Quote:The RADAR screen was filled with contacts, nearly a hundred hostile contacts all flashing with their approximate names. The flashes of round and missiles barely caught by the sensors only distorted things further, all flying forwards straight towards the United Nations combined fleet.
It was far too sudden it all. The enemy had stayed out of earth orbit for the entirety of the war but now? Now, with their fronts collapsing they had seemingly decided to play all their remaining cards in one final push.
Captain Edward’s heart could not stop pounding, as the flank of that mass of ships was what Admiral Makarov’s fleet was flying straight into, and he was apart of it. He could not calm himself at all, with all the shouts and yells flying around the CIC. Navigation was getting ready for evasive action, gunnery was desperately trying to get a clear lock on for their missiles, Communication was trying the best they could to communicate with the rest of the fleet with the X-ray signal lamps hastily welded onto the ship to keep complete radio silence. The plan was set.
[font=宋体]"Hey, buddy! Are you interested in becoming an actor?" A voice was heard when a young man in a white short-sleeved shirt and brown trousers, who looked like he was in his twenties, came to the side of the street and was about to open the door to his car.[/font]
[font=宋体]"Hm?" He turned his head, puzzled. The man who appeared before him looked to be around twenty-five to thirty years old. He was dressed in a suit and had a smile on his face, looking like a successful person.[/font]
[font=宋体]"Hello there. I am Frederick Rogers, a manager from The Elite Management Company. You can call me Fred or Frederick." He extended his arm. "Do you like performing?"[/font]
Excerpt from another letter written by baron Markus to His Majesty Louis the XIV, King of all Castondia, twelve years later:
“My Magnificent King, I would like to express my deepest gratitude for the gold and men that The Crown sent me. At the same time, I need to bring to your invaluable attention that the situation in the Zidron mountains has worsened beyond imaginable. The ferocious creatures keep attacking innocent people. They come in day and night alike, making the lives of peasants unbearable. Unfortunately, it is impossible to use soldiers against the foul creatures—men are horrified and have low morale, so I rely only on black monks. They have gathered a vast collection of creatures, learned a lot about them, and can always tell the best way to fight them. In such daring circumstances, may it please Your Benevolent Majesty to provide additional support to your faithful servant?”
Later, he found out it was really just that his father had gotten a couple of tickets for free from one of his coworkers. That ruined the sentiment a bit, but it wasn't really surprising. Thenio knew that his father hated spending money on 'frivolous things.' At that age, he didn't exactly understand why some things were 'frivolous' and some weren't. He just knew that it seemed to include most of his favorite things, like toys and picture books and pastries from the bakery on the next street. And there was never enough money for them because all the money had to go to 'essentials.' That category was also confusing. It contained things that Thenio could recognize as being important, like bread and soap and magic crystals to make the lamps work. But he wasn't sure why it also included things like fancy new curtains for the dining room or an ever-growing collection of cute hats for Lem to wear when they went to the park.
In any case, if the things Thenio liked mostly went into the 'frivolous' category, then it only made sense for the circus to be included there. Because he loved it.
With his final glance at the stage to ensure he’d grabbed all his gear, he climbed down the three steps to the dark, linoleum floor. His black leather pants stuck to his thighs so that it was hard to crouch enough to pack up his shit on the floor, but he looked great in them. Sweat still trickled down his back under his shirt AC/DC shirt, his necklace of the Judas Priest razorblade logo for their British Steel album bouncing off his chest. A few girls tried to catch his eye, but he just wanted out of the stuffy club air. The cool spring night air outside the door ten feet away beckoned. He strode over to his guitar case and crouched down as much as the pants would let him.
Before closing the case, Max took a final look down at “Kat,” the prized electric guitar he’d personally built. He’d crafted the body into the shape of an axe, just like Gene Simmons of Kiss, except that where Gene’s was a bass, Max’s was a six-string electric guitar. Kat was all silver hardware and black paint except for a silver area on the bottom, where it looked like a blade. She was the only guitar he owned and the only one he needed. She was badass. And she meant more to him than he let on.
