- They sang a song like how you beat up the Swedes and Muscovites. They called you the Wolf of Podolia... 

It's not that bad, a good tough nickname and without some nasty details. It could be worse. 

-... and then there was a verse how mothers have to hide their daughters from you. 

As soon as I heard that, I choked on the mead... Mr. Wrone will hang, no... he himself probably doesn't know what they are singing. I'm going to hang these actors... my wife continued. 

- That apparently they all cry their eyes for you, and you only have a war in your head. 

- My dear wife, they are actors. What they don't know, they're probably making up.

- But it's probably true, you said yourself that you spent more of your life on the battlefield than at home, and you had no wife before. 

- I do not love war, but whoever holds the sword has peace. Whoever indulges the enemy, prepares death for himself. Was there anything else interesting in this performance? Apart from your wonderful husband, of course.

- It was a comedy, about a King who tried to sit on two thrones and each time he fell and hurt his "sitting". 

-  And that's what good acting is. Instead of me, only such plays should be staged.

- You haven't seen the show, and you say it's good. 

- My wife, because this is a political satire, about the Vasa family... They have one throne, but they dream about the other. When they reach for the second, the first eludes them. 

- But there was also a soldier in this performance, he had a shield and a spear. He looked like a warrior from many centuries ago. He had an eagle painted on his shield and he just shook his head. If the King on two thrones is a Vasa family, who is this soldier? 

- I don't know, I haven't seen the play, but maybe Piast. 

- Piast? 

- The Piast family were the first Polish rulers. Nowadays, when kings are chosen by the nobility, they are often not Poles. Sometimes we are lucky and we have a King like Stefan Batory, sometimes we are unlucky and we get Henryk Walezy or some Vasa... if someone says that he wants Piast, it means that he wants a Polish king to be a Pole... Life in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth is strange , but you will get used to it over time.

I leaned over my wife and said in her ear. 

- My wife, do I only think about the war... you will find out for yourself when we are in Jazłowiec.

I kissed her cheek, every time I do so, her face turns red. 

- Good night wife, tomorrow afternoon we set off on the way to Jazłowiec. Better to get a good night's sleep. 

I escorted her to her room and went to my own. 

I was happy with what Elisabeth told me, of course they could have skipped the verse about me, but the satire on the king was excellent. Tomorrow I will look for these actors and I will add a coin for a job well done.

The night passed quickly, even too quickly. I wanted to laze around yet, but I had to pick up the necklace and look for these actors. 

When I got there, the goldsmith's workshop was still closed. So I decided to go to the market. After fifteen minutes, I got there. It was not difficult to locate a group of acrobats and actors, I think I arrived at the wrong time, heard some screams and arguments. 

I wasn't sure what was going on, but in the end my curiosity won out. It turned out to be a simple attempt to extort money, a group of several men demanded money from the actors for protection. I walked over to the gang leader, grabbed his arm and turned him towards me... surprised he looks at me not knowing what to do... I decided to explain the situation to him. 

- It has always been so that the weaker in some form had to pay the stronger for protection. This market is your territory, and these actors must pay to be safely here. Logical and obvious. The weaker must pay... but I am stronger than you and I came for my money. Pay me. 

He took the knife out of the belt and tried to stab me with it... I grabbed his hand and just crushed his wrist. The rest of his men came at me, they weren't demanding opponents. Two minutes later, they all lay on the ground, curled up in pain. I wasn't going to kill them, I broke everyone's spine as a lesson.

- I could have killed you, but I spare your life. 

Screams and confusion caused the guards to appear. A quick explanation of who I am made the case closed... I spoke to the guards. 

- These robbers probably only pretend to be wounded, I didn't hit that hard. 

After my comment, the robbers got a few kicks to encourage them to get up... however, without any effect. I left a few ducats to the actors for a good show and I went to pick up the necklace... such a morning stimulates better than coffee.

Commonwealth Crimson Age

http://wbnv.in/a/d3fmp47

I looked out towards the forest, and into the approaching army of goblins.

"I think I get what you mean by more annoying than anything I've fought before."

{Well, you will have to fight an extremely hostile army, mostly by yourself.}

"That's a little more than annoying. And also probably suicidal to be honest."

{The goblins are really only as dangerous as that mushroom crab you fought when they are in a horde like this.}

"Thank you for reassuring me of this annoyance being strong."

{You are welcome.}

I decided to retreat back to my home to tell everyone what the threat is.

"Hey everyone!! I found out the threat's identity! It's a goblin army!"

I could hear running, and then Jacob yelled back:

"That would explain how they found us!"

As soon as I processed those words, I could only say one thing:

"What?"

Jacob looked at me and said one sentence:

"Goblins have a terrible sense of direction. If you tell them to go somewhere, they could easily end up in the underworld trying to find their destination. Their sense of direction is a mystery that may never be solved."

"That is... Some bad sense of direction. I wonder what made it that bad?"

