Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai - Chapter 50

The Non-Human Society is a shell of its former self. Its members are scattered and in hiding, and few if any have the will to fight any longer.Joining the Society, Renn has a single goal. To no longer be alone. Yet her membership comes at a price.Renn joins Vim, the Societies Protector, in hopes of preserving the last chance she has at finding a home and a place to belong.What to expect?- An immersive world-building and character focused story!- A typical, but fleshed out, low-fantasy world. Regrettably, the only numbers that go up here are the chapter and word counts...! And my debt, but let's not talk about that.- A more down to earth, sometimes somber story. But there is hope!- A huge world to get lost in. Lots of content. Over 1M words written already!- Side-Stories! Now released once a month.- A tiny sliver of my heart... forever yours!

In a fantasy world where martial artists can split mountains and creeks with a wave of their hand and break rivers with a kick, there exists a little restaurant like this.

The restaurant isn’t large, but it is a place where countless apex existences will rush into.

There, you can taste egg-fried rice made from phoenix eggs and dragon blood rice.

There, you can drink strong wine brewed from vermillion fruit and water from the fountain of life.

There, you can taste the barbecued meat of a ninth grade supreme beast sprinkled with black pepper.

What? You want to abduct the chef? That’s not going to happen, because there’s a divine beast of unfathomable level, the Hellhound, lying at the entrance.

Oh, that chef also has a robotic assistant that killed a ninth grade supreme being with a single hand and a group of crazy women whose stomachs were conquered.

This is a story that follows the courtship between a stone from Hell and a god from Heaven that begins in the underworld and spans for three lifetimes in the mortal realm.

Epic fantasy presence: Ashes Of The First Tyrant [AOTFT]Prologue – The Law of AuraThey say every soul burns.Some flare brightly and fade. Others smolder quietly for a lifetime.But a rare few, rare beyond reason ignite with such intensity that the world bends to them. These are not gods. Not yet.These are the Tyrants.And their aura is not a gift.It is a weight a burden.In this world, aura is everything.It is the breath behind a sword strike, the pressure behind a command, the silent will that can crush or inspire. Most are born with it. Few master it.But only one…only one in an ageawakens the Tyrant’s Spirit…the aura that dominates not by force, but by presence alone.