Snippets! I.e. brief excerpts from your (or someone else's) fiction!

Continuing the good work of EnhancedBeing, ArDeeBurger, Cinn, Tim Craire and DestroyatronMk8:

Showcase a brief excerpt of something you have written recently to give a little flavour of what folk can expect from your work; or if you're here as a reader, something you've read from a chapter this week. You can share at any point during the week; Sundays are just when we update. If you have any feedback, you could leave it here or in the comment section of that chapter.

If you want to use other colours for your snippet then be mindful that users on light and dark mode will see them differently.

The rules:

📏 Keep it short! Let's say max 300 words, and you'll see outstanding snippets with far fewer than that.

🌎 If needed, add some background info to understand the excerpt.

🔗 Add a link to the specific chapter if you would like to take the reader straight to the action.

🥺 Provide any content warnings applicable to the chapter.

🤬 If there is profanity in your snippet then just for the purpose of your post, please use ****s instead. We can't enforce it of course, but just generally keep it clean as this is a more public area and it keeps us out of trouble.

☝ Only ONE SNIPPET PER POST PER WEEK PER STORY please.

📏 Keep it short! NO ALMOST WHOLE CHAPTERS, INNIT. 📏

Background: Radma is a veteran Ecuestrian of Foarut riding through the Bullicina Forest on an urgent mission when he's ambushed by Oazean soldiers.

Content warning: Violence, blood.

Chapter XVII — The Blood That Calls It Back


"Good. I've thrown off her calculation. That Oazean… his movement is clumsy from the pain. He won't put weight on that leg. Predictable."

Radma studied the lance for a moment. Without taking his eyes off the Oazean, he drew his own lance across the palm of his hand. Blood covered the tip of the lance slowly, sinking into the white metal as if the voidium were drinking it.

Without hesitating, he threw it.

The lance tore through one branch, then another, and came to rest in the Oazean's chest. He fell slowly to the ground.

"You son of a *****, I'll kill you!" a voice came from behind him.

It was the woman from before. She kicked Radma's wounded leg hard and pressed in close. Someone from the rear of the cabalce drove a dagger between the gaps in Radma's armor, piercing his back, then grabbed his arms and forced them open. His bloodied hand began to tremble.

"Finish him, sister!" the Oazean shouted.

A spray of blood hit Radma's armor.

The lance had returned to his hand, severing the arm of the Oazean holding him from behind.

"Why would I throw my weapon if I had no way of getting it back?"

--It's my first doing this so I don't know what I am doing. I just copy and pasted a part from my latest chapter--

“W-what do you mean?” Takeda asked with concern.

“I meant, sit down!” Yui commanded.

“But… there are no chairs available.”

“The floor is clean,” Yui insisted, holding her waist with two hands.

“Uhhh…” Takeda stuttered as he checked the floor. “That’s kinda—”

“Just do it! Or else I’ll make Runa change her mind!”

“Wha—” Takeda flinched in surprise, then he looked at me. I looked away. “F-fine,” he surrendered.

Takeda crossed his legs and sat on the floor. He placed his hands near his knees, closed his eyes, and took a long, deep breath. When he finally opened his eyes, a strong determination radiated from him. And it radiated so brightly that I had flinched away from it.

“Alright! Hit me with what you got!” he announced.

“Hmm… are you sure you are ready?” Yui asked while reading Takeda’s expression. She folded one arm across her chest and propped a hand under her chin, stroking an invisible beard.

“I am!” Takeda declared.

“Then answer my questions honestly!” Yui demanded.

Takeda stared at Yui intensely and nodded. But Yui wasn’t fazed; instead, she started pacing back and forth.

“What is your favorite food!?” Yui asked immediately.

“Beef—Huh? What now?”

“Don’t think! Just answer!”

“Ah… well okay, beef stew!”

“How tall are you!?”

“185 centimeters!”

“What is your favorite sport!?”

“Basketball!”

“Why do you like Runa!?”

“Because she’s pretty!”

“AHA!” Yui stopped pacing around and stood before Takeda. She pointed a finger at him as if she was trying to accuse him of a crime. “Your reason is too shallow, Watson-kun! Sounds like you’re only after Runa’s looks!”

Watson who?

Anjie returned to the table with her usual bright smile. “Can I take the finished plates?”

“Certainly,” Lurean answered before glancing toward Writ. “Are you done with yours, dear?”

“Yes.”

A conspiratorial look crossed Anjie's face as she leaned closer. “If you’re not finishing that, I call dibs. We’re technically not allowed to take customer leftovers home, but...” She grinned. “I can pack it up under your name, say you forgot it here, then ‘return’ it to you later.”

Before Writ could even process what she meant, Lurean spoke smoothly beside her.

“Then I’ll order another meal to take away. And if I just so happen to forget it here...” Her smile softened toward Anjie. “You can 'bring' it to my home later instead.”

Anjie’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes. Go ahead and place the order. Then bring me the bill.”

“Roots, thank you very much!” Anjie hurried off looking delighted, balancing the empty plates and Writ’s unfinished meal in her tray.

Writ looked at Lurean for a long moment. The older woman noticed the confusion and ignored it.

When Anjie returned with the bill, Lurean paid immediately and waved off the change. Anjie's smile somehow grew even wider.