{Not us. They evolved into whatever they are now.}

'And there goes my idea of why.'

I decided to refocus and ask Jacob a serious question.

"How dangerous is a goblin army?"

Jacob was also acting serious about this. 

"They are not very dangerous honestly, but they are troublesome to deal with. Most goblins lack a sense of self-preservation, so they will keep attacking you until most of the army is dead."

I was surprised at how stupid they really were.

"Huh. That is something I would expect from something like a pack of giant animals rather than an army of goblins."

"How so?"

"Hierarchy. Sacrifice the lesser to help the greater."

"You are looking too deep into this."

"I probably am. Also, I am still going to get my revenge for seeing me to the underworld."

"Yeah, yeah, you can try. Just don't get your hopes up. I'm pretty hard to fool, after all."

And so we ended the conversation there, with a poorly hidden 'threat' and a dismissal.

-Back outside the house-

I left my home and headed in the direction of the army that was still approaching.

'How are they this slow to approach?'

{Lacking mental facilities.}

'Fair enough.'

I decided that it was a better choice to attack them when they were farther away from my home so that they did not damage my property.

So I charged at the army, hoping to catch them off guard.

And catch them off guard I did.

I rushed into the front ranks of the tightly packed army and used my [mycelial claws] to tear through the low-quality armor of the 'goblin warriors'.

I slashed in every direction I could, and they were extremely effective slashes.

The armors were cut like paper, and I was able to tear through the goblins easily.

It was a little nauseating to watch dozens of humanoid creatures die by my own hands, but I was too focused on removing the threat to worry about my feelings.

As I was tearing through the goblins, I noticed several goblins sneaking away and looting the bodies of the dead goblins.

It was disturbing to watch as a goblin robbed the corpse of someone who might have been a friend at some point.

I doubted that they had friends though.

I refocused on the fight I was currently in and continued my slaughter of the goblin warriors.

-3 minutes later-

I noticed that there were fewer warriors in the area, and looked around to see a field filled with goblin corpses.

I noted that there were still man goblins around me as well, and some were wearing purple robes.

'The heck are those goblins?'

{Mages.}

I felt the urge to facepalm when I heard the Gods' words.

'Well that seems obvious now that you pointed that out.'

{It was always obvious. You are just blind.}

'I never knew.'

{Well now you do. Refocus on the fight now. you are about to be attacked by several mages at once.}

'Oh.'

And so I refocused on the battlefield and saw several firey purple spheres flying towards me.

{Slash them.}

'Why?'

{Trust us, just do it.}

And so I did, and the spheres dissipated right before my eyes.

'How does that work?'

{Goblins are not very talented at magic, so the spells are very unstable.}

'That sounds reasonable.'

And then the mages disappeared.

"They can teleport?!"

{It's a trait of many magical creatures.}

"But still, why?"

{Magic manifests in many ways.}

"Great, you're back to being vague.

{Maybe we are, maybe we aren't. You may never know until the future reveals its secrets.}

"What?"

I never got to hear the answer due to an unexpected arrow impacting my armor. And another. And another.

I was getting hit by a volley of weak arrows, and they stung more than they hurt me.

"Where the hell did that entire volley come from?"

{Over there.}

"You do realize that you are literally just a voice, right?"

{Yes, and that is why we said over there.}

"Now is not the time for satire."

{On the contrary, it is always time for satire.}

 I looked around and noticed that there was a group of goblins with large bows around 50 feet away from me, and as soon as they saw me looking at them, they fired once again.

I had to use my hook to pull me out of the way, and even then I was still grazed by several arrows.

[Talon
hp 30/120
Status: hurt]

'Yikes. I must have gotten hit a few more times than I expected.'

{You took an entire volley of arrows to the face. A few more times is an understatement.}

'I guess it is. Well, time to solve my health problem for the moment.'

I downed a normal health potion, restoring my health to full.

"Man, strawberry is a very fitting flavor for a potion."

{We do not know if it truly is, but you may choose your opinion.}

"What?"

{You are possibly wrong.}

"Do you not like strawberries?"

{We will neither deny nor accept that statement.}

'Interesting.'

{Do note that you are currently being surrounded by the remaining 30% of the army.}

I snapped my focus back to reality and looked around.

I was definitely surrounded, and there was no gap between any of the goblins.

"Well this is just unfair isn't it?"

But for which side is it really unfair to?

Now imagine my surprise when I woke up in the middle of nowhere, with no idea how I ended up in the middle of a forest.

Now imagine how much more surprised I was to see that I had a crafting interface and an inventory.

Now I would have had more fun joking about my misfortune right now, but I have to point out that it is I who am the recipient of the misfortune.

Well, at least this situation couldn't get any worse than it already is. (If you couldn't guess by now, it got waaaay worse.)

Welcome to the world of Terraria, where fighting hordes of zombies is as sure as the moon rising as the sun sets. At least zombies are the least of your worries in this world.

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