Merciless King Novels & Stories

" a human, out of all the the creatures in the universe, faith grants you the one you hate the most this is just too much" laughed the king " this is not funny father" " oh but it is. My poor son" Eric didn't respond. He let the king have his fair share of amusement. It was a rare case he saw the side of his father. The demon king was known to be the most ruthless, cruel and heartless being ever to exist. He could wipe out a whole town, country or even the whole of the demon realm if he so wished. You could guess where the prince got his coldness from

MEETING FOR THE FIRST TIME. "I see something more beautiful than the stars in her smile. It’s like catching a glimpse of heaven. I can’t take my gaze away from her, and I know I’m in love with her. I know in my heart that she will be mine." King Miller is the Lycan king who despises werewolves and wishes to have nothing to do with them. He is a man-whore who sleeps with anything under the dress. He rules his realm with stringent regulations. He has no empathy for anyone and would go to any length to obtain what he desires. He is a tyrant who will go to any length to keep his control over his kingdom. His nasty and brutal character has instilled terror in his subjects. He is well known all ov

“Look at you, little sun. All cleaned up and shining. That pale skin… those full tits heaving… and that smooth cunt, begging for a real cock.” Milana lifted her head, tears drying to tracks on her cheeks, but her blue eyes flashed fire. “Untie me, you brute. I’ll gouge your eyes out.” Gorak chuckled, kneeling at her side. He was intelligent, this king, not just a savage warlord, but a strategist who’d built an empire. “Oh, I think not. You’re feisty, princess. I like that. Makes breaking you all the sweeter.” He trailed a thick finger down her cheek, wiping away a tear. “But I see more than fight in those eyes. Curiosity. Heat.”

He pointed his small, blood-stained finger at the four remaining Council elites. "Tear them apart. Leave nothing but the metal. You do that, and the elk is yours. And when you're done eating... I will open the inner gates. You will sleep where the air is warm, and you will never bleed in the snow again. That is the King's Mercy." The silence held for exactly one second. Then, the massive brute roared. It wasn't a howl of submission. It was the horrific, guttural shriek of a predator that had just been handed permission to kill.

"And Aris—or Daphne—don't wait for the next summit to show your hand. The world is much more fun when you have the right partner to explore with." I watched him walk away, the night air finally feeling clear. The thieves were in cells, the crown was back on the rightful head, and for the first time in three years, the road ahead wasn't a steep decline with broken brakes. It was wide open.

Nurul Islam stroked Abrar's hair and began: "Once there was a king. His son was very honest. His grandson was even more honest. One day, the uncle came and said, 'I want the throne of the kingdom. If you want to save your grandson's life, you must fight...'" The room grew dim; everyone's eyelids grew heavy. But Arian knew—he would have to stay awake through the night. Because old enemies do not sleep, and they were now running after Abrar.

The problem was that he’d hidden something very valuable, something we couldn’t find on our own, and you know what they say about dead men not telling any tales. The man had taken a secret that cost blood and money to his grave. “We’ll find whoever is responsible for this, and we’ll take them down,” Miron said. “We’ll burn the world if we have to.” Miron was a cruel bastard. He didn’t care that Peter died; he couldn’t give a fuck which one of our men was gutted by our enemies. He only cared that he could use it as an excuse for extreme violence. He was the most sadistic of all four of us, and I liked that about him.

Wolves snarl, swords clash, and the sky itself seems to bleed with the color of war. As I clutch my sword, ready to fight but then I halt on spotting the King. Anita's rogue are causing havoc as usual, but the King is taking them out without even breaking a sweat. As he moves, rogues who lunges towards him are sent spiralling and eventually dropping dead. He's like a death flame, come close and you'll immediately meet your end. Our soldiers flee away from his path, afraid to get caught up in his wrath. Most of the rogues realizing the King's merciless power, try to run but Micheal and our soldiers chase them down, slaughtering every one of them.

Verik was here. The vicious king who had no remorse and cut a man's head off with no mercy—no, Myra could recount how he was excited when he did it. He was a bloodthirsty tyrant. Myra could still recall the mad look of exhilaration in his gaze when blood spilled on the tent carpet and Alaric’s head rolled. Their laughter still haunts Myra as Reilania’s broken face pops in her mind and her heart squeezes. Myra finds her heart jumping from Draven’s growl.

Again. Eros looked deeply unimpressed. “Persistent little pests.” “One day I’d love to go somewhere people aren’t trying to kill me.” “You attract trouble.” “That feels unfair.” “It’s accurate.” The mercenaries spread slowly around the clearing, weapons drawn. One of them laughed beneath his hood. “Interesting. The king protects her himself now.” Eros barely looked at him. “You should leave while you still can.” The mercenary smiled wider. “You sound worried.” “I sound irritated.”