Download Chereads APP
Chereads App StoreGoogle Play
Chereads

We Survive Kotoko

Stacking Passives to Survive!

After transmigrating into a high-martial arts world where everyone was built like an elite athlete, Chen Kuang also obtained a golden finger, a cheat ability that refreshes daily, allowing him to stack passive skills. He figured he should keep a low profile and grow steadily while lying low... But the world had other plans. People just wouldn’t stop treating him inhumanely and so his passives kept piling up. [Flesh Reishi]: Your flesh is nearly infinitely regenerative and rivals celestial treasures, consuming it can prolong life and cure ailments. [Sword Heart]: You possess an innate, enlightened sword heart, when a blade is in your hand, it becomes an extension of your will. [Fortune in Misfortune]: Every calamity you survive grants you a corresponding blessing. [Heavenly Demon Mimicry]: Any technique used against you can be instantly replicated as your own. [Celestial Visage]: Your handsomeness rivals that of the divine. This year... The future empress who would dominate the world was still a helpless orphaned brat, tucked under Chen Kuang’s arm as he fled. The revered "Benevolent Immortal" faced his trolley problem and was forever burdened with an inescapable heart demon. The undying demonic sovereign was just a timid little maid serving a courtesan. The White Dragon True Monarch, who would later slaughter his way through the demon race, was still nothing more than a drifting piece of frayed rope. And Chen Kuang, then a death-row convict, set the chaotic world ablaze, starting with a single torch.
ExoEight_ · 41K Views

the gods we became

The world died in fire and hunger. Not the slow death of time, nor the patient decay of empire, but in one great convulsion, a sickness let loose like a rabid dog to consume the weak and clear the board. That was The Compact’s plan. Cull the herd, raise the shepherds. They made the Novans for that purpose—gods wrapped in flesh, towering over men with their turquoise eyes and minds sharper than razors. They were designed to lead, to rule, to rebuild the world in The Compact’s image. But first, the world had to burn. So The Compact unshackled the virus. The Eaters came. And the world ended. Yet, in the ruin, three souls move against the tide. Briggs Alabo, nine years old, a scientist, a genius, a monster. One of The Compact’s prized minds, his hands shaped the very plague that tore the world apart. But now, he’s lost, alone, hunted—trapped outside the walls in a world of his own creation. And for the first time, he sees the world not as numbers, but as faces, as screams, as dying prayers. He is small. He is weak. But he is not done. Cassandra, a university student who thought life was a path you walked at your own pace. But the world doesn’t ask permission. It takes, it devours. And now, she runs, she fights, she survives. She does not know that the architects of this ruin whisper her families name in their halls. Hamza, a survivalist, a man prepared for the end of days—but not for what came after. Not for the Eaters, nor for the horrors men become when the rules turn to dust. He thought the greatest war was against the dead. He was wrong. Their paths should never have crossed. But fate is a patient spider. Captured after a brutal fight with a Novan, Cassandra and Hamza are taken to The Compact’s hidden bastion. And there, a secret is laid bare—Hamza is not just a man. He is a legacy. The son of General Hamza Tarfa, the first and deadliest Novan ever created. A man thought dead by Hamza, a legend of the Compact gone rogue, a warlord building a force to tear The Compact down. Now, Hamza must choose. Will he kneel to The Compact and build their utopia? Or will he stand with a father who left him behind, a father who now seeks to burn the false gods from their thrones? Meanwhile, Briggs returns home—or what’s left of it. The Compact’s halls are empty. The man made gods have fled. And in their place, wolves. Bandits rule the ruins, their leader a beast of a woman called Anansi. Briggs, small and breakable, is given his first lesson in real survival. He does not break. He does not beg. He wins. But he is not alone. The General has found him. And war is coming.
bello_Alfa · 532 Views

We Who Survived The Sky

They say, although you never really know how reliable 'they' are, that over five million people go missing every year and are never heard from again. Is that worldwide? America only? I never cared enough to pay attention, because as far as I was concerned, it had nothing to do with me. No one I know has ever disappeared, and the odds say that no one I ever know ever will. There's more people who live in New York City than that, and I've never even been to New York City, much less lived there. I don't know anyone who has. Besides. There's so many more pressing matters to think about. I never have the sort of free time I need to think that, really, I'm playing a lottery with crappy odds I didn't ask to play in. Every single person I know is another entry every year, and first prize is ending up among those people that lose someone who never reappears. Sooner or later, there's a lot of people who win the grand prize jackpot they didn't know they were competing for. At seventeen the state of Oregon doesn't think I'm ready for the cut-throat world of scratch tickets and guessing lottery numbers. Turns out there's some lotteries out there that you don't need to play to win. Some people see their numbers on the television, some people have to wrestle them back from enthusiastic shop owners, and then some people take the scenic route from the bus stop and run into a wall of light and weightlessness halfway home. I grew up in a little town in the Pacific Northwest that's never been in any movies, and I hit the jackpot at seventeen years old.
Amesaya · 46.7K Views
Related Topics
More