Dawn of the Void - Chapter 83: Someday. Not today.

The Demon King dies and the entire Demon Realm perishes in the prologue of “The Demon King is Dead,” and I have become the Demon Prince of that novel.

… Somebody save me.

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Tycoon + Beauties + Rebirth + Humor + Anti-routine“As long as the host interacts with a beauty rated 90 or above, they can receive a cash reward.”“Moreover, for every 30-point increase in the target's favorability towards the host, there is a guaranteed chance to win a prize!”“So, what might the prize be?”“Common prizes include a Beauty Evolution Agent that can enhance the host’s attractiveness from a score of 78 to a stunning 95...”“Well... actually, I don't really care about the money or the lottery. Mainly, I just really love playing games!”From then on, Zhang Jingdong changes his destiny with the help of the extravagant system, reaching the pinnacle of life.

Oliver Patrick, the Greatest General in Stormfront's history has a secret - a secret not many know. They think that his Iron WIll was built overnight. They know not the path of suffering he walked, as the slave Beam, to reach his destiny as King, and then Emperor.This is that story. A true story, of progress, struggle, hardship and strength. A story of greatness achieved without a system. A story of how one unknown boy's struggle transformed a continent forever.//ExtractThe arm dropped to the floor, as did the head. Spear points raced past the falling corpse as the goblins sought to take advantage of his momentary lapse in attention. But the tide had already shifted. The equilibrium that had kept the battle going for so long was shattered. With no bruiser to take care of their front lines and distract his attention, the goblins in front of him were no match for his speed.He employed his misdirection as he normally might, feigning the same backwards step that he had practised over and over, before leaping forward, catching the goblin off guard, twisting his body to avoid its spear and forcing his blade into its throat.It let out a high-pitched squeal as it dropped its spear and attempted to stem the tide of blood that was spurting from the wound. The goblin next to it squealed too, in fear this time, as its eyes widened, seeing two of its comrades dealt with so easily in quick succession. Beam saw it take a backwards step, as it attempted to turn and run away. But he was on it before it had a chance. He wrapped his arm around its neck and drove a sword through its back.Rather than let the corpse fall to the floor as he normally might, he held onto this one, enduring its death throes. Once life had finally left its body, he shifted it into place as a meat shield. Two arrows thudded against it, almost piercing it straight through. But the time they reached Beam the momentum was entirely gone – though they touched him, they did not even pierce his clothes.Slowly, with his meat shield in place, Beam advanced on the remaining goblins. They both shared a glance with each other as they dared to fire another volley, before turning on their heels and attempting to sprint away.“Stay,” a brief moment of eye contact, and one of the goblins was rooted in place. Beam tossed his shield aside and picked up a spear instead. With a twist of his hips and shoulder, the spear went soaring, impaling the running goblin straight through its stomach. Its bow fell to the ground, as strength left its hands. It then fell to its knees, before falling face down to the floor, pushing the spear back through itself.

Karl awoke to find himself shockingly reduced to a crippled Evil God confined within a bottle.The Fischer family had inadvertently become his favored members, sharing a fate connected by blood throughout the generations.They established a secret clan, infiltrated the state, manipulated wars, ascended the God Pantheon stairway, and fought for the honor and future of the family.They were assassins lurking in the shadows, beloved scholars, esteemed priests, powerful dukes, and legends in heroic epics.From budding to robust growth, steampunk evolved; the Spirit Realm descended through dreams; witches and ancient gods stepped forth, and people listened to the lost whispers at their ears.They were both the creators and the enders of stories.Generation after generation, in a continuous succession, they marched forward.“Step over my corpse and go on,” he said.