Ghost in the City - Chapter 21

As the future High-Ranking among Elven, I was meant to be dignified and holy—but my friends never gave me the chance. One is a human prodigy turned “cripple” after an accident, determined to prove everyone wrong. Another is the Demon King, whose idea of preparing for war involves turning his entire race into farmers. As I watch my friends stir chaos in their own ways, I can’t help but wonder—how did I end up in the middle of all this?

Derek McCoy was a man that since his youth had to face many adversities. Often forced to settle with surviving rather than living, had finally found his place in the world, until everything was taken from him one last time. After losing his life to avenge his brother, he reincarnates until he finds a world worth living for, a world filled with magic and monsters. Follow him along his journey, from grieving brother to alien soldier. From infant to Supreme Magus.

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Tags: Transmigration, Male MC, Western Fantasy
Schedule: 1 chapter per day
Chapter Lenght: 1700 - 2000 words but usually are even longer
Warning: The MC is not an hero nor an anti-hero. He is a broken, cynic and misanthropic person looking only for his own gain. If you are looking for a forgiving, nice, MC that goes around saving people in distress, this is not your cup of tea.
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I don't own the cover but wasn't able to find the author.

After marriage—On Valentine's Day, Han Jingnian asked, “How are we spending today?”Wrapped up in her blanket and close to falling asleep, Xia Wan'an mumbled, “Sleep.”On Christmas Day, Han Jingnian asked, “How are we spending today?”With her arms around her pillow, Xia Wan'an casually replied, “Sleep.”On their wedding anniversary, holding a cup of water, Han Jingnian asked, “How are we spending today?”Cozied up in bed, with sleepy eyes, Xia Wan'an looked at Han Jingnian, wary of the water he might spill on the bed. She thought for a moment, then replied, “With you... together.”

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.