Vampir Lord: Erotic RPG - 47 Chapter 47

What is worse than being the worst team in the world?

For Dave Richards that was a very easy but heartbreaking question to answer, a goalkeeper who performed poorly between the sticks, he was still available as a first-choice goalkeeper because Unique FC didn't have any other goalkeeper.

He was slow on his feet, couldn't jump properly and worst of all, he didn't know how to hold the ball properly.

The only way that Unique FC was able to survive taking in a massive goal-fest sometimes was because of the extra effort they put in their defence.

After a terrible match in which Dave wasn't able to make any saves and also made a lot of mistakes, he was seriously scolded by the managerial staff and almost received a beating from his angry teammates.

He got home sad and also angry at all those who told him he looked like his grandfather and would therefore inherit his goalkeeping skills.

He discovered a hidden door below his room and when he got down there the only thing he could see was a black box.

He found the box to be quite familiar and when he opened it the last thing he saw was a bright white light when the light was gone he could see something in his field of vision.

[ Welcome Dave ]

[ You have activated the Goalkeeping system ]

A female voice read out the messages.

This is a story about how an ordinary man who didn't know his place between the sticks went from nothing to pro.

The Empire's forces retreated in desperation—trampled by faceless horrors bringing darkness and death to these once beautiful lands.Only the most courageous stood in defiance, forming a last defence to buy the people time to flee—fighting until the final embers of hope burned out.A man stands with a silver sword, like a beacon of hope to those around him. He roared with all his might drawing his blade against the overwhelming enemy!“You face Lancelot, Sword of the Empire! ”These horrors tested the Lord's grit and loyalty in the final moments.“Should my blade break, I will use my body!”The knights had fallen, broken swords for their tombstones, and lords fled, betraying the Empire to survive.“If my body breaks, I'll use my Soul!”Lancelot, the sword of the Empire, fought alone.All hope seemed lost.“And if my Soul fails...”What could a single man and his army do?He fights against the dark tide, blade in hand, heart on sleeve.“I will sell myself to the devil for revenge!”But he was too weak, too fragile.The last Lord of humanity stood against the enemy.Lancelot was a master of the sword, a mortal, neither a God nor a Saint.Miracles were beyond his reach.Now only a broken man impaled on his own destroyed throne.His blade shattered—now, like rose petals, it was scattered across the charred ground.Lancelot's soul was fated for the abyss as the light faded from his eyes.His last ounce of resistance used staring at the man who betrayed the Empire.Now with only the desire to kill, crush and seek revenge smouldering inside him.Now unwilling to die and desperate to fight once again.He desired to fight for the people who supported him.Lancelot refused to surrender, to fall like this.As quietly in the abyss, a voice whispered to him.It tried to entice the Lord, ignite his desire to win and fight again.“If given a second chance, to relive your life with a different choice... Would you Accept?”Blood gathered in his throat, forcing him to reply in his mind.A frail and broken voice'There is no reason to ask, of course!'“No matter the cost?”'Even if I were to lose everything...''If my people can live on. I would sacrifice everything I have!'“You will no longer be the same, a monster, twisted and vicious.”“Will you still accept?”The Lord's heart ached, taking great pride in his humanity.To lose that caused his mind to falter.Finally, out of power, unable to speak or reply with a trembling arm.Lancelot reached out.Towards the raspy voice.Towards the abyss.Towards a new future.[So you would accept after all...]'I must accept.''I must stand tall.''I must not break.''Because...''I am the Lord of humanity![Nay, you are the king of demons]

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”

Mu Yang was born again in 2008, in his prime, with a beautiful girlfriend on the left and a reading system on the right.

At LV1, for every 1000 words read, +1 yuan, +1 skill experience;

……

Mu Yang is helpless: I really don’t blame me, I just want to read quietly.

Single girl, focusing on physical industry, nostalgic writing, relaxing, making up for regrets, starting with this book.

- Description from novelbuddy