I Became the Legendary Emperor Throughout the Ages After I Started Giving Away My Territory - Chapter 158.1

Freyah Lima knew death all too well, but waking up five hours before the apocalypse gave her a second chance. Armed with memories of the past, she races against time to prepare. Yet, when she reaches her parking lot, she finds something-or someone-that shouldn't exist.A man stands there: silver hair, ragged clothes, and a translucent screen hovering above his head.[Florence PlaridelRole: Third Male Lead of the Novel PrimroseAbility: Healing and SwordmanshipFate: Unknown]Florence Plaridel-the half blood third prince, the unrequited lover, a skilled healer and swordsman from the last novel Freyah read before her death. In Primrose, he managed to escape before his execution due to treason, then said his farewell to the female lead, telling her he won't bother her anymore. After that, nothing was mentioned anymore about him.But now he's here. In her world. On the eve of its destruction.Freyah doesn't know how or why a fictional character has appeared, but one thing is certain: the apocalypse will rewrite the world, and Florence's unexplained presence could change everything.As survival becomes a race against fate, Freyah must decide: is Florence the key to saving this world, or a sign that its ending has already begun?The forgotten prince has returned-and with him, the rules of fate are no longer absolute.

William was but an ordinary man—until fate saw fit to thrust him fifteen years into the past. Yet, this was no mere journey through time; he awoke not in his own flesh, but in that of the third son of Duke Herne, the most formidable noble in the realm.Now, amidst the glittering halls of power, where smiles conceal daggers and honour is but a well-spoken lie, William must navigate a world where commoners are naught but dust beneath the boots of the aristocracy. In this treacherous game of deception and ambition, he must learn quickly—for in the world of the nobility, ignorance is a death sentence----------------------------Hear ye, my loyal readers… From this day onward, updates shall be limited to three chapters per day—no more!Alas, my quill grows weary, and my stockpile of chapters runs thin. The weight of silence presses upon this tale, and my passion falters…I ask but a simple boon—Golden Tickets and a flood of reviews! Shall this humble plea go unanswered?.

As a princess that could not wield magic, Princess Daphne’s only value to her kingdom was her arranged marriage. The task was simple, but when Daphne gets kidnapped and brought to the cold mountains of Vramid, she realizes that she’s in over her head.

She had heard of these cursed mountains before― rocky terrain, freezing temperatures, and the land was ruled by a man feared by many within the continent.

King Atticus Heinvres, the blood-thirsty ruler of the North.

Even though she had never met him before, tales were spread of King Atticus’s ruthlessness. Some said he was a monster, others claimed he was the devil himself, but whatever the story was, everyone knew of the man who had powers beyond anyone’s imagination. He could topple armies and crumble nations with just one wave of his hand, aided by what others rumored to be a cursed obsidian ring.

No one outside of Vramid had ever met the fearsome king before. Not until Daphne.

However, upon meeting the formidable man, Daphne found out that the king might not really be the monster others had claimed him to be.

In fact, what was hidden under that obsidian shield could just be a diamond in the rough.

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[Excerpt]

“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

―

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Why, seems like I’ve become a haunted portrait.