Quote:The capital of the Izan Imperium, Izan'Larai, was often considered a crowning jewel of commerce, trade, and beauty, beyond compare. It was also rife with people of all races, be they elf, dwarf, or any other, and all walks of life. It was summer, but the land was largely unaffected by the changing of the seasons. Every day, save days when the sea brought cool mists to shore, was a creeping heat from dawn to dusk. During midday, the market was full to bursting, filled to the brim with merchants, craftsmen, and customers. Rare was a desired item missing from the market. Anything one could want, whether it be rare linens, fine alchemical compounds, or even rare beasts from across the world. Anything worth anything could be found here.
The flow of trade by land and sea brought a great deal of wealth to the city. A double-edged sword, as profit always attracted those that prefer brute force or guile to honest trade. Those who preferred the latter were the most common, but it was not for everyone. The trade required speed, a sharp eye, and fast hands, lest theft be cut short, in more ways than one. Life in the Imperium was cruel. No one batted an eye should a guard draw their rusted blade against a criminal. In the eyes of respectable society, they deserved no better than an insect crushed under heel. A thief, in particular, was considered a most egregious parasite. Many felt they were worth only the time required for swift excision of sticky fingers from thieving palms.
Rieta was but one of countless parasites, if more experienced than most. She clung to the shadows of an alcove not far from the center square. Her posture was lax, but guarded. The cloak she wore covered any distinctive features, with a hood pulled down over her face. Her eyes were downcast as she studied the waists of passerby, discerning the value kept in each coin purse.
<> Excerpt from my story, Darkling (link in signature) <>
Satara Cunningham ran home from school, feet heavy, thoughts a colourful mess, and knew she was in big trouble.
An inch closer and the heat from the Rocket Punch would have blistered Jester’s skin.
Flecks of metal from the damaged robot burrowed into his second-hand suit, as The Lovecraftian Knight smashed into the wall.
He expected that from the cheap seats he’d managed to win. The player base called them Headloppers. For obvious reasons. Anyone who could afford tickets to The Copper Coliseum went for the back rows. Apart from the thrill-seekers who currently surrounded him. But they were weirdos anyway. Some even bet on who could get hit by the biggest pieces of metal.
Crowds of human and orc from all parts of Atmos gave a whooping boo to the insult from the Duel Officiator. He stood atop a raised platform in the Duel Arena near the luxurious limestone boxes sparsely filled by the wealthy and influential as he jeered the crowd into an uproar.
“For our first round,” he paused for effect, “we have two newcomers to the Duel in their first official match!” The people cheered loudly, ringing the ears of all in attendance. Amateur duels often ended in death, and nothing was more spectacularly suspenseful than the abyss.
But everything felt real.
So sickeningly, horrifyingly real.
Chisel, whose real name is Jeremy Melchi, is a video anchor and video producer whose game skills are not great. Fortunately, the CCG（Collectible Card Game） Collector's Catalog, which he mainly livestream, doesn't require much skill. As one of the first anchors to discover it, Chisel has gained a certain fame in the circle of the game by attracting some fans with its high frequency updates and long live broadcasts. Therefore, he was recruited by the game company that made CC（Collector's Catalog）, and got some cooperation opportunities.
The company, Magic Classroom, is a little casual about its games. The company could have given CC virtually no publicity until it was available, and given Chisel the opportunity to collaborate when the game was in full bloom instead of another host with more fans and better skills. And all because "Thank you for your continued support of the game".
Collector's Catalog：A LitRPG CCG
Quote:Dry, stale air gently brushed her cheeks as Anne slowly walked down the dark concrete corridor. The dead silence was only disturbed by the soft crackle of dried blood beneath her feet. A small frail boy was closely following her trail.
The boy lifted his head. His dark brown eyes stared blankly from under his muddied fringe. The smallest of smiles flashed across his face.
