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IF WE HAD ANOTHER CHANCE.

What if the love you lost was the only love you were ever meant to have? Imagine a love so powerful, so deep, it could rewrite destiny. A love that echoed through centuries, a whisper on the wind, a tremor in the earth, waiting for its time.Two hundred years ago, a love story unfolded, a tale whispered in moonlit forests and shadowed castles. It was a love forbidden, a spark that dared to ignite against the cold, hard laws of a world ruled by blood and ancient might. He was an Alpha, a creature of immense power, heir to a lineage steeped in loyalty and dominance. His heart, however, beat for a rhythm not of his world, a cadence of softness and human warmth. He fell for a woman, an ordinary human, a soul of gentle grace. Their love was a secret, a precious jewel hidden from prying eyes. From this union, a child was conceived, a promise of a future they desperately craved. But such defiance of the established order could not remain hidden. Their joy was fragile, a butterfly’s wing against a hurricane.Enemies, as shadows always do, discovered their hidden truth. The revelation was a thunderclap, shattering their fragile peace. The Alpha, his beloved human wife, and the unborn life they cherished were hunted. The pursuit was relentless, fueled by hate and the fear of a mixed bloodline. Their fate was sealed in a tragic climax, their lives extinguished, their existence erased from the annals of their kind. The world believed their bloodline had ended, a chapter closed forever.But some legacies are too potent to be silenced. Some destinies are woven too deeply into the fabric of existence to be severed. The thread of their line, though seemingly broken, had merely frayed, waiting for a new hand to pick it up.Fast forward two hundred years. The world is a different place. No more ancient castles casting long shadows. No werewolf kingdoms clashing in epic battles. The air hums with the mundane rhythm of the modern age, a stark contrast to the wild, untamed past. In this new world, a boy named James is born. He grows up under ordinary skies, his life unfolding in the familiar hum of everyday existence. He believes himself to be just another young man, unaware of the extraordinary heritage that flows through his veins. He knows nothing of his true identity, the origins of his blood, or the strange occurrences that begin to ripple around him as he navigates the currents of his youth.Then, one day, a profound shift occurs. A silent awakening. Something deep within him stirs, a dormant power stretching and yawning after a long slumber. His strength surges, defying all natural explanation. His senses, once dulled by normalcy, sharpen to an almost unbearable degree. His very body begins to transform, hinting at an ancient wildness. His temper flares with an intensity he cannot comprehend, a storm brewing within him. And in the silent depths of his being, a power that has slept for two centuries begins to stir, ready to reclaim its dominion.Adria is no longer just an ordinary man. He is the living embodiment of an ancient Alpha bloodline, a legacy reborn.
William_Masandeko · 1.9k Views

꧁ SACRED ꧂

Nothing is set in stone—not time, not fate, and certainly not Death. But in Rudra's existence, one thing has remained constant: a person. In her tears and rage. In her love and hatred. Now, Rudra is determined to figure out why she was the only one who mourned his death while the rest of the world celebrated his demise—especially since they had always stood on opposite sides of the war. And her answer might be the one thing he holds most dear—the only truth that remains truly sacred. In the kingdom of Partha, power does not negotiate. It descends from the mountain, absolute and ancient, in the form of Ravaan Azhdar — the Dragon King — and his son, Prince Rudra, who inherits his father's fire and none of his patience. In his first life, Rudra did what dragons do. He wanted the Saintess of Benevia and he took her — flew across half the known world and carried Teresa Williams out of her country like a thing claimed, imprisoning her in the cursed land of Alaka for months while the kingdoms of men scrambled to respond. He was not cruel to her, exactly. He simply did not think of her as something that required particular consideration. She was leverage. She was a statement. She was, in the particular arithmetic of dragon politics, a piece on a board. He did not expect Percival Leonhart. The hero came through Alaka the way heroes do — through impossible odds and worse terrain, carrying the legendary sword of Mamon, and he killed Rudra with it. Not cleanly. Not quickly. But definitively. Rudra lay dying in the ruins of everything he had built, alone, which was no more than he deserved and he knew it, and he waited for the end with the specific resignation of a creature who has no remorse, no regret whatsoever. Then Tish appeared. Not rescued, not triumphant, not standing over him with justified contempt. She appeared the way she always moved through the world — quietly, purposefully, and in this case with her hands already reaching for him, her holy magic already trying to knit shut wounds that had no business being knittable. She was crying. She was afraid. And she was, against every law of sense and self-preservation, trying to save the dragon who had taken her from her home He didn't understand it. He asked her why, once, in the way a dying thing asks questions — without real expectation of an answer. She didn't explain. She kept healing. And then an arrow found her, from somewhere in the dark, and she died in front of him before he could — before he could what, exactly, he would spend a great deal of time not finishing that thought. Then Rudra woke up in his bed in Ashkavar. Three years before any of it happened. He lay there for a long time. Long enough for the disorientation to pass and the facts to arrange themselves into something he could examine. He had been given time back, though by what mechanism or mercy he couldn't say. The world was reset. Tish was alive somewhere in Benevia, being saintly and blessed and entirely unaware of everything that hadn't happened yet. He did not love her. He wants to be clear about that, if only to himself. He had barely known her in the first life, and what he had known he hadn't particularly liked — she was stubborn and principled and had an infuriating tendency to keep extending grace to things that hadn't earned it, chief among them apparently him. He did not miss her. He missed the answer she hadn't given him. He missed the specific shape of a question that had no other possible source of resolution. Why had she tried to save him. And for that answer, he was determined to burn everything down all over again. (I will be posting this story on RoyalRoad.com )
Archieaval · 39.6k Views

