Mercenary Harem in Murim Novel - Chapter 200 – Supreme Evil’s Bones

Living carefree at home is the greatest shortcut—- My house is the world’s greatest magic power spot, that being the case both my house and I were summoned to another world by some guys who were aiming for it. However, I’ve been living in this place for many years and my body is, apparently, abnormally overflowing with magic. Due to some unforeseen circumstances by those guys who summoned me, they quickly ran away. Be that as it may, there are some ill-mannered people who covet the magic leaking out of my house. I won’t give up my house to those people! I’m going to wield my power as I please!

A polite and lethargic boy was reincarnated in another world as a vampire bishoujo.

Let someone else go to war, you, lucky Austria, go get married! What the god of war can give you, the god of love can also give you.

The smoke of the Napoleonic Wars has dissipated, and the Vienna system that once brought peace to Europe is riddled with holes. Beneath the seemingly peaceful appearance, there is a vortex of the times with undercurrents, the tranquility before the storm.

The air is filled with the steaming mist of sweat, and the choking black smoke makes it hard to breathe. On the elegant dining table, a group of soldiers and fat men in suits are pushing each other, feasting on the feast called the world, hanging on the wall Van Gogh’s self-portrait with waltz in his ears.

Suddenly the music turned into a march, and the picture also turned to the battlefield. Soldiers marched in a neat line, walking towards the machine gun barbed wire.

A shell fell on the ground, and after the smoke passed, countless cavalry rushed to the artillery position.

Accompanied by a loud noise, a wooden plane flew close to the ground, then pulled up rapidly, broke through the clouds, and shone brightly.

- Description from novelbuddy

Epic fantasy presence: Ashes Of The First Tyrant [AOTFT]Prologue – The Law of AuraThey say every soul burns.Some flare brightly and fade. Others smolder quietly for a lifetime.But a rare few, rare beyond reason ignite with such intensity that the world bends to them. These are not gods. Not yet.These are the Tyrants.And their aura is not a gift.It is a weight a burden.In this world, aura is everything.It is the breath behind a sword strike, the pressure behind a command, the silent will that can crush or inspire. Most are born with it. Few master it.But only one…only one in an ageawakens the Tyrant’s Spirit…the aura that dominates not by force, but by presence alone.