Lit-RPG Novels & Stories

The sensual pulse grew stronger and he steeled himself against the weakness in his knees. Righ sighed. “It will be so good to see my relic again.” His eyes switched between Blake and Clarissa for a moment. “And to hold you, my dear.” Blake growled and reached instinctively for his sword, which brought a pleased look to Righ’s face. “Enjoy your dinner tonight.” His eyes moved to the monks behind her. “Treat my relic well. I shall return to you, soon. Clarissa is the final key to my resurrection.” The mirror flickered and went black before returning to its original reflective glass. Her throbbing magic got stronger, causing him to gasp in delight. His head spun and his knees shook.

She focused, weaving the energy into a barrier around her, a dome of shimmering silver that rippled with power. The Rift King laughed, a low, bone-shaking sound. “You think light can stop me? I am the fracture in all realms, the shadow in every heart, the end of every Veil.” Lyra gritted her teeth. “Then I’ll be the light that ends you.” She stepped forward, extending her hands. Golden threads of energy burst outward, colliding with the Rift King’s shadow pulse. Sparks of red and gold danced violently across the chamber as their powers clashed. The walls trembled, fragments of crystal cracking under the pressure.

Susan 's POV: Startled by the vivid dream, I'm abruptly jolted awake. The dampness between my legs serves as a tangible reminder of how my body responds to these forbidden fantasies. I can't shake his face from my mind—those captivating eyes, those lips that brought both pleasures and torment to my senses. "This is sheer madness," I whisper in despair, seeking solace in reciting the Lord's prayer. Waking up repeatedly due to these haunting dreams has become exhausting, and I long for a reprieve.

My foot I say to all those foolish uncultured creatures. But back to the plan... I know exactly what I'm going to do, little miss perfect aren't going to be so perfect after I'm done with her. She will be equivalent to Lilly's disfigured paintings. With a dark grin spreading on her lips, one similar to the grin the devil himself would be spotted in. The chills that run down one's spine after witnessing it would certainly crawl down your spine like a lone drop of water running down one's exposed back. •●•

The Lorths' magic was distinct in that it required them to tear a page from a book and repeat the incantation in order for it to work. Only beginners had to bring their scriptures to a fight, according to Nelanian. Yulcite mages who had mastered Religion magic had mastered their scriptures and did not need to carry them to a fight. The quality of a Lorth's grimoire, on the other hand, may be used to rank them. Grimoires with soft covers showed that the mage was still a novice, while those with finer covers, such as leather or embellished covers with gems and gold, showed that the magician was at a higher level. When Nelanian saw the brilliant ruby on the grimoire's cover, he knew he couldn't

He thought he was quite intelligent. "I'm afraid I don't follow." He said as she went back to the front desk. "Lily's book is based on the role-playing game Dungeons and Dragons." Her eyes sparkled again. "Just like so many others, she's given us a world to escape to. A heroine tasked to kill a dark sorcerer when, in reality..." the woman stopped, "I can't spoil it for you! You'll just have to read it." She said as she rang him up. Was this how everyone reacted to Lily's book?

He pulled out, cock shiny with spit, and stalked to the door naked. Lydia scrambled up, grabbing a robe from a chair, her heart racing. Through the window, she saw shadows—three figures in cloaks, chanting low. Witch hunters, drawn by the magic burst. Ragnar burst out the door with a roar, claws out. The fight was brutal. He slashed one across the chest, blood spraying. Another threw a spell, blue light hitting his side, burning fur. He howled in pain, tackling the guy, fangs ripping throat. The third ran a knife at his back, but Lydia—bond fueling her—leaped out, her fangs bared. She bit the hunter's neck, sucking deep, his blood hot and coppery. Strength surged deep inside; the bond made h

This unlikely alliance, forged in the wake of a devastating battle, held the potential for victory. The journey to the Dragon’s Teeth was fraught with peril. The Night Howlers’ knowledge of the terrain proved invaluable, guiding them through hidden passages and treacherous landscapes. Ronan’s swordsmanship and Lyra’s earth magic protected them from the numerous dangers they encountered – monstrous mountain trolls, mischievous sprites, and even the ghosts of ancient warriors who guarded the mountain’s secrets.

The scene which took place in my dreams was modelled after the one that I saw when I was in my weird trance state, the ceremony and ritual for my ascension as a commander of the Northshore legion. The grassy plains, bathed with a golden light with no sun present, the grasses and scanty trees this time around were green and not the dried up, barely surviving plants I saw last time. “Hello?” I asked softly. “Who am I seeing this time?” “Hello?”

Helga intoned, her voice like wind cutting through bone, “Bound by blood, sealed by fear, do you come of your own will?” “I do,” I whispered, but my voice cracked. I swallowed, harder this time. “I do.” She opened her eyes then. Pale, almost silver in the firelight. She saw through me. “Once unbound, your wolf will wake. She will rise and she may not be kind.” I nodded, because I couldn’t trust myself to speak again.