Transmigration: The Little Chef Calls The Shots - Chapter 1309 - 177, Poisoned (Third Watch)

He became the Emperor when he was just a boy and was beheaded before reaching adulthood. It was a tragedy brought about by his fate as the first noble wizard.“Ian, don’t be born in your next life.”He thought everything was over, listening to the traitor’s heartless words. He knew, but…“You are a symbol of peace. Where else would you find such honor as a lowly one?”He became the Margrave’s bastard son, whose family went extinct 100 years ago.A lowly, unsophisticated one, destined to be sold as a hostage to the barbarians across the border.

You’d think seeing the future would give me a head start on surviving the apocalypse. I had it all planned—until everything I knew shattered when my husband sacrificed himself to save me and our son. Now it’s just me, my three-year-old son Leo, and my cursed gift of foresight that only seems to kick in when it’s nearly too late.I’m doing my best to keep us safe, to find food, to make some kind of plan—“Mommy?”I glance down, trying to ignore the tug on my pant leg as I focus on our supplies. “Not now, Leo. Mommy’s thinking.”“Mommy!”I sigh and finally look down. My three-year-old is standing there, clutching… I blink. “Leo, where did you get a knife?”He shrugs, grinning like it’s the most natural thing in the world.My heart stutters. “No, really. Where did you find that?”I try not to laugh. I mean, he’s three. Maybe he just—found it somewhere? But the next day, it’s a water bottle. Then, a tiny flashlight, somehow with batteries still inside.I don’t even know what else; he’s pulling things out one by one with the pleased grin of a kid who’s just figured out his favorite game.Well, we may just survive this mess after all.Now, if only the universe could have spared me from him. I don’t even know his name, but I know his type: tall, broad, and annoyingly handsome, with an air of calm control that’s out of place in this chaos. Ex-military, if I had to guess, with a voice that’s just as infuriating as his smirk. The man has a habit of showing up at the worst—or best—possible times, with a gun at the ready and secrets buried as deep as those bright green eyes.I mean, he’s probably useful, but I’m trying to keep my eyes on the prize here: survival.For Leo and me.Because, foresight or no foresight, nothing is guaranteed in this new world—except the fact that people like him are trouble.

Magical beasts trample, dragons roar, wizards curse, and the dazzling light of magic illuminates the beacon of knowledge!

Emperor of Gabella: The Imperial Legion is invincible on land.

Orc Chieftain: Each of our tribal warriors is worth ten of any other.

Elven King of the Emerald Realm: Our forest rangers never miss their mark.

President of the Horn Bay Alliance: The Alliance fleet reigns supreme over the seas.

A Mysterious Organization: The prophesied era will eventually arrive.

Paul Grayman: I’m not singling anyone out, but everyone here is tr*sh.

Embark on a journey with firearms and cannons, crushing the low-magic planes…

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