She escorted them all the way back to the entrance, chatting all the way there to Lurean. Writ followed several steps behind, watching the exchange like an outsider observing warmth through glass.

They resumed walking once Anjie finally waved them off at the entrance.

No one here feared Lurean.

That made her more terrifying.

-- Chapter 190 - The Vines on Her Collar, Wings Between Silence 

Quote:
An old wagon squatted in the middle of the road, heaped high with broken, rotting furniture.

With a grunt, Hawk hauled back on the reins, checked the horses, then urged them straight on past it.

Colourful façades and the broad thoroughfare steadily gave way to grimy, peeling veneers, shuttered windows, and a constricting backstreet.

Night had already fallen. The clear, starry sky shimmered high above, as though viewed from the bottom of a dark gorge.

The gunslinger squinted into the gloom, her eyes darting from one side of the street to the other, searching for movement. Her fingers had begun to fidget and worry at one another, so she wrapped them around the grip of her flintlock to keep them still.

"Pretty sure we both know where this is going," she muttered, increasingly aware of her own heartbeat.

"In for a groschen, in for a thaler..." Hawk replied.

In the silence, the faint pop of the button stud on his holster sounded remarkably loud.

A sharp whistle pierced the night.

A screech followed.

Then came a rolling cavalcade of booms.

The sky exploded brilliant white, bathing the whole town in sudden light. From that stark ground blossomed a dazzling bouquet of colour, sparkling petals streaking across the heavens in azure and crimson, in emerald and gold, before fading down into the dark.

At the far end of the street, another wagon suddenly rolled into view.

It came hurtling across the road, piled high with cargo, and slammed hard against the opposite building.

The street was sealed.

Another flourish of light streaked across the sky, painting the silhouettes on the rooftops ghostly white.

A bang followed.

Dog-Eye cried out and crumpled to the ground, clutching his shoulder.

Blood streamed between his fingers.

"Ambush!"

Chapter 31: The Alarm

Ring~

A faint alarm rang out into the quiet air.

He frowned slightly out of reflex, but still refused to open his eyes.

His mind had already surfaced more than halfway into wakefulness; only his body remained sunk in the lazy comfort of the early autumn morning.

Cool air slipped through the wide-open windows. The scent of dew-damp grass mingled with the mild sweetness of ripening fruit, drifting in on the wind to fill the wide, airy room.

He breathed in deeply. Strangely, the air didn't seem to pass through his nose at all, but sank straight into his cool skin instead.

The bed was still warm. The soft blanket wrapped around him as if trying to hold him there a few minutes longer. After so many exhausting days, this moment felt peaceful enough that he didn't want to open his eyes at all.

The alarm gradually fell silent.

Quiet quickly returned, leaving only the rustle of leaves and a faint breeze drifting through the room.

Ring~ Ring~

It rang out again, more persistent, more grating this time.

He let out a soft sigh, his eyes still closed, and lazily fumbled a hand toward the head of the bed.

But… where were his fingers?

Reluctantly, he cracked his eyes open.

Sunlight flooded his vision at once. Rows of green trees swayed outside the window in the morning breeze, while the clock buzzed and rattled right at the edge of the table, a maddeningly small distance from the tip of his branch.

Irritated, he looked down at the green shape before him, at once familiar and strange. Hm... thank goodness, still there. He'd almost thought he'd broken them off in his sleep.

He reached toward the head of the bed again, his arm swaying slowly, as if water were dragging it back. An indescribable sluggishness spread through his body.

He tried to sit up, but it felt as though his back had fused to the bed.

He couldn't feel his neck joint at all.

Nor was there any rise and fall of breath in his chest.

Instead, there was only a cold, damp feeling quietly spreading upward from the surface beneath him. As if he had been buried in the earth for a very long time.

He blinked with effort, turning his gaze toward the source of the sound.

He had to get up… he was going to be late for class.

That thought surfaced very slowly, as if it had taken hours to rise up through some thick, viscous mud in his mind.

But the moment it took shape, a cold dampness threaded through the root-like things beneath his body, and it dissolved away.

....

From Owl:


Temur went silent. Dragos let him be and leaned back in his chair. He pushed away the memories that wanted to surge forward, of what had happened then, and after. When he went back.
 
Finally, after a few long minutes, Temur said, “Șolomanță. Șolomanță is gone. I’m struggling to believe it.”
 
“It’s gone,” Dragos said with a finality. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so instead he said, “But we’re still here.”

From Archive:


A shambling dragon kin lurched for her, long claws swiping the air where she’d been standing. As she spun away, I crossed the floor in a sprint.
I brought Ro’Fatoft cracking down on the thing’s head. The bones shuddered. The stink of long-decayed flesh lingered like dust in my nose.
“Jerky monster!?” Elora shook her head and backed up a step, her bow appearing in hand. “Zombiekin?”
“Dragonbee?” I suggested while kicking it in the chest.
“Zombodrag.”
An arrow flew past me to lodge in the skeletal nostril. I tore my spear from the thing’s skull as ice crackled over the split in the desiccated skin.
Its HP bar had dropped to half instantly. As long as it had nothing more than physical attacks, it was just a surprise nuisance.
“Zombodrag makes it sound like a specialty drag show, where everyone glams up zombies,” I said.

12 Days to launch on Archnemesis: Tiger vs The Eldritch Goddess:

Of all the hentai nopeness, this was a nightmare come to life