MTL - Of All the Transmigrations, Why Am I a Prisoner? - Chapter 112 cry for forgiveness

The Hero’s party was attacked by a large group of powerful devils. The party will no doubt be annihilated if this were to go on.

***Together, they were like fire and ice.***Damon pursued, ready to conquer while Alexander ran, trying so hard to remain cold and guarded.Alexander had thought guarding the sick crown prince was something so easy until he found himself cruelly yet so innocently tempted.***excerpt***“You will stay the hell away from me.” Alexander threatened, his voice hard and tortured as he tried to recover from his emotional rollercoaster.“Oh really?” Damon drawled as he held up a wine glass to his lips, taking a sip as his eyes looked at the man that was standing quite a distance from him, ready to bolt.“Yes and I mean it your highness.” Alexander replied and he watched the mischievous gleam that entered the prince's clear blue eyes that were quite a welcome compliment to his thick silver hair.“Alright.” he relented and Alexander blinked, surprised but his relief lasted for seconds.“We will see how far you can run my honorable knight. Oh and just so you know, I love a good chase.” Damon assured and it didn't take Alexander ages to know that he had close to no winning chance when it came to this one man.Oh yes, he was doomed...so sweetly doomed.......Hey guys, I have decided to try writing something new, a genre I haven't tried before but one that I find interesting enough to explore.This book is a romance BL novel and if you are one that likes the genre or loves to try new things, please don't hesitate to try out my new book.Also, feel free to check out my other novel...The heiress's revenge: A rise from the ashes.Thank you!

“When the old gods are forgotten, they do not die—they wait.”In the year 1025, the Viking Age wanes.Iceland bows to Christ. The Althing governs by law. And the gods of old fade to whispers.But in the far Westfjords, something stirs.Vetrulfr, a former Varangian captain and exile, returns from the East with foreign gold, forgotten warcraft, and a hunger no man can name.He comes not in peace, but to raise Ullrsfjörðr from ash and ice; building walls, carving runes, and waging war on behalf of a dying faith.From Reykjavík to Aachen, rumors spread: a ghost walks the North once more. Some call him the son of Ullr. Others, a wolf-cloaked demon.But all will know his name.and when the Valkyries call, he will answer.

Once, because of a pair of purple eyes he was scorned. He is a wangye known across the land, cold and bloodthirsty, looking disdainfully upon the world.