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Split The Sea

Ashes Of Deep Sea

Duncan Abnomar was transmigrated to a magical world. Most of the lands of the world had sunken, and the surviving humans could only live on islands. Due to an unknown reason, the world was also contaminated and strange phenomena and things would randomly appear. Humans had developed steam gear technology, and the islands were connected through boats. They survived by studying strange phenomena that happened all around the world. However, as the captain of a scary-looking ghost ship, Duncan was facing a huge challenge. "How the heck do I steer this ship?" Highly recommended by experienced editor: MC is transmigrated to a world mostly covered in water and far from civilization. He becomes the captain of the ghost ship, the 'Homeloss'. He steers through the fog and adventures through the broken world and the unknown deep sea. As he discovers the ruins of abandoned civilization, he would also stumble into the war between the strange phenomena and the devil gods. The story takes place in a combination of ocean and Chutly mythology world, a new and interesting background. It’s an attractive story to read due to the author’s sense of humor and mastery over the ambiance of the story. --------------- Another-style introduction: "On that day, a thick fog engulfed everything. On that day, he became the captain of a ghost ship. On that day, he crossed the dense fog and faced a completely overturned and shattered world – the former order was completely gone, and peculiar phenomena dominated the endless seas beyond civilized society. The island city-states and the fleets challenging the sea have become the only lights of civilization left, while the shadows of old days still lurk in the deep sea, waiting to devour this dying world again. But for the new captain, there's only one pressing question – Does anyone know how to sail this damn ship?!"
Yuan Tong · 723K Views

Four Split Personalities

Battling an unusual form of personality dissociation, Motan admits to feeling the weight of immense pressure bearing down on him. Amidst this turmoil, he finds solace in a virtual escape called "The Realm of Innocence," a game that has become his sanctuary from stress. In the realm where ambiguity reigns, Motan's behavior is unpredictable and impetuous, making him the instigator and mastermind behind myriad events that spiral out of control. Yet, within the sphere of virtue, his resilience and courage shine through, earning him the admiration of many who see him as the epitome of a righteous knight and a fair judge. When dwelling in the balance of absolute neutrality, he adopts a demeanor of modesty and lethargy, mirroring the ordinary essence of every soul. Conversely, in the domain of chaotic evil, he transforms into a figure of madness and cruelty, embodying the very essence of a demon and deceiver, showing kindness only to himself. "Tan Mo is the most extraordinary Bard I have ever encountered, though he is... perplexing, to say the least," comments Countess Leisha, reflecting on his complex nature. "Mor is a man of distinguished integrity! Having met him just once, I am convinced that he is someone one can confidently turn their back to," declares Gwen, the leader of the Rose Rot, acknowledging his noble character. "If you're in search of the ideal neighbor, look no further than Hei Fan," recommends Alchemist Luna, suggesting his suitability for companionship. Yet, amidst these varied testimonies, a warning resonates, "Don't talk about that man!" indicating a mysterious, perhaps darker aspect of his persona that remains unexplored.
Micro-leaf Paulownia · 340.2K Views

Across the Huron Sea: Lust For Life

Seized by a panic such as she had never experienced in the 21 short years of her life, Mira scrambled against the man's grip, and a whiff of blood mingled with an intoxicating scent of cedar. “Shh,” he murmured, lowering his head. Pressed against his firm chest, she gulped at the dark red seeping through his shirt ivory white. She risked a glimpse up. Under a silver-black phantom half mask was a sculpted face, strands of jet-black hair sweeping his cheeks. Contrasting his pale complexion were those burgundy red lips, above which, a straight nose cast a shadow on his thin eyes the color of onyx. He glanced down at her, his gaze otherworldly. “If you’re thinking of getting on the back of the truck,” he wheezed, his larynx heaving. “Bad idea.” Deep like the rumbling sea and magnetic, his gravelly voice threatened to drown any audience. ----- History repeats itself. In a world ten thousand years after ours perishes, the planet is ruled by the First World, consisting of the Commonwealth and the Republic across the Huron Sea. 21-year-old Mira de Armas must escape the Commonwealth after a posse of vigilantes who called themselves the Reds started a revolution and persecuted her stepfather till his death. Disguised as a boy, she smuggles herself to the Republic. As she tries to escape from the Customs, she is caught by the most wanted man of the First World, the last drug lord who has taken out all the Republican cartels. The man offers to take her to safety in exchange for helping him to a bunker and treating his wound from the gunshot. Left with no choice, Mira joins forces with the man and learns that he is Dr. Warshon Qusbecq, a renowned physician by day. As their journey uncovers old memories and reveals the conspiracy behind the election of the First World Premier, their relationship evolves from suspicion to mutual dependence and affection. Through intellectual sparring and the exchange of personal stories, they reveal emotional vulnerabilities to each other that they hide from the rest of the world. Drawing on her own experiences in the Commonwealth, Mira sees the truth as she falls into the dark: that darkness exists exactly because the light is shining and enjoyed on the other side. I hope you'll enjoy this romantasy.
Ali_Gin · 10.9K Views

To Sleep In The Sea Of Time

This is a story of a guy who loses everything, and then gets it back. Same old new world story, just a different kind of story teller. *** They took away our hunter tags. They had us grow our hair. They gave us a new brand, when we were over there. They staged us out of Dragur, East of the Olim Horn. I guess they call us Slaves, but no one calls us much anymore. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. Karn brought Sorrow. Pookie brought Fear. Milk brought the fly boys. They did work in Undia. I worked mostly clandestine. Some Legends I should not say. We played with better wands. I could use the extra pay. Did Mara give the order? Did venom pay the way? They said we were slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. This was before HALO, and Codex was king. Hej atop the rider, he never felt a thing. When our rider caught a spell, and both the mages killed. It pitched us over sideways on some cold Sylph hill. My back felt like it was broken, my legs I could not feel. I kept on slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I never did heal up right from injuries sustained Officially in Torin, unofficially we train. I remember all their faces. They dream about me still. I guess I'm slaying demons, but it's kind of hard to tell. There no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I speak the cold logistic, that old boys speak so well. Veni, Vedi, Vici. I'll see you in Hel. Maybe it's bravado, or an unspeakable guilt. That village, they were demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't wanna to do it anymore. I've done plenty. What is one more? -Corb Lund *** Come guess me this riddle. What beats shire leaves and fiddle? What is hotter than pleasures touch, and whiter than cream? What best wets his whistle? What is clearer than crystal? What is sweeter than honey and stronger than steam? What will make the lame walk? What will make the dumb talk? What is the elixir of life and philosopher's stone? And what helped Pookie-Baba dig up a tunnel, that runs from Shalamanda to West-Torin? When you are digging a crater, It is the best thing in nature, for sinking your sorrows and raising your joys. Sometimes I wonder, if lightning and thunder, is made out of the plunder, of the reddest hiski and oils. *** If you can keep your head when all about you, are losing theirs and blaming it on you. If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too. If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise. If you can dream, and not make dreams your master. If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim. If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same. If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken, twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build them up with worn-out tools. If you can make one heap of all your winnings, and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss and lose, and start again at your beginnings, and never breathe a word about your loss. If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew, to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you; Except the Will which says to them ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, nor walk with Kings, nor lose the common touch. If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you. If all men count with you, but none too much. If you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds worth of distance, run. Yours is the World and everything that’s in it, and which is more you’ll be a Man, my son. - Rudyard Kipling
man_of_culture3030 · 696.4K Views
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