Prince of Nightmares: Banished to Hell With a System
After being cast to the depths of hell just for being born 'wrong,' Lokus was beaten down and trampled upon in its unforgiving lands, where power was everything. And for someone with no power like him? He was stuck at the bottom of the food chain. But his heart burned with a vengeance and a desire to show the world just how big of a mistake it had made in pushing him aside, to make those who had cast him down regret that they had ever looked down upon him. Amidst his suffering, the Phantom Monarch System answered his call for vengeance. Now armed with the opportunity to tear down those who stood above him, he begins his ascent to the top of the world, to cast down the ones who have thrown him away and make them rue the day they had ever thought themselves his betters. His so-called parents? He would show them what it meant to be worthless. The man who had banished him? Lokus would crush him under a torrent of ice. Those who had shunned him, scorned him, hated him? He would repay their hatred back tenfold. During his crusade, the words of a prophecy loom to his back all the while, its words haunting and its fulfillment fast approaching. "Dread thrice-shunned's rise heralds death. Broken kingdoms, shattered bonds, Reducing the waning light to but a distant whisper. Under sin, the daughter births a kindred spirit Tolling the war of void and stars for power nearest. Sinful winter shall clash with righteous sand, Inching towards an eclipse. Death heralds the end, the end heralds the beyond." ........ Readers will learn about the world as Lokus does. However, if you have questions and I deem them okay to answer without spoiling anything, I'll be more than happy to reply. Otherwise, you'll have to wait for Lokus to learn about them. The power system is inspired by both cultivation novels and rpgs, and the world itself by several fantasy books I loved growing up. If you like gritty scenes, systems, no harems, and struggles between good and evil, this might be the story for you.
His Luck
Jumping to his feet, he beheld a large man that appeared to be built out of pure, rippling muscle; someone that should have lacked the agility needed to reach the rooftops.
And yet the armor he wore was light and made of leather, hugging his frame to the point that every wriggling vein and flexing muscle was fully on display, leaving nothing to the imagination.
His skin was tanned from years spent under the sun, and his hammer was almost as large as he was, which was saying something considering that the man was easily over seven feet tall.
But when the man approached, he did so with a grace that seemed out of place for someone of his size, his booted feet almost seeming to dance along the shingles of the sloped roof as he adjusted his grip on his hammer.