Butcher Demon - Chapter 206

Mathew survived the entire two weeks of the apocalypse. A great score for someone blessed with brains over the brawn. Yet, even he fell after just fourteen days, giving his all to save the one person he cared for.

But why does a death looks like watching himself from the third person perspective? Is this the purgatory to watch over his own shoulders at the mistakes he made? A punishment for Mathew's sins to repeat those mistakes over and over again?

But wait, what are the three clocks in the corner of his vision, one of which only five minutes away from ticking out?

Driven by his need for revenge, Lazarus, the Lore’s most ruthless vampire, plots to seize the throne of Wilyra and rule it along with his betrothed, the fae goddess Maeve who thrives in a borrowed body.

Lazarus has a perfect plan—until he finds Emmalyn, a young mortal who is the daughter of the rebel leader of blood vassals in his kingdom and an integral part of his plan. He captures the young girl to cast her soul out for Maeve.

Emmalyn yearns for a better life to escape from her stepmother and an indifferent father. She never imagined that they would sell her to the royals to save her brother’s life.

But there’s only one problem. Emmalyn tempts Lazarus beyond reason. As the time to cast her soul out draws closer, he must choose between his lust for the throne or his irresistible mortal.

Will Lazarus succumb to lust for power and crown? Or will he risk it all to have a future with her?

I had finally done it—achieved the ultimate Paladin build. Maxed stats, impenetrable armor, and so many resistances that death itself had given up on me. I was an unkillable tank, an indomitable force. Nothing could stop me.And then my PC exploded.I died.Irony, thou art a cruel mistress.But instead of the afterlife, I woke up as my Paladin character… in the wrong freaking genre. Instead of castles and dungeons, there were people flying around on swords, shooting qi beams like fantasy laser guns.“This is definitely the wrong genre,” I muttered, watching a pompous young master sneer at me.“Kowtow, kiss my foot, and beg for forgiveness!” he declared.I looked at my imaginary maxed-out health bar, then at his flimsy silk robes.Oh, this was going to be fun.

Mr. Tycoon Is Actually the Father of My Child!