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Dead Line Traduction

The Merchant of Dead

Alan Yokob dies as he lived—in a blaze of violence. A hitman with a reputation for ruthless efficiency, his final act is a fiery car crash. But death is not the end. When Alan opens his eyes, he finds himself in another world. Complely different from earth. “Welcome to Kirath,”. Once, this realm teetered on the edge of annihilation until mortals overthrew the Demon King’s tyrannical reign. But a thousand years of “peace” have left Kirath fractured—its magic withering, its lands plagued by cataclysms, its people rotting from complacency. The solution? Resurrect the demons. And they’ve chosen Alan, a man who traded in death, to wear the crown. To survive, Alan must wield the **Oblivion Pact**, a parasitic system that rewards carnage with unholy power. Kill to summon ★Soulrenders★—demonic warriors bound to his will. Conquer to rebuild. Rule to channel the chaotic energy that once made demons the world’s necessary evil. But Kirath’s fractured kingdoms see only a monster, not a savior. Holy knights hunt him as a blasphemy. Fallen heroes, drunk on their ancestors’ glory, vow to finish what their forebears started. As Alan battles to resurrect a demonic legacy he doesn’t believe in. The demons were not mere oppressors—they were shackles binding a far older terror. Now, with their power waning, that ancient hunger stirs. To save Kirath, Alan must become the Demon King the world fears… or watch it drown in the hubris of its own “victory.”
Blackcovra · 24.3K Views

Dangerous: Don't cross the line!

* At night He was rugged and untamed. That one steamy night left Grace utterly captivated. She coyly stretched out her dainty, snow-white feet, hooking them around his waist as she softly laid down her terms: For the first time, no staying overnight. The second time, the moment he got himself a significant other, she'd vanish from his side. Later on, their liaison would remain strictly on a physical level. No strings of money attached, no emotional fetters, just the most primal and unadulterated desires that flared up when night fell, entwining them like a web spun by countless spiders. And once the moment had passed, she'd straighten her skirt and turn her back on him, cold as ice. *During daytime He was the heir to a vast business empire, now impeccably dressed in a sharp suit, exuding an air of aristocratic reserve. He extended his hand to her with a polite smile, “Hello, Grace.” Grace gritted her teeth in secret dismay. She hastened to call off whatever was brewing between them, only to find herself cornered against the dressing room by the man, with no way out. In that cramped space, he was a relentless predator, and she, his irresistible quarry. His firmness pressed against her soft curves, setting every inch ablaze. Outside the door, her female colleagues were swooning over his chiseled abs. Just a thin partition away, he locked his arm around her willowy waist, seized her delicate hand, and guided it to rest on his taut abdomen, his voice dripping with a sultry allure, “Thought you could slip away? It's far too late for that.”
Katubari · 13.9K Views
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