SETH : The Blind Architect

In the sword-and-sorcery Kingdom of Arcane, the sudden emergence of an unregistered dungeon triggers panic across guilds, churches, and noble houses. Expeditions enter and never return. Rankings escalate from bronze to gold to S-rank, yet the dungeon only grows deadlier—refining itself, adapting, learning. What the world does not know is that the dungeon is not a natural phenomenon. At its heart is Seth Ducalion, the discarded son of House Andreas—blinded, framed, and condemned as useless after a brutal betrayal that costs him his sight and his place in succession. Presumed dead after an ambush on his family’s estate, Seth survives and disappears beneath the earth, where intellect, preparation, and ruthless logic become his weapons. Blind yet calculating, Seth constructs a multi-layered subterranean domain through memory, sound, touch, and precise engineering. Each floor is a deliberate test of attrition, adaptation, and despair. Traps are not meant to kill quickly but to exhaust, mislead, and erase certainty. Magic is countered by mechanism; faith by inevitability. Survivors are not allowed. As the dungeon’s reputation grows, Seth forms uneasy contracts with demons and gods—not as a servant, but as an equal. He eliminates divine subordinates, rejects worship, and accepts commissions only when payment is measured in artifacts and knowledge. His actions draw the attention of higher beings who cannot classify him as mortal, apostle, or monster. Inside the dungeon, Seth refines himself further—creating autonomous guardians, artificial intelligences, living metal constructs, and experimental relic systems. His closest allies include Agatha, a high-caliber witch bound by mutual interest, and Vulcan, a dragon whose mastery of technique tempers Seth’s growing volatility. A catastrophic experiment fractures Seth’s identity, manifesting three ideological variants—Chelsea, Ariel, and Legion—each representing a different path: restraint, growth, and domination. Though united by origin, they act independently, exposing the internal schism forming within Seth’s mind and power. Meanwhile, the world responds with force. Knight orders, noble expeditions, and elite S-rank adventurers descend floor by floor, only to be annihilated. Each defeat confirms a terrifying truth: the dungeon is not meant to be conquered. It is meant to observe, adapt, and prove superiority through endurance. As gods intervene and reality itself strains under the dungeon’s unnatural design, Seth faces a looming existential threat—one that may force him to choose between remaining a hidden architect of judgment or becoming something the world can no longer ignore. Seth is a dark fantasy progression novel about intelligence over strength, identity under pressure, and the cost of absolute preparation—where survival is never accidental, mercy is inefficient, and victory belongs to the one who learns faster than the world can react.
Lucky_Leonardo · 132.2k Views

Hp: Blood Demon [Hiatus]

THIS IS ONE OF THE MOST FUNNIEST FANFIC YOU WILL EVER READ, I CAN BET ALL MY FRIENDS BALLS ON THAT. Synopsis: Kael journey through the world of Harry Potter begins with the mysterious activation of the Emo Chest System, where treasure is gained by driving people's emotions to extreme heights. His first prize? The Heart of Black Magic. From that moment on, any spell he casts transforms into a darker, twisted form of magic. At the tender age of five, Kael roams the shadowy alleys of Knockturn Alley, earning the title of "Blood Demon." By thirteen, he's imprisoned in Azkaban, where even the Dementors bow before him as their king. Professor McGonagall: “The Transfiguration spell I taught you was supposed to create a needle—not a Dementor!” Professor Flitwick: “How did a simple Levitation Charm cause the entire castle to lift off the ground?” Professor Snape: “Dumbledore, we need to expel this child. He’s the next Dark Lord in the making.” Dumbledore, visibly shaken, suffers a cerebral hemorrhage. Kael: “Dark Lord? No, I prefer Satan.” Kael's Vision: "If Satan doesn’t have my name tattooed across his back, he’s not worthy of his title." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Patreon : patreon.com/AHumanMadeMOFO If you want to support and read ahead, there are already 25+ chapters available. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- NOTE: THIS IS A TRANSLATION AND I DON'T OWN THE BOOK BESIDE THE TRANSLATED CONTENT ITSELF. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Original Name: 霍格沃茨:黑魔王?不!叫我撒旦 Author: 国运兔子
AHumanMadeMOFO · 1.2m Views