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Ash Lucario Hybrid

Ash Runner

In the Ashen Reach, a cursed wasteland of black dunes and ember-storms, Torv “Ash” Kren runs alone, hauling glowing ember-shards in a battered sled. Once a raider, he quit when his crew torched innocence—now he trades magic fuel for water, machete chipped, coat patched, one job from death. An ember-storm cracks his sled—shards spill—when Lysa “Ember” Vey stumbles from the haze, half-dead, clutching a red-hot Core Ember worth a fortune or a grave. Lysa’s an ash-witch—bends shards into fire-blades, hunted by warlord Krax for a 10,000-shard bounty. She offers Torv 2,000 to run her to the Free Drift, rebel camp past the Dune Wall—or leave him dry in the sand. Torv’s gut says ditch her—warlord’s hounds close—but her ember buys time, and his Ash Runner Sense wakes: kills earn miles, power grows. They trek—raiders bleed, storms burn—Torv’s machete sings (+500 miles, Dune Dash), Lysa’s fire cuts deep. Krax’s dogs tear closer—ember-teeth glint—when the Core cracks, whispering: “Free me, claim all.” Truth hits: Lysa’s bounty’s fake—Krax wants the Core that cursed the Reach. Torv’s past crew died for it—he’s bound to the ash. Miles climb (Ash Veil, 1,000)—lungs scar, Lysa’s shard burns her grip. At the Dune Wall, Krax looms—Torv carves, Lysa flares—Core shatters, Reach shakes. Warlord falls—shards rain—but Torv’s ash-coated, Lysa’s bleeding. A new ember glows west—next run calls. Grind, fire, survival—will Torv and Lysa outrun the curse, or burn in it?
Javu_Anele · 1K Views

Hallowed Be Thy Ashes

Once, there was light. Once, there were men who believed in gods, who built their kingdoms atop the bones of the fallen and drank deep from the veins of the earth, thinking themselves mighty. But the light is gone now, and the gods have drowned in the black tide of their own deceit. The world is a vast and seething thing, its skies thick with smoke that does not rise from fire but from something deeper, older—something that has been watching, waiting, hungering. The cities stand like mausoleums, their spires reaching desperately for heavens that no longer listen. In the great courts of the nobles, the masked and the damned play at civility, waltzing on floors slick with centuries of betrayal. They are not men anymore, not truly—they are echoes, puppets pulled by unseen strings, twisting their knives in games of power that no longer matter. The kings of death, their crowns rusted and their flesh long decayed, whisper prophecies of endings even they cannot fathom. Beneath the streets, beneath the stone, beneath the very skin of the world, something writhes. The dead do not sleep here, they do not rest—they plot. They whisper in voices like cracking bone, singing hymns of ruin to deities who no longer speak, who have forgotten even their own names. And yet, their will remains, etched into the marrow of creation itself. And then there is him. He has no past, no name worth carving into the annals of history. He is not a hero, nor a villain, nor even a man—he is a force, a wound torn through the fabric of a dying world. He does not rage because he chooses to. He rages because it is all there is left. He has seen the suffering, the endless cycles of deception, of power shifting from one wretched hand to another. He has seen the gods rise and fall, has watched kings build their empires only to drown in their own excess. He does not seek to rule, nor to save—he seeks only to end. But the world is not so kind as to simply burn and be done with it. No, it fights. It writhes. It plots. There are things older than kings, older than gods—things that do not want salvation, do not want balance, but only to exist, to keep the cycle turning, to let the suffering continue because it must. They whisper in the ears of the desperate, promising power, promising escape, promising meaning where there is none. They have no faces, no forms, only presence, seeping into the hearts of men, into the bones of reality itself. And so, the game continues. The nobles lie. The kings rot. The gods stir. The dead plot. And he—he burns. But even fire is not enough to cleanse this world, for the embers do not die. They scatter, carried by winds that have no master, to be caught in the hands of the next fool who thinks they are strong enough to wield them. There is no hope. No salvation. No final mercy. Only the great unraveling, the long decay, the inevitable ruin. And the jester? The jester does not laugh. For what laughter could exist in a world that has already lost? ****
Giraffed899 · 4.6K Views

DAUGHTER OF ASH AND NIGHT

Daughter of Ash and Night In the vampire-ruled kingdom of Varneth, where humans are little more than pawns in a deadly game of power, Aliana Everan has always been nothing—an unwanted daughter, a shadow in her father’s household, a stain upon his noble name. Born to a concubine and despised by her stepmother, she has spent her life enduring cruelty in silence. But when she is falsely accused of treason and sentenced to death, fate takes a dark turn. Instead of dying, she is bound by blood to the most feared man in the kingdom—Kaelith Veyne, the forsaken prince. The firstborn son of the vampire king, Kaelith should have been heir to the throne. But his mother was a witch—an unforgivable sin in Varneth. Branded as an outcast, he was cast aside in favor of his younger, purer brother. Yet, the magic in his veins makes him more powerful than any royal would dare to admit. Now, fate has tied them together—an unwanted human girl and a cursed prince. Thrown into the treacherous world of vampire politics, Aliana must learn to navigate a court that thrives on deception and bloodlust. As whispers of war stir in the shadows, she soon realizes that being Kaelith’s mate does not mean protection—it means becoming a target. And as enemies close in from all sides, she must answer one question: Is Kaelith her salvation… or her doom? Betrayal. Blood. Power. A love that could bring a kingdom to its knees. This is the story of a girl who was meant to die, and the prince who was never meant to rule.
Favour_Adebesin · 4.1K Views

Hybrid Dominion

Paul Vaneke, a young university student, dies unexpectedly and awakens in a savage, fractured world as a hybrid of orc and barbarian—a being unlike any other. Struggling to survive as an outcast, he discovers an ancient spaceship from a lost civilization. Finding a map which led to an abandoned lab, Paul gains access to a "Last Hope System," a powerful tool that allows him to build, conquer, and evolve. From a lone survivor, he rises to become a tribal chief, then a king, and finally an emperor, uniting the fractured lands under his rule. But Paul’s rise is shadowed by a far greater threat. The Abyssals, a ruthless galactic empire from another galaxy, manipulate the world’s races—Dwarves, Elves, Beastmen, Barbarians, and Humans—through their proxies, the enigmatic Shifters. These shapeshifting agents sow discord, turning races against each other and weakening the world for eventual conquest. As Paul uncovers the truth, he must rally the divided races against their common enemy, using the Last Hope System and advanced technology to achieve his aims. With the Abyssals’ fleet en route and the Shifters infiltrating his empire, Paul faces a war on two fronts: one against the manipulated races and another against the encroaching galactic empire. In a world of shifting alliances, ancient secrets, and interstellar warfare, Paul must unite the fractured realms, Transforming it to his own Dominion while outwiting the Shifters, and stand against the Abyssals’ overwhelming might. Will he become the savior of his world, or will it fall to the machinations of a galaxy-spanning empire?
Pioneer24 · 8.5K Views
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