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Fate/Ascend

ClayTL
This is a fan translation of 求你让我上英灵座吧 The original author is 洛州白马 Art is by @km_mechi Edit is by ClayTL Please support them! === "I transmigrated into the Nasuverse and gained recognition from the Root itself. As long as I can manage an unnatural death, I’ll ascend to the Throne of Heroes—becoming its master, stronger and freer than any of the Seven Grand Servants." "So, I started courting death all across the Nasuverse." "I openly insulted the King of Heroes to his face, challenged the almighty Zeus in Greece, abducted Scathach in broad daylight in the Norse realm, declared in Israel that Solomon was a demon god rather than the Son of God, and in Britain, I went so far as to publicly side with Morgan..." "But tell me—why am I still alive?" ... Fuyuki, 1994. A man of many names: the third companion of the Oldest King, the First Vizier of Mesopotamia, the favored of the Greek gods, King of the Giants in the Norse lands, the divine incarnation who awakened Solomon’s humanity in Israel, the prince’s right hand in Camelot... Rovi, whose face was young but whose eyes carried the weight of ages, sat atop the Fuyuki Bridge. With a weary sigh, he looked at the people before him. “So, where do you think it all went wrong?” He lowered his voice, half-pleading, half-desperate: “How about... you kill me? Just let me ascend to the Throne, please—I’m begging you!” Emiya Kiritsugu lit a cigarette, glancing at Artoria beside him, who’d raised Rhongomyniad; at Gilgamesh, whose Gate of Babylon shimmered ominously behind him; at the blood-red spearhead emerging from the shadows of the Land of Shadows...The hand holding his cigarette trembled, just a little. === discord.gg/wisetl
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The General's Daughter: The Mission

Her childhood was forged in shadows, and she was sharpened into a weapon, trained to be a ghost, a killer—an instrument of vengeance. The target: a decorated general who brought down her family. But fate doesn't follow orders. Just as Lara was about to execute her long-planned mission, everything spiraled out of control. A military convoy intercepted her escape route—escorting none other than the general himself. And then came the moment that changed everything. A blinding crash. Screeching tires. Her body was thrown like a ragdoll, then darkness. She had a fleeting recollection of another world, another lifetime where kings ruled the land with an iron fist. But she woke up, and twelve long months had passed.  She did not know where she was or who she was. She remembered nothing. They told her different names. A child with trembling hope whispered, “Mommy, your name is Moira Torres.” Her doctor insisted, “Your admission slip says Larissa Reyes.” A hardened general leaned close and commanded, “Remember who you are. Remember your mission.” Then another general—dangerously calm, incredibly familiar—looked at her as if she mattered and asked, “Can I call you Lara?” The name unlocked something buried deep in her soul. Lara Norse Kromwel. Daughter of General Odin Norse. Empress of the First Empire. But the man who watched her most closely dismissed it with cold certainty. “This is the 21st century,” he said. “What nonsense are you spouting? What Empress? You are my woman. You can only be mine!"
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