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A Thread of Broken Fate

“You can bring back everyone you’ve lost. It will only cost your sanity.” The king is dead, murdered by an interloper from the future—a manic copy of his own son, hellbent on forcibly reversing a disastrous timeline. The true Damian Roswald—a hedonistic crown prince bereft of magical talent—finds his comfortable life upended by his father’s murder and assassins from his own future. “There are none left who can judge us, so we must be our own executioner. That is the cursed fate of those few named Damian Roswald.” With politicians plotting his demise, his royal cousins scheming for the empty throne, and warring churches tearing the grieving city apart, Damian must accept the tragedy of his countless futures—or else, find himself doomed to repeat them. But can a mere mortal decide their own fate in a world governed by almighty angels? “Find me, Damian Roswald. And I’ll tell you why the stars fell.” For three centuries, even the wisest men have accepted that the night sky was once populated by ‘stars’—until a terrible calamity plunged mankind into a Dark Age. From the darkness, the Roswalds rose to power, but few know that the first crown was forged with the blood of a slaughtered god… Damian must endure countless tragedies and the consequences of his own future actions to reach the peace he desires—but could the true threat be hiding not in his future, but in his own distant past? **Join our Discord and never miss a chapter!! https://discord.gg/M5cTyzW44Q**

BrettMichaelOrr · Urbano
Classificações insuficientes
145 Chs

what we (could) become.

Damian barely avoided the opening salvo.

With mirrored movements, the two Apostles summoned a dozen spears from opposite walls. Damian lurched forward, the spearheads ripping open the back of his shirt and gouging his flesh. The so-called 'Cardinal' pounced, crossing the length of the church in a single bound, his dagger passing through the space where Damian's head had been moments before.

Adrenaline flooded Damian's veins, his heart pounding, his lungs sucking in ragged bursts of tainted air. 

He looks just like 'him'—the other me!

Damian ducked and weaved, stumbling backwards as Cardinal attacked. Each blow came closer and closer to the mark, slicing open his shirt, flaying a strip of skin from his chest. 

Cardinal cackled as he pressed the offensive, his mouth wide in a gleeful grin.

"You've got spirit, kid! Dance, boy, DANCE!"

No—he's nothing like the so-called king I met. He's something else entirely!