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When To Spell Out Time In

When Time Stood Still

Haruto Takahashi was just a normal high school student in modern-day Japan—until he suddenly fell into a coma, never to age, never to awaken. His condition was as inexplicable as it was rare, a mystery shared by only a few others in all of human history. But unlike the others, Haruto eventually opens his eyes, nearly a thousand years later, to a world he no longer recognizes. Humanity stands on the edge of extinction. Alien invaders, towering and intelligent, now rule the planet, and the remnants of humankind survive only in scattered, fortified enclaves, fighting desperately against their monstrous conquerors. The Earth has become a battlefield, its skies darkened, its lands ravaged by alien plagues and relentless war. But Haruto’s awakening is no accident. He soon learns that he is the subject of ruthless experimentation, studied by those who seek to uncover the mystery of his unaging body and the secrets he unknowingly harbors. As he grapples with fragments of memories from a world long gone, Haruto is thrust into a brutal struggle, caught between warring factions and ancient mysteries that blur the line between ally and enemy. With nothing but memories of his old life and a newfound world that views him as both weapon and relic, Haruto must discover why he alone was brought back from an endless sleep—and what that might mean for the survival of those who remain. For some mysteries are better left buried, and some fates cannot be escaped.
Flyzac · 4.1K Views

When darkness falls in love

Excerpt* As Cian removed his jacket, revealing a serpent-like tattoo on his chest, a chill ran down her spine. “Who sent you?” she asked, her voice quivering as she clutched the sheets tightly around her. Cian smirked, “Which insignificant creature would dare to command me?” Confused, she glanced at the doors, praying for someone to walk in and save her from this dangerous stranger. “Then why are you here?” she managed to ask, her heart pounding in her chest. Cian casually tossed his jacket onto the nearest chair, revealing his muscular chest and the glowing, serpent-like tattoo that coiled around it. “For you, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice deep and seductive. She stared into his piercing, emerald-green eyes, awed by their luminescence. They seemed to pierce right through her, illuminating her heart and igniting a fire within her that she couldn’t quite extinguish. As Cian moved closer, he bent down to look her directly in the eyes, his gaze penetrating. “Marry me,” he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. She recoiled in horror, pushing his hand away as she tried to back away from him. “Pardon me, my Lord, but I must refuse your offer,” she said, her voice shaking with fear. Cian let out a low, sinister laugh as he pulled off his shirt, revealing the full extent of the tattoo that seemed to writhe and twist on his skin. He crawled onto the bed, pinning her down as he loomed over her. She struggled against him, trying to break free from his grip, but he was too strong. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered, “Sweetheart, what is mine is mine, and what is yours is mine.” “She froze, her heart racing as she realized the danger she was in and how ridiculously aroused she was getting. Cian, with his piercing gaze and devilish grin, knew exactly what he was doing.
Love_chi_24 · 11.5K 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 · 689.6K Views
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