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I became an evolving space monster Novel (Translated)

"I Became an Evolving Space Monster" follows the extraordinary journey of a protagonist who finds themselves in an unprecedented situation: they wake up as a space monster in an SF survival game. This transformation sets the stage for a series of thrilling and often humorous adventures in the vast expanse of space. The protagonist is initially disoriented but quickly realizes that they must adapt to survive. As a space monster, they possess unique abilities that allow them to evolve and grow stronger. Throughout the novel, the protagonist encounters various other creatures and characters, each with their own agendas and abilities. Some of these characters become allies, while others pose significant threats. As the story progresses, the protagonist's evolution becomes a central theme. They continuously adapt and change, gaining new powers and abilities that help them overcome challenges. The novel balances action-packed sequences with moments of introspection, as the protagonist grapples with their new identity and the moral implications of their actions. The narrative is rich with world-building, detailing the intricacies of the game world and its rules. The protagonist's journey is marked by a series of quests and missions, each pushing them further along their path of evolution. The novel also explores themes of identity, power, and survival, making it a compelling read for fans of the genre. In summary, "I Became an Evolving Space Monster" is a blend of action, comedy, and fantasy, offering readers a unique perspective on survival and evolution in a game-like setting. The protagonist's journey is both entertaining and thought-provoking, making for an engaging and memorable story. *Translated from the original.* >_
Cheon0_0 · 506 Views

Imperium Maghrebium, the tale of the creation of a Great Empire:French

#KINGDOMBUILDING #MILITARY #SLICEOFLIFE Un groupe d'amis en la noirceur de la nuit se font dévorer par un phénomène pour qui le mot d'étrange n'est point suffisant a le décrire . Années 1200 les Almohade/Al Muwahhidun une entité surpuissante règne en maître sur l'Afrique du nord et la péninsule Ibérique , rien et personne n'aurait pus prédire que cette même superpuissance vivait ses dernières heures de gloire et qu'une sombre ère qui allait durer la moitié d'un siècle pointait son nez sur le cœur de cet empire du Maghreb . Nos protagonistes se retrouvent en plein dans la tourmente de cette période trouble où Sultans/Califes de l'empire se succèdent a un rythme alarmant rappelant la période l'Empire Romain d'Occident , la criminalité connais une hausse , l'empire recule de face aux chrétiens Ibériques et les dynasties vassales à l'empire , pour la première fois depuis 2 siècles les routes commerciales transSaharienne , d'Al Andalus et du Maghreb son sujettes à des raids constants des bandits et criminels en tous genres , le commerce ralentit , l'instabilité se repend , les vivres et marchandises ne circulent plus , les famines accompagnées d'épidémies se déclarent dans tous l'empire , les officiers et bureaucrates de l'empire meurts de façon étrange et misterieuse , ceux qui leur succèdent ne font chaque années que renforcer leur image d'incompétence et de corruption , tous dans l'empire espèrent un messie qui les sauveras eux et cet dernier rempart de l'Occident islamique des loups affamés d'Europe . que fera nos protagonistes pour survivre et vivre en cette période trouble et confuse ? parviendront ils a survivre face aux imprévus de la vie en cet empire qui n'est qu'une simulations titanesques du concept de décadence. English version A group of friends in the dark of night are devoured by a phenomenon for which the word "strange" is not enough to describe it. In the year 1200, the Almohads/Al Muwahhidun, an overpowering entity, reigned supreme over North Africa and the Iberian Peninsula. Nothing and no-one could have predicted that this same superpower was living out its final hours of glory and that a dark era that would last half a century was about to dawn on the heart of this Maghreb empire. Our protagonists find themselves in the midst of the turmoil of this troubled period, when the empire's sultans and caliphs succeed one another at an alarming rate, reminiscent of the period of the Western Roman Empire, crime is on the rise, the empire is retreating in the face of the Iberian Christians and the dynasties vassal to the empire, for the first time in 2 centuries the trans-Saharan trade routes of Al Andalus and the Maghreb are subject to constant raids by bandits and criminals of all kinds, Trade was slowing down, instability was spreading, food and goods were no longer circulating, famines accompanied by epidemics were breaking out throughout the empire, the empire's officers and bureaucrats were dying in strange and misterious ways, and those who succeeded them every year only reinforced their image of incompetence and corruption, everyone in the empire was hoping for a messiah who would save them and this last bulwark of the Islamic West from the the hungry wolves of Europe. What will our protagonists do to survive and live in these troubled and confused times? Will they manage to survive in the face of the unforeseen events of life in this empire, which is nothing more than a titanic simulation of the concept of decadence?
KaiserRayane · 11.4K 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 · 689.7K Views
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