Conqueror From A Dying Kingdom の小説・ストーリー

My heart was pounding as I said "You can't ruin everything I've worked hard for and you don’t get to destroy everything I’ve fought for. You made your decision, Darian. But I'll stop you. You won't win.” He pulled back, his gaze becoming smaller. "It's too late to end it." The kingdom is already lost. “The rebels will reclaim what’s theirs. And I’ll be the one leading them.” I couldn’t even reply, I heard soldiers rushing in already. Darian’s men. My heart just sank and he planned all of this. He has already planned this all along. You’ve already lost,” Darian whispered, his voice barely audible over the battle cries around us. The Lycan King reign is finished.

At the blood pouring from him. "You were like a son to me" he whispered. "And you murdered my mother" Asher replied. "We are done." He pulled the blade free. Kael collapsed. Blood spreading beneath him. His pale eyes found mine. Still full of hate. Even dying. "This is not over" he whispered. "Gabriel still has an army. The kingdom is still burning. You have won nothing." "We won you" I said. "That is enough for today." His eyes went empty. The light faded. Kael. The man who had manipulated kingdoms. Who had murdered queens. Who had nearly destroyed everything.

“Back in your great-great-great grandfather’s rule, there was no galactic peace. Each of the kings wanted full intergalactic control, and to be considered the supreme ruler. The galaxies fought amongst each other for that control, but none of them had the power nor forces to acquire the great feat. This battle went on for many millennia, and bled into your great-great-grandfather, King Dominic’s, rule. One night, he had a visit from the goddess Aliyah. No other king in history could ever brag about a visit from the greatest celestial being. He asked her for the power to conquer the other galaxies to become the supreme king. She refused to grant him that request, but did give him a promise. S

He came as a simple scholar in search of knowledge. He was welcomed by the hospitable people of Loveland and he continued living undisturbed until trouble came to Loveland: the king of Reaplake kingdom declared war on Loveland. The war was brutal; within 3 months, twenty thousand men had died fighting and the odds were not in the favour of Loveland kingdom. Losing was not an option and surrendering would be worse. The only thing that could stop the war was the defeat of Reaplake or the total annihilation of Loveland.

Year 801, Day 48. Map on the table. 7 Kingdoms. 6 white. 1 black. Bone Kingdom. 49% white, 51% black. The only place that voted to keep Command. Not because they loved it. Because they were afraid to stop. Its King, Kargoth Bone, 60 years old. Never lost a war. Never asked a question. His order that morning, shouted to his 20,000: “Obsidian lies. Asking is weakness.

He wanted Morrison to suffer; he wanted Gunther to suffer, to make them feel the same pain they had inflicted on others and had made him feel once. Who needs a damn single kingdom when you can conquer it all? Maybe the rogue king had been stripped of his lands, his pack, his rights, and his family, but he had other things no one could take away: his bravery, strength, and loyal servants who would give their lives without thought. And what more could he want? Just one thing was missing, and he would not stop until he was victorious over his new quest.

Zerathos' pov They think they’ve won. How foolish. War doesn't end when someone retreats. Not for those who breathe war. They thought my vanishing act was surrender. That my army fading with me was a sign of loss. But they misunderstood the game entirely. You don’t conquer a kingdom by brute force alone—you break its spirit, fracture its foundation, and wait for the cracks to show and watch everything crumble as they scramble to save what is beyond repair.

He clutched the drives to his chest, his knuckles white. "Stay back," he rasped, his voice barely rising above a whisper. A figure emerged from the smoke-filled doorway, silhouette framed by the flickering emergency lights. It was Vane, a scavenger leader who had spent the last decade tearing the city’s scraps from the fingers of the desperate. Behind him, a dozen armed survivors pushed forward, their eyes wild with hunger and the promise of power. "The core," Vane said, his voice a gravelly rasp of ambition. "We saw the light go out, Nikos. We know the power is dead. Give us the drives. We can restore the grid. We can rule what’s left."

Callum shook his head, he had a sad smile. “I’m no king anymore, Ryk.” He said. “Moonclaw’s gone.” He added. “The elders are dead, the town’s in ashes.” He whispered. “I failed them.” He added. “I failed Keira.” He added. “If my death spares even one life, it’s worth it.” He whispered. Ryk slammed the cup down, tea pouring over the edge, his voice getting louder. “You’re not thinking straight.” She said, “Lord Conoron won’t honor a deal, he will kill you and keep slaughtering.” He added.

Wolves howled in answer. That night in the destroyed eastern wing she stood at the balcony. City burning in celebration below. Kael pressed against her back. Already hard again. Already inside her. Slow lazy thrusts while they looked out over the kingdom they had bled for. “I feel it growing.” She gasped between thrusts. “The power. It wants more than this kingdom.” Kael bit her shoulder. Thrust deeper. “Then we give it more. Everything. All of it.” Lyra smiled into the night. Silver eyes glowing. Body full of her king. Heart full of beautiful violence. The rejected girl was dead. The Lunar Queen had risen. And the world had only begun to bleed.