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... ge his name."

Aramith frowned. "I don’t think Whiskers is a name for boys or girls, Lia."

"Shh. I’m thinking." She waved him off like he was the nuisance.

"I know! I’ll call her Whiskey!" Her face lit up as if she’d solved an ancient riddle.

"Whiskey? That doesn’t sound right." Aramith’s eyes narrowed. "Who names a cat Whiskey?"

"I do," Lia said, grinning. "Who cares? It sounds nice to me."

He stared at the stubborn-looking Lia and sighed. "It migh ...

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“It was an era taken over by a single online game, the “”Second World.””

The “”Second World”” offered a vast amount of classes and skills...

Micheal, our protagonist, reincarnated back into this era and realized he had a few bugged passive skills that would put him as one of the best.

[Passive skill: Damage Reduction: When you receive damage from an enemy, the damage will be reduced accordingly to the reduction percentage. Skill lasts for 10 seconds and takes 10 seconds to cooldown.]

[Passive skill: Damage Reflect: When you receive damage, the damage will be reflected accordingly to the reflection percentage.]

[Passive skill: Damage Multiplier: When you deal damage to an enemy, the damage you dealt will be multiplied.]

[Passive skill: Sword Attack Nullifier: When you attack an enemy with a sword, the enemy will kneel in front of you and catch your blade with their bare hands.]

[Passive skill: Priest: When you suffer from damage, automatically heals yourself.]

[Passive skill…]

[Passive skill…]

.........

After reading through all his passive skills, he suddenly realized how invincible he as.

Even though he didn’t possessed a single active skill, he could still triumph over everyone else with his passive skills.

One day, when the “”Second World”” mysteriously merged with the real world, monsters and divine beings began to invade Earth…

That was when Micheal realized that his passive skills have also given him the power to kill these divine beings…”

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The clock struck midnight when Ruelle heard the echo of footsteps. She tensed, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end in the cool night air.“You shouldn't be here,” Ruelle whispered, her voice a breathless murmur. The silhouette finally came to stand under the moonlight, his dark red eyes watching her and his inky black hair ruffling.“Shouldn't I?” His voice was a dark caress, and she stood there captivated by the danger he exuded like perfume.“I haven’t seen you for the last two days,” his tone low. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against the silk of her nightgown, tracing the trembling outline of her collarbone. “Tell me, were you avoiding me, or perhaps... entertaining other offers?”Ruelle’s heart raced, her breaths shallow. She declared, “I don't belong to anyone.”“A bold claim,“ he murmured, his breath a tantalising chill against her skin as he leaned in. ”Yet here you are, pulse racing, your body tensed as if in anticipation of my touch.”His fingers gripped her chin, tilting her face towards his. The moonlight caught his eyes, revealing a glint of predatory intent. “Or must I remind you whose touch you truly crave?”

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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.

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“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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