Soulforged: The Fusion Talent - Chapter 63 — All Roads Led to vester

[ R18+ ]“TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF…NOW!!” Zara commanded the king Erythian in anger as her eyes turn blood red.he didn't see it coming and his face is flushed with shock..“WHAT? LYS—” he asked before she interrupts.“if I have to ask again...I WILL DO IT MYSELF” she is unrelenting.Does Eythian comply?Zara, a modern girl from Colombia law school is transmigrated into the body of an ancient queen.She wakes up as Queen Lysandra.With a turn of events, she is Obsessed over by the ruthless, Warlord Alaric and finds herself Falling so dearly for him even if she is aware that it’s forbidden.Simultaneously, she is also betrothed to and in love with his enigmatic half brother King Erythian.let it be known that both brothers detest each other.she fights to hold on to her heart, but fate is cruel.Everything shatters and the man who destroyed her…now owns her.The lines between love and duty are blurred as Zara must navigate threats against the kingdom, alongside the love triangle with her between two brothers who despise each other.As she is taken further into a world of secrets.Will Zara honor Queen Lysandra`s duty to the crown and her people, or will she risk it all to follow the desires of her heart?

At her mother's funeral, Ivy Summers sees it all clearly as her husband celebrates his first love's birthday with great fanfare. Since he doesn't love her, she won't have him either.She leaves behind a divorce agreement, aborts the child, and leaves alone.Five years later, at an auction, the chief auctioneer in a cheongsam with a white veil covering her face amazes the crowd.Damien Lancaster squints his eyes, “Is she called Zinnia?”Assistant, “Yes, it's said that someone once offered tens of millions to see her true face, but was refused.”Damien finally finds the woman he has been searching for, for five years.At night, he blocks her at a crossroads, “The Great Auctioneer Summers, still running?”“President Lancaster, we are divorced.”“I didn't agree to it. Where is my child?”“President Lancaster, it seems you forgot, the child was aborted five years ago.”“Then tell me, what is this?”In front, three five-year-old kids stand in a row.

“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

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A weary historian dies and finds himself in a different world awakened in a life as the notorious young Duke of a southern state. His nation is weakened, his army underfed, and his neighbors revolve around his lands menacingly. No one believes his land is going to hold out until winter.But this newfound duke is no naive simpleton his enemies recollect. He carries with him the experience of centuries of war and empire, of starting and ending monarchies. From Caesar to Napoleon, from the Mongols to world wars, he has learned from each of them—and his strategy is to make history his very own arms.He organizes his smashed levies into well-trained formations, rebuilds his castles, and turns his villages into supply centers. Where others see defeat, he senses opportunity. As he triumphs, rumors spread: of a pennant red as winter snow that shall not go to ground, of a bloody duke who writes his name in gore and flame.Is he a savior who's constructing a new empire, or a tyrant who's going to bring the world to endless war?