Realm Conquest Book Novels & Stories

"You fight systems to rise. I built them to rule. Why resist?" Sake burned silk fire down my throat, loosening the knot his proximity always tied. "Because your empire's built on engineered ruins—scandals, leaks, blood like Rourke's neck. I'm no pawn for your Tokyo games." He leaned closer, scarred jaw inches from mine, heat radiating no touch—torture exquisite. "Pawn? No. Queen." Obsidian eyes bored soul-deep, half-smirk curving lethal. "I fell first, Nia. Two years past—your TED talk. 'Crisis as Catalyst.' Dissected corporate lies like a surgeon and hacked your life that night. Runs mapped, strategies stolen, Darius's files unearthed. Obsessed. Dangerous minds recognize their match."

He bowed and was gone as quickly as he arrived, leaving the heavy satchel behind. I lunged for the bag the moment the tent flap sealed. I untied the cord with shaking fingers and pulled out the book. It wasn't ancient and brittle. It was a modern reprint, but the cover read: Healers' Lore: The Legacy of the Wounded Crown. It was a medical text, disguised as a historical relic.

For the right woman. Boomer stepped quietly to my side. His expression had changed. The smile he’d worn moments ago was gone. “My King.” I looked up. “What is it?” “Our scouts just reported movement along Ralph’s borders.” The warmth in the room disappeared. “They’re mobilizing.” I glanced toward Serena as she laughed softly through tears while holding her sons. Then back to Boomer. “So…” I rose slowly from my chair. “It begins.”

She dropped her bag to the floor and pulled out a stack of worn books, their covers frayed and stitched by hand. “But we didn’t come back empty-handed,” she said quickly, kneeling in front of me. “Look at these.” She placed them in my hands one after another. The pages were yellowed, the edges rough, filled with cramped handwriting and strange symbols. Some were notes on powerful witches from centuries ago. Others were diagrams of spell circles I had never seen before. There were markings about rare bloodlines, abilities that appeared only once in a generation, and rituals that felt both brilliant and dangerous.

Did she think stealing my path from my last life meant she would get a good ending in this one? In this life, I would let her experience firsthand what it really meant to live in hell. The Whites' estate was even more grand than I remembered. In my last life, after Mona married into the Whites, she had smugly bragged to me about how luxurious this place was. Back then, I was drowning in the company's cash flow crisis and didn't have the energy to care about her showing off. Now that I was standing here myself, I realized her descriptions hadn't even covered a sliver of it.

"See to it that every herb and tonic the healer ordered is sourced from the Vaughn territories if necessary. I want the best." Jonah Price, the Steele informant who usually moved like a shadow, placed Sierra’s leather satchel on the table. "Understood, Alpha." As Jonah slipped out, the sudden trill of a communication crystal echoed from Sierra’s bag. Cameron’s brow darkened. He reached into the bag and pulled out the glowing stone. The rune shimmering on the surface read: Claudie. Who in the Northlands is Claudie? Cameron wondered, his wolf pacing beneath his skin. He swiped the rune to answer.

My trembling hands pushed away the curtain, and the blinding morning light made me squint, but I struggled to keep them open to take on the grand sight outside this carriage. Towering ivory walls reaching up to fifty meters, seemingly reaching for the horizons, and a luxurious blackwood double-door gate embossed with a ruby-eyed ebony wolf howling to the heavens highlighted by golden lines, as if the giant black wolf with blood-red eyes is ready to leap out of the gate and massacre its enemies. The entrance to the core power territory of the Rogue kingdom exudes a terrifying momentum of bloodshed and carnage. It perfectly fits the image of the Rogue werewolf race that I have learned and hear

The servants simply unlocked the doors if they happened to find them closed, bowed, and disappeared again. Except my actual research project here was a total bust. I still hadn’t found a single mention of realm interlopers. Apparently, the North had meticulously documented eight hundred years of livestock taxation, seventeen separate border disputes over whose goats had wandered onto whose mountain, and the complete bloodlines of every Great Pack Alpha since the founding of the kingdom… but not one helpful chapter titled *So You’ve Accidentally Fallen Into Another Dimension*. Typical. Every afternoon I’d slide a heavy ledger back into its slot, dust off my hands, and sigh. Still. Only ninety

General Finn put down a book he was holding and walked over to where the king was seated. “Let the men go rest, we shall begin from there…” he was interrupted. “I went, duplicated the scroll of the clash of the battle empires, I made sure it was handed to him by the queen. Guess what happened.” he paused to see the shock on the men’s faces. “My, prince that scroll is as dangerous as a firing in the dry season. Bolivia could be burnt down.” Alpha George stood akimbo, “Tell me, he did not read it...” general Edward Thornfield asked, his hands on his mouth.

Albeit, slowly, it didn’t even make a single sound. My mind instantly trailed back to the book I had previously read in the pack library. ‘There are 4 Reavers that rule the Underworld.’ Raphael was one of the names in the book. I was snapped from my thoughts when I looked up and found myself face to face with an eerily gorgeous man.