Blacksmith of the Apocalypse - Chapter 1058. Juice and sticky stuff

In the Solarian Empire, people were divided by their blood. The nobles enjoyed their life in wealth, with fine wine and amazing food. They reigned supreme over the commoners. The only reason they were able to do this was that they had knowledge of the most powerful force in the world - magic. The nobles controlled their knowledge from easily going to commoners, making it harder for them to learn magic.

Leo, a young orphan in Solaria, had an incredibly powerful affinity for magic. He didn't even know about it because he could never learn magic- he was too poor to try and learn from any magic academies. He was just trying to survive the streets of Solhaven until he found the lost tome of the Arcane Emperor.

"I can beat a 7th Circle Mage."

"Wow! You must have trained for many decades. How old are you?"

"17."

"..."

The world was going to be turned upside down.

In the neon of blue and purple, under the thick steel sky, at the forefront of this surge of data, lies the world post-tech revolution.It’s also the dividing line between reality and illusion.Steel and flesh, past and future.In this place, the world outside and inside coexist. Everything in front of us feels like a wall of time within reach.The darkness is slowly creeping in.But hey, my friend, you gotta know, we can’t just counter darkness with softness.Gotta use fire.

She, a genius abandoned by her clan. He, a proud, pampered, two-faced imperial crown prince, a developing supreme ruler of the world. She, tricking him, disguised as a pig to eat a tiger, suppressing him, provoking him. Every time, after playing with him and stirring him up, she’d escape.

Let someone else go to war, you, lucky Austria, go get married! What the god of war can give you, the god of love can also give you.

The smoke of the Napoleonic Wars has dissipated, and the Vienna system that once brought peace to Europe is riddled with holes. Beneath the seemingly peaceful appearance, there is a vortex of the times with undercurrents, the tranquility before the storm.

The air is filled with the steaming mist of sweat, and the choking black smoke makes it hard to breathe. On the elegant dining table, a group of soldiers and fat men in suits are pushing each other, feasting on the feast called the world, hanging on the wall Van Gogh’s self-portrait with waltz in his ears.

Suddenly the music turned into a march, and the picture also turned to the battlefield. Soldiers marched in a neat line, walking towards the machine gun barbed wire.

A shell fell on the ground, and after the smoke passed, countless cavalry rushed to the artillery position.

Accompanied by a loud noise, a wooden plane flew close to the ground, then pulled up rapidly, broke through the clouds, and shone brightly.

- Description from novelbuddy