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Cord Cutting Baki

Fiendhunter

When the port of Franik chokes on briny fog thick with the reek of decay, a witcher pierced through the heart by a pitchfork opens eyes that no longer belong to him—Bai Lang, a 21st-century zoologist, now inhabits this scarred body. Hired by a tavern keeper for three silver coins to dredge up a drowned earl’s bastard, he finds a spoon stamped with royal wax in the corpse’s bloated stomach. As fishing nets haul up indigo cloth fragments from the New World, the gallows creaks under the weight of its seventh “witch,” her charred ankles swaying above the harbor. Twelve letters bearing disparate noble crests steer Bai Lang toward a fractured silver sword’s trail: a sarcophagus in a monastery crypt weeps with a banshee’s lament, a cyclops’ birthmark glows upon a fishergirl’s collarbone in rhythm with the tides, and Crusader curses fester as sentient barnacles devouring sailors in a merchant ship’s belly. Yet the deadliest snare lies in the crown prince’s chambers—a unicorn tapestry woven from twelve bastards’ umbilical cords, every thread stitched with the witchers’ vanishing truth. Shrouded sails pierce the North Sea’s fury as the fabled Isle of Witchers emerges from mythic fog. When pyres of burning witches stain the horizon and the Pope’s dagger presses against a laboring mother’s fevered throat, Bai Lang clutches the final shard of silver and understands: the plague ravaging the Old World is no act of God, but a funeral orchestrated by New World capitalists and Old World theocrats. The last witcher’s blade, once plunged into monstrous hearts, must now carve an epitaph for the devils mankind has birthed—and bury an era in its silver grave.
CC_cheng · 737 Views

He Who Cuts Fate

In a reality where fate governs all, one being was never meant to wake. Severence was a name long lost to time, a figure buried so deep in history that even the gods dared not speak of him. Yet, despite their efforts, he has awakened. Not by fate. Not by design. But by something else. He remembers everything. The battles he fought. The gods he defied. The moment he took up The Unmaking, a weapon that does not kill but erases. The war that should have ended with his existence vanishing forever. And yet, here he stands once more. Whole. Alive. Awake. But he does not know why. Cast adrift in a multiverse of endless worlds—where heroes wage war, where gods weave their schemes, where titans clash and destinies are written—Severence searches for an answer. Every world recoils at his presence. Every being, mortal or divine, whispers his name in terror. Every force in existence seems desperate to deny him the truth. Something woke him. Something brought him back. But why? From the burning battlefields of the Holy Grail War to the war-torn realms of gods and monsters, from futuristic dystopias to cosmic battlegrounds—Severence walks the path beyond fate, seeking the answer hidden even from him. And with each world, the whispers grow louder. "He has awakened." "The blade that unmakes walks once more." "Even the gods cannot escape its cut." Severence simply tightens his grip on The Unmaking. Let the gods tremble. Let the universes break. He will carve his own path—until he finds the truth. A/N:**The art used for the cover is AI generated.** A/N:**All other characters except the OG belong to their respective creators.** **This is a fanfic**
SEVERENCE · 7.4K Views
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