Trinity of Magic - Chapter 180:B3 - 51: First Experiences as a Teacher

”On the bed.“ My new master, the Alpha of Drogomor, commanded.I walked toward the bed, naked, ashamed, and full of tears.I was about to lose my virginity, but it meant nothing to the man who was going to take it.***I am Rosalie, 20 years old, sold to the most terrifying alpha by my own father.”You're nothing to me but a breeder.“ he said to me cruelly.I had long known that my love for him was hopeless and foolish. However, I was naïve to think that was the end of the story.Once the baby is born, I will be put to death.***People thought I was dead, but I survived.”It's you!“ He grabbed my hand, and his eyes were filled with emotions I couldn't understand. ”Come back to me, Rosalie.“”Sorry.“ I calmly looked back at him, ”but I think you've got the wrong person.“

At nineteen, Dexter was already one of the world’s most celebrated authors. His books topped charts. Critics praised his genius. Fans devoured every word. But behind the acclaim was a lonely boy—raised without parents, love, or real friends—just stories.He published his first novel at fourteen. By seventeen, he was a literary star. But the higher he rose, the hollower it felt.Then came the writer’s block. The headaches. The blackout. And the transmigration.Dexter awoke in the body of Daylan, a disgraced young man in a crumbling, medieval world laced with steampunk tech, divine law, and political unrest. Daylan had already failed two of the three sacred Trials—rites that determine one’s magical potential. He was drowning in debt, entangled in plots to overthrow a corrupt Divine Church, and branded a lost cause.With no way back, Dexter took the final Trial—the most brutal of them all—and began a path that would earn him the whispered title: Soldier, Poet, King.But as his powers grew, one question haunted him: Did he truly die? And if so, who—or what—chose to bring him back?

Igor had asked him to die for the world. She would ask him to die for her. Problem was, he didn't really like dying, not for a second time, at least.

Arriving in a new world where the steam industry was booming, he inherited a three-story apartment on the capital’s royal square, took in someone else’s cat, and listened to the whispers at his ear, ready to witness this mysterious and bizarre era. The epic of the Sixth Era was about to commence, and behind the curtain, The Chosen One was destined to step into legend. Old Gods, Relics, steam, witches, detectives, ancient secrets, the Era’s brilliance... “Would you like to play a round of Roder Cards?” Time engraved the hours, as Silvermoon illuminated the shadows. I compose your legend, you whisper your verses to me.