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Fleshcrafting Technomancer (Hiatus)

A second chance, a failed reincarnation. He lies on a wooden stake, burning amidst a sea of jeering rabble, at last grasping alien truths. In this new world: Good cowered. Order Perished! Damnation Reigned!! And if God can't save him, the Devil shall!!! Follow Kilian as he sheds his last bits of innocence, trades his soul for a third chance, and rises to tame a wretched, dystopian world through devious cunning, unorthodox sorcery, and a little harem of monster girls on the side. Discord Link: https://discord.gg/tucy4kc Author's note: Graphic violence and detailed sex scenes are to be expected. Because this is a new story and I don't want to rush things, we start with 7 chapters per week. More as we go forward. Welcome to hell!

Devil_Paragon · 奇幻
分數不夠
117 Chs

Legions at the Gate (Part 1)

Kilian's eyes opened, no longer amber-shaded, but the same inhuman gold as the current Klaus. This had nothing to do with his Bloodline Fusion, but rather stemmed from the energy surge he received from Eleonora. When the last bit of energy dispersed, Kilian's pupils reverted to the previous amber.

With the fusion completed, his Dra Control dropped back to Archon level. But thanks to the experience and puzzle-solving, Kilian directly brought it to top-Archon level, enabling his strength to rise further. At the same time, the Eye of Fehl stirred, reaching the limits of the second stage, and approaching the third.

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[Name: Kilian]

[Race: Half Fehl]

[Age: 19]

[Magus Rank: low-level Archon]

[Battle Prowess: low-level Fehl Lord]

[Dra Reserves: 50,280]

[Knowledge Points: 145,072‬]

[Implants: Interlaced Chip Structure <> Lv. 2 Cyberkinesis Chip <> Lv. 3 Anti-Fehl Chip <> Lv. 3 Anti-Trauma Chip]

[Mutations: Stage II Eye of Fehl, Fehl Heart]

[Innate Abilities: Eye of Distortion, Eye of Revelation, Gift of Adramelech]

[Bloodline Abilities: Hybrid Lineage, Daemonic Wolf Form]

[Unique Disciplines: Lv. 4 Fleshcrafting<>Lv. 4 Transmutation]

---

In the cosmic puzzle, Kilian lost all perception of time. Thus he didn't see that from the moment Eleonora poured her energy into him to the fusion of the two Bloodlines, six hours had already passed. Spinning back to face Eleonora, Kilian saw her relaxing against the tree with her eyes glued on him.

"Not bad," she commented, and aware that there was nothing else to hide, Inyoka dispersed his Shadow Shroud and slid onto Eleonora's shoulder. By now, the suras' preparations neared the end. Kilian crawled toward Eleonora and pulled her onto his lap. If at first surprised by the move, Eleonora didn't resist, and with Kilian, watched the white flames of the suras' bonfire soar into the sky—marking the start of Haldir's Demagoria.

At the very center of the brazier, Haldir's face took shape, and as if conjured from the netherworld, he walked out of the brazier—like a flame spirit—to dance alongside the suras. The demagoria thus began, and though aware that the Flame Haldir was nothing more than an elemental construct, Kilian couldn't help but marvel at the scene. But for an instant—as if Haldir's appearance made her recall some unpleasant events—Eleonora frowned.

The suras' songs and enchanting bonfire kicked in, washing away all negativity in both Eleonora and Kilian's hearts. Still, neither stood to dance alongside them. Entranced by the bonfire, Kilian recalled memories of his childhood—not in his fallen Arcadian tribe—but on Earth. Since Eleonora didn't have any fond memory before her arrival in Arcadia, the bonfire didn't produce strong recollections in her.

"What did you see?" She asked Kilian as he snapped out of his reverie.

"My old man," he replied, but knowing that Kilian couldn't have any fond memories with Klaus, Eleonora rolled onto her back to peer into his face.

���Just like you, I have my secrets. Let's just say that in another life, in another world, like most I had a father that didn't see my life as a plot device," Kilian said with a half-suppressed laugh. Eleonora and Kilian's relationship was a mysterious one. Both knew that the other dragged a weighty past in every move, yet didn't bother probing the details—until one was ready to share.

"How was he?" Reading through Kilian's face changes, Eleonora inquired.

"Hardworking and tenacious. Born in slums, he worked his way out of them and went to college. But while bright enough to pursue any field, he followed his passion and became an archaeologist," Kilian said, eyes fixed on the bonfire as he stroked Eleonora's cheek.

"Five years later, I was born. My mother died from severe bleeding, leaving my old man to raise me on his own. The job sometimes got in the way of our family life, but he did his best to face both fronts and was pretty good at it. What a pity—" Kilian's voice trailed here, and for a moment, he spoke no further.

"What a pity that the discovery of ancient Mesopotamian ruins destroyed everything. Ground-penetrating radars didn't work, drones captured nothing, and even satellites proved useless. My father chose to become part of the exploration team that departed to explore the ruins firsthand. It collapsed on their heads." With neither friends nor kin, Kilian became orphaned at 10 and was forced back into the slums. The rest is history.

But though his voice didn't show any ripple, Eleonora wondered if he didn't keep his some emotions suppressed, and asked:

"Do you resent him for making that choice?"

"I used to. Maybe I still do. But if not for him, we wouldn't be here," Kilian replied with a heartwarming smile, and Eleonora asked nothing else. Meanwhile, the demagoria spread across all suras' minds, warning the uncorrupted among the 3,000 tribes of the current festival. From small to large tribes, many suras rose, casting their eyes toward Kilian's location. And though the dance continued, the elders now exchanged mental messages with their distant peers, inviting the willing, and forgetting the unwilling.

Alas, as legions of suras prepared to teleport to the demagoria, their movements alerted patrolling Fehl Suras who sent the news to their superiors. Thus, guests and foes alike approached Kilian's tribe in shocking numbers.

Meanwhile, alone in his art room, Klaus glanced at the drawing of a 10-year-old boy that, throughout Kars, none other than him could recognize. Few could imagine that this pencil-drawn picture was the Duke of Kars' most valued treasure. From Wilfried to Kilian, he didn't let anyone approach or touch it—well, almost.

Amber clouds whirled in Klaus' art room, and Niklas appeared, disguised as a 60-year-old man.

"Again with that picture? When will you tell me about the runt's identity?" Niklas asked. Before his premature death, Klaus often drew this same figure, and if at first, Niklas believed it represented some young friend of his, after some probes, he dismissed the idea.

"More than anyone else, the one I wish I didn't let down," Klaus replied, before setting the drawing aside.