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... ian knew before crossing, and the body after crossing belongs to the poor and has not learned anything The text is normal, being able to understand from instinct and speak the language of this world, without affecting communication, is already the luckiest of Lucien's numerous difficulties.

Therefore, the current Lucian, tragically becoming a real illiterate, can only look at the magic notes, and he cannot understand a word.

Balussian smiled at himself: "I don't feel good about ill ...

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But if the heroes of the past committed even the faults of their parents, as long as the persona collapsed, the forgiven crimes would rise again like an unextinguished fire, and the stars of the past would be reduced to unforgivable sinners in an instant…

“—Come and be a hero, Russell.”

The most vicious criminal in the world stuffed the knife into the young man’s hand and whispered to persuade him.

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With the advent of steam power, mankind has advanced and ushered in the industrial revolution. This is the age of steam locomotives, guns, and cannons, as well as curses, magic, artifacts, and the supernatural.

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Elia is a poor university student until the night she’s taken to the world of the Anima—ruled by humans whose ancient hearts pulse with the blood of animals. There she’s forced into a battle to the death. But when Elia survives, and refuses to kill her final opponent, the King must either kill Elia himself, or take her as his mate.

Reth, the brutal King of the Beasts with the blood of lions, shocks everyone when he chooses the weak, human Elia to become his Queen. He promises her every comfort of his wealth and position—but he is clear: She will not warm his bed. He chose her to defeat those that were trying to corner him into blending his Leonine line with the Wolves.

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He stalked towards her, chin low so the shadow cast by his hard jaw cut across the thick fur collar of his vest. His hair had fallen over his eyes in the scuffle, so he peered at her through it like a lion in the grass. With each step, his graceful, rolling gait reminded her of a predator stalking its prey. Despite the forest floor littered in twigs and leaves, he didn’t make a sound.

“Wh-who are you?” Elia stammered, backing away, her hands up. He met her step for step until she came up hard against the tree behind her—and didn’t stop until he loomed over her, so broad his shoulders and chest made a wall in front of her. She could feel the heat rising off his skin in the cool, night air.

“I am the Leonine King.” His voice was a dark, husky gravel. Behind him a chorus of wheezes, howls, and chirps of agreement rose from the people watching. “And you are?”

“Elia,” she breathed.

“Elia,” he growled, leaning in closer, bringing with him the scent of pine and rain and the musk of something distinctly male. “I am Reth.” He said the name with a strange, guttural roll in his throat. “I am King of Beasts. I am Clan Leader, and I am Alpha of WildWood.” Several snarls rose from the crowds behind him then, but he ignored them.

Elia swallowed as he leaned in until the scruff on his jaw rasped her cheek. “I am the King,” he said, “And you will be my mate.”

The forest behind him erupted.