Evolving Infinitely From An E-Class Hero - Chapter 22: White Vortex III

Monsters, both human and beast, surrounded him. He needed power to survive this new world... but he arrived as a mortal.One moment William was at work. The next, he was captured by lunatics.He had never believed in the fantastical, but he had no choice after finding himself in another world surrounded by demonic cultivators trying to extract his soul. If he couldn't find an escape, his journey would end just as abruptly as it started.William was inches from death when a benevolent cultivator saved him from that fate. Seeing his pitiful state, the cultivator decided to give him an opportunity in the form of a tool: A system to guide him on the path of cultivation.William would use it to claw his way to the peak of the cultivation world.

“I have to squander; otherwise, won’t it be a waste of my parent’s talent at earning money?” Hong Dali answers a reporter’s question matter-of-factly.

Just after the interview ends, Hong Dali opens the Great Prodigal System’s interface and looks at the various good stuff displayed in it. Stroking his chin, he mumbles to himself, “I just need to squander 200 billion yuan more to exchange for the blueprint of the core technology, Engine Destruction, found in the strongest humanoid mecha weapon, Neo Granzon. Looks like I’ll have to work harder!”

“I want to splurge! I want to squander!”

The narrative follows a gamer who, after selecting the “Awakened Cinder” class in the game Fractured Dawn, finds himself transported into the game's world. However, this version of the game is devoid of its usual interfaces—no UI, no tutorials, and no second chances. Each death strips away a part of his memories and identity, immersing him deeper into a perilous reality.The protagonist, now known as Riven, must navigate the treacherous Witherlands, confronting formidable foes like the Gravemare and Dreamborn Horrors, while uncovering the mysteries of Emberlight, Grace, and Cindershrines. His journey is one of survival, self-discovery, and challenging the very fabric of this fractured world.

[COMPLETE] Can a royal Romeo and Juliet find their happy ending?

Ayleth, Princess of Zenithra, is secretly trained in hand-to-hand combat, and collects swear words she doesn't know how to use. During the Festival of Peace, in which every royal son on the continent will be at the castle for a month, she is instructed by her parents to find a husband. Yet, Ayleth has never even been kissed—until the very first ball, when she meets the man in the Lion mask.

Etan is a seasoned warrior, and the Prince of Summitras. He attends the Festival hoping to find a powerful wife who will help him conquer the dark sorcery of their bloodsworn enemies, the Kingdom of Zenithra. But at the very first ball, he discovers the masked woman who captures his heart is the Heir to the evil empire.

Ayleth and Etan face an impossible battle. Will their love survive? Or will their parents' dark dealings keep them apart forever?

[Mature content. No sexual violence.]

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“You…” She stepped back. Then back again, her mouth dropped open. “You… You cannot be…”

“I am,” Etan said, and his hair raked back as he pushed his mask off his handsome face. So handsome her heart raced.

His hair was ebony black, his skin a warm brown that threatened to fade in in the winter months. He stared at her with glittering green eyes, over high cheekbones and a noble nose, his jaw tight and shadowed this late in the day. His chin was high over the pillar of his neck that she’d just touched with its hard lines and steel strength, so different to her own. And his chest... She gasped and covered her eyes. She’d humiliated herself revealing her stupid, childish curiosity.

“No, Ayleth. This changes nothing.”

“How can you say that? It changes everything!” She was horrified to realize she was crying.

“Ayleth, please.” His voice cracked on the plea and she stared at him, shoving her mask up and off, despite how it would pull her hair out of the beautiful twist the maid had managed for her.

His eyes locked on hers and she couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe.

She had met her One. And he was the son of her bloodsworn enemy.

She stared at him as he stepped forward again, offering both hands, palm up. “Touch me,” he whispered. “Hold my hands. This is real, Ayleth. I don’t know how it happened, but this is real. Please don’t deny it.”

She couldn’t resist. She raised a trembling hand to his cheek, letting her palm catch on the scruff of his jaw. He blew out a breath and put his hand over hers, and that jolt that happened whenever they touched shivered through her again.

“Please, Ayleth.”

“I cannot deny it,” she whispered.