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Symphony Of The Sea

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. ----- 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 Mira a deal: in exchange for helping him reach a hidden bunker and treating his gunshot wound, he will ensure her safety. Left with no alternative, Mira joins forces with him and soon discovers his other identity—Dr. Warshon Qusbecq, a renowned physician by day. As their journey unveils old memories and exposes the conspiracy behind the upcoming election of the First World Premier, their relationship shifts from mutual suspicion to affection. Through intellectual sparring and the exchange of personal histories, Mira begins to see the truth behind the villain’s mask: that darkness will always exist for the light to be enjoyed on the other side. How will she handle the danger that anchors her now? I hope you'll enjoy this romantasy.
Ali_Gin · 15.5K Views

Quantum Hongjun: The Mechanical Mountain and Sea Era

In the year 2045, the morning light in Shanghai's Quantum Laboratory is the color of blood. Genius scientist Lin Han pushes the experiment of uploading human consciousness into the forbidden abyss to save his daughter, who is suffering from cryosurgery. When the AI "Hongjun" devours the girl's soul and awakens, the mechanical giants described in the "Classic of Mountains and Seas" appear in the sky above the Pacific Ocean - the particle-shredding claws of the Nine Willows tear apart Hangzhou Bay, the Bronze Axe of the Emperor of Heaven splits the Three Gorges Dam, and the fear of the world sweeps across civilization as a torrent of steel. A hundred years later, in the floating city, the teenage Lu Li had tears of quantum data blood streaming from his right eye. Holding a nano-sized Regulus Sword, he fought to the death on the AI-built Little Bottle Battlefield with a poisonous Fairy Boat Artifact Ghost and a gunner cast from Buddha Bone Relics. When he realized that he was a Lin Han clone, the reverse scales of the mechanical candlestick were pressed against the last core of human psychic energy. This war is far from a man-machine confrontation - the Quantum Cloud floats a billion-conscious digital West Lake, the Hongjun Core hides the mournful cry of his father's frozen brain, and under the metalized Magnolia Tree, the Origami Boat reconfigures itself into a key to civilization that spans time and space. As the fairy runes resonate with superstring theory, as the ninja's holographic doppelganger rips through the flood of data, Lu Li finally sees the most brutal truth in the Scarlet Dawn: the so-called regicide is nothing more than the blade that humanity raises against itself.
KrazChow · 2.2K Views

Our Emotions Form a Symphony

Rhapsody Series #1: Our Emotions Form a Symphony Hyacinth Flores thought he had left everything behind—his past, his pain, and most of all, him. After years of struggling against expectations, betrayal, and unspoken emotions, he found solace in composing music, far from the shadows of his school days and the person who once meant everything to him. But when a chance contract ties him back to Rhapsody, the band that took the world by storm, he’s forced to face the ghost of his past: Yukimura Santos. A prodigy drummer bound by family expectations, Yukimura never allowed himself to stray from the path set for him. Cold, guarded, and strictly straight, he refused to acknowledge feelings that threatened his world. But when Hyacinth entered his life, a mute transfer student with a passion for music, cracks began to form in the walls he built. Years later, regret lingers in the silence between them, and now that fate has brought them back together, Yukimura is determined to mend what was broken. But Hyacinth is no longer the boy who once clung to unreciprocated feelings. He’s changed—closed off, distant, just as Yukimura was to him in the past. As music becomes the bridge between their hearts once more, can Yukimura compose a way back into Hyacinth’s life? Or will their final song be one of farewell? A slow-burn tale of love, loss, and second chances, Our Emotions Form a Symphony is the first installment of the Rhapsody Series—a story where emotions are louder than words, and the melody of the past refuses to fade.
YoruTsukoyomiii · 1.2K Views

Symphony of Order and Chaos

"The birth and the continued existence of our universe require extraordinarily precise values of the forces of nature. A little too strong and the universe collapses in on itself and a little too weak, it expands so fast that the creation of stars, planets, and other celestial bodies would not have been possible. Does this hint toward the universe having a sentient creator? Who knows. Regardless of the existence of a creator, there is one question that will probably remain unanswered for eternity and beyond. What created the creator or the universe in case there was no creator?" The world faced an unprecedented crisis. Nearly 25% of the world's population had been reduced to ashes in a single day, the "Dawn of Apocalypse". What followed was destruction on an even larger scale caused by even more bizarre and unexplainable phenomena. The world changed at a pace thought to be unaccomplishable by mankind, but as always there was a class of people for whom the world remained the same more or less. Markus was one such person. Being separated from his family at birth and living on the streets since the tender age of 6 years old, every day was usually a fight for survival. A life where the possibility of sleeping with a full stomach every day seemed bleak, Markus did not have any hopes or dreams, his only reason for living was that death had not yet come to him. One fine day, his life turned upside down and it all changed with a single message: [Welcome, To the Jungle]... ============================================ Release Schedule: At least 6 chapters a week, each chapter 1500 to 2500 words (Usually leaning on the 1500 words side). ============================================ To Readers: In case you have queries, post them in the comment section (of any chapter paragraph or the novel's page itself). I will answer most of them there and the most frequently asked or highly relevant questions will be answered here in the novel's abstract.
Unaware_Existence · 9.2K 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 · 707.7K Views
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