Quote:Alma found herself soaring high above the world, unable to catch even a glimpse of her own shadow below her. Unafraid, she flew through uncanny skies of some unknown dream realm, beyond where she could no longer gaze upon land or sea. She swam an endless expanse of blushing clouds, where just beyond the limitless horizon, there stood enormous ethereal castles and silent ziggurats with impossible architecture stretching far outside the boundaries of her peripheral vision. Surrounding these structures were countless crystalline spires, the summits of which could not be spied by human eyes for they stretched infinitely into a living cosmos home to millions of stars. A boundless empyrean kissed by the radiant moonbeams of a crumbling lunar body more massive than anything Alma had ever beheld in her meager existence.
It was clear this was no longer the planet Sarracas where she made her home.
Abstract sights blinded her understanding of whatever sphere it was she suddenly found herself in. A myriad of questions floated through her mind.
But for many like Sonja there was nowhere much better to be. Her outstretched hand flailed, deep inside the metal casement of a roadside disposal unit. She could feel the cold blades on the back of her hand as she withdrew, recoiling when a bit of the composting enzyme smeared her skin. It stung a little, breaking down the outer layer into a slimy slick of fat.
Chunks of spoiled food fell through splayed fingers, sharp tired blue eyes inspecting a dissolved mess. She moved onto the next disposal unit, looking around, light auburn hair swaying as she checked for a law enforcement unit behind her.
In my head, the countdown is ticking. Pulsing.
Fucken’ countdowns. Sick of ‘em all.
But then… This will be the last one.
I guess I fucked up one time too many. And this time…
It will be the very last time.
As I take a deep breath, I try to think if that is really it. Not much to think. Really. The system has decided. The powers that reign supreme above us all will not change their minds.
Yeah, this is definite. I better make a peace with it.
Strange… I stood in front of death so many times since this shit started to happen, I realize… it is scary how little I care. Maybe I just had enough of it all. Maybe I’m ready for it all to end.
Beelzebub gasped in astonishment as he stared at his hands.
He had failed. His body had failed him.
‘Are you quitting, son?’ Satan’s deep voice echoed from somewhere.
Ben stood before a small maple tree that sat alone atop its hill. There was nothing especially interesting about the tree at first glance, except that it was the only tree in sight, a solitary expression of life amidst a barren landscape of clashing white glaciers and black volcanic rock. The tree, no matter how mundane its appearance, couldn’t possibly have grown in such an environment if it were just any common maple.
No, this tree was infinitely far from common; it was the only of its kind and almost completely indestructible. It was a tree meant to seal the heavens with its branches and shield Hell with its roots, and it had faithfully carried this responsibility for centuries despite various gods attempting to cut it down throughout the ages. A day is not much to a creature that had lived so long, but this day was different.
This was the most important day of the tree’s life, even more so than when it first pierced the soil and looked towards the sun. This day was the moment that the maple had fulfilled its purpose and was no longer needed, the day that it would finally return to the earth after countless years of service.
Quote:Voices woke the spirit up.
It slowly pulled its intellect together, going from having all the awareness of an earthworm, barely capable of being called sentient, to something capable of understanding language and even remembering bits of its past. Vaguely it recalled why it had buried its intellect, the long years of nothingness would have driven it insane. It was better to rest in dreamless sleep, waking occasionally to explore the region and learn if it was time to return.
How long had it slept? How often had it awakened? The spirit couldn't say, it wasn't important. Only survival and ensuring it stayed sane mattered. After all, what did time matter to the dead?
The light was scarce. Dark was everywhere.
A man opened his eyes for the first time in ages and could see nothing. He was lying on what felt like marble, cold to the touch, and he wondered how long he had lain in near-death? The question bothered him as he stepped off the marble, and one bare foot down onto slippery flagstones.
It would be a simple job, they said. Don't worry, they said. You won't even have to use your magic, they promised. Nothing would go wrong, obviously, and even if it did, he'd have two powerhouse adventurers there to back him up.
That's how Gideon had sold him on taking the job, anyway. "