Emperor Of Mankind True Form Novels & Stories

Was he not the child born of the power of Gini? Eric’s emerald green eyes averted to the man with a brown bushy mustache, who sat beside him. The man was laughing with some Drudge girl that danced on his laps. He didn’t know the man’s name. Names were forbidden in the Emperor’s court. It makes men become too informal, and informality was a disease that a strong empire should avoid. His father had said when asked why. Well, maybe that’s not everything there is to it. Emperor Ganto has a way of trying to hide things behind the other side of the curtain, but he always forgets that the wind blows sometimes, and when it blows, even the anus of a chicken could be seen. “That’s it, my dear. That’s

He jabbed the barrel of the gun into the man's neck and said, "You're not man enough to rob me." I watched in shock as Adrian continued to unleash his anger on the man. It was like watching a different person, a side of him that I had never seen before. I had always known that he was strong, but this display of brute force was something else entirely. Adrian leaned in closer, his voice low and menacing. "You don't know who you're dealing with," he growled. "I could end you right here and now, and no one would even notice you were gone. No one would care. You're nothing"

But to have lived like this, to have felt alone, for the last ten years as he helmed his empire, drinking a vanishing vintage of wine and eating caviar off a gold bar and feeling alone all the time… It was an incredibly depressing thought. “Miss Cannon,” he said suddenly, and she realized his mind had been in an entirely different place. “Raven. I can promise you, on my word, you will be safe with me. Tell me what is happening, and I will make sure nothing like that ever happens to you again.” Now she could see what he had been fighting so hard not to show: it was softness. Something not quite fear and not quite loss but… Was that tenderness? Genuine tenderness?

"I thought you said the Emperor did not want to be disturbed?" Inal asked stepping back out of the dark room. "The emperor has gone on a stroll and asked that if anyone comes looking for him I should tell them that he doesn't want to be disturbed," Tiartu said. "Mother, I am glad to have found you here, "Aranar Enlim said. Aranar Enlim was the crown prince and he was just nine years of age. He had been looking around for his mom for a while.

Silver water glints beneath the sun. Beauty. A weakness most rulers cling to. I do not care for beauty. Its rivers, its fields, its homes all irrelevant. I care only for control. Land is valuable only when it kneels. People are valuable only when they obey. Everything bends eventually. Everything kneels. Fear and power are my instruments. Patience is my weapon. I sit atop my black stallion, the beast restless beneath me, muscles tense with contained strength. His breath rises in slow bursts against the cool air. He senses what waits ahead.

"I have found that thing. The one who was kind to me when I had no kindness, the one who saved my life when all seemed lost… she will be my Empress." A heavy quiet fell in the room. Lord Valerius’s eyebrows went up a little, a hint of surprise in his usually calm face. General Thorne stayed still, his trained mind probably already figuring out the political effects, how people might react. "Your Majesty?" Lord Valerius finally asked, his tone careful. "An Empress? Forgive me, Sire, but who is this… person? We thought you were rescued by a regular person, someone living alone in the woods."

"They aren't cheering. They’re begging not to be noticed." "That’s the secret to a long life in the Empire," Tristan murmured, his eyes fixed on the massive stage rising in the center of the plaza. "Don't be the nail. Don't be the hammer. Be the wood." The stage was a monument to excess. Drape in crimson velvet, it supported a dais where the Imperial family sat. The Emperor was there. His exoskeleton had been repaired, gleaming with fresh gold plating, though his organic face looked more withered than ever, like a dried apple left in the sun.

Raeleigh Campbell POV My head resting against the bathtub, my eyes closed trying to soak my aching body. Being onstage for two hours takes years off your life, my body feels worse than when I’m working out. Which is another thing I hate doing. Working out is a form of torture created to punish us because Adam and Eve ate the forbidden apple. Just like how women are punished monthly for that very apple. But that’s a complaint for another day.

Because for the first time, time itself was in my hands. I no longer wanted to stand behind someone, playing the obedient Donna. I wanted to become the one who writes the rules of this world. Under the moonlight, I opened my hand, then slowly curled my fingers into a fist. If I needed practice… Then the first target would naturally be the man who once treated me like something that could never leave him. Vincent Russo.