The Transmigrated Cannon Fodder Overthrows The Male Protagonist Novels & Stories

Cressida’s POV Dorian’s scream tore through the mining camp. His knees struck the frozen ground, and his unbroken hand clutched the wrist Alaric had crushed. The five warriors behind him stood like men who had forgotten how to breathe. Their swords stayed sheathed “You broke my wrist!” he shouted, his face twisting in pain. “How dare you raise that hand against a woman who had done nothing but defend what is hers?!” Alaric’s voice rose sharply, echoing through the camp.

The king is dead. Unfortunately, no one bothered to tell his corpse. When I woke up inside my favorite tragic fantasy novel, I wasn't the heroine. I was Alix de Vaucroix, the queen's younger sister, a minor villain destined to die for witnessing a terrible royal secret. The king had died of smallpox weeks ago. Now his reanimated corpse was wandering the palace, hungry for human flesh. And that was only the beginning. Crown Prince Leofric Hartham was destined to lose everything. Betrayed by those closest to him, branded a traitor for killing his own father, and eventually bitten while saving the very child meant to replace him on the throne. I had cried over his ending when he

"Cripple her." The words left my lips, devoid of heat, devoid of pity. They were a simple, cold fact. "The hand she used to sign my mother's death warrant. The hand she used to call our enemies. Break them. Both." Scarlett's face bleached of all color. "No! Isabella, please! We can make a deal—" POP. The sound was small, almost surgical. Marco's shot was precise. It didn't sever her hand, it shattered the bones within it.

It has since been corrected. That is not a correction. You ruined my life. I raged into the mental void. I'm stuck in an apocalyptic wasteland, married to a military commander who interrogates me every five minutes! I've been shoved around, locked in a cell, nearly executed, and forced to deal with toxic sludge! You are useless. [Statistical analysis indicates your survival rate has increased by 42%.] I'M GOING TO INCREASE YOUR SURVIVAL RATE TO ZERO BY THROWING YOU INTO A VOLCANO!

There was no way she could be a magician, or whatever they called it because first and foremost she was not the real Audrey. She was an impostor for crying out sake!!! A foreign soul... An alien... A transmigrator! A freaking whatever name that people used to call her kinds. [ Don't worry little lass, protagonists of transmigration stories had a way of overcoming such things.] "But that was only good for fictional characters and we are the real deal" [Ohh? Are we??? You can never be so sure about that.] "Oh come on, stop the fourth wall, Nero." While Audrey was busy arguing with the talking cat through their mental l**k, Johnson's voice suddenly cut through her train of thoughts.

She is Alicia the Saint. Elise never thought that she would be transmigrated to the fantasy world. A medieval era composed of aristocrats, magic and divine power. An unfair world full of greed and violent people. Elise was frightened but slowly absorbing the reality. She was old enough but she never experienced this kind of phenomenon. She was just reading the book her cousin gifted to her.... She just read it so her cousin will leave her alone and stop messing with her. She never thought that she would wake up in a new body and in a fictional world! But how the heck does she go here? Did she die after reading the novel? Oh my god! Did she really die? Elise is panicking inside but suppresses

“So, in short, the novel hasn't changed?” [Correct.] Eliana rubbed her forehead. “Wonderful. So I transmigrated into a novel, got the worst Talent in existence, and now I can't even trust the plot!” [Host should focus on leveling up. Higher ranks will improve your chances of survival and allow the System to provide additional assistance.] “Level up, level up, level up! Is that the only thing you know how to say? Why can't you give me a mansion, a private army, and a button that makes every monster disappear?”

His ice-blue eyes flared with fierce, terrifying panic. "What do you mean, erased?" Grim growled, his deep voice trembling with raw desperation. He reached out to take her palms, but as his fingers touched her wrists, his hands passed through her skin as if grasping cold air. "Elodie!" Grim cried out, a sound of profound anguish tearing from his throat. "Do not panic, Grim," Elodie urged calmly. "My transmigrated soul does not belong to the novel code. The universe is enforcing canon logic by purging the outsider."

Cassian continued, his gray eyes locking onto mine with terrifying clarity, “who would pull her off that concrete roof before the city ever had the chance to touch her.” The glass slipped from my fingers. It hit the table with a sharp clatter, water spilling across the dark wood and dripping onto the carpet below. The roof. The concrete under my knees. The cold wind in my hair. The crowd shouting my name like a curse while the executioner raised his gun. I had never told a single soul about that opening scene. I had not mentioned the Parker Tower rooftop to Rosalie, nor to the courier, nor to Christian during his confrontation in my bedroom.

I want him to— Tiziano dropped the plate. It hit the floor and broke into pieces. Food went everywhere. The glass of water spilled across the carpet. He did not look at any of it. He did not look at anything except her. His eyes were wide. His mouth was slightly open. His chest was moving up and down too fast. He looked like he had been struck by lightning. Alessandria jumped off the bed. She said, “What is wrong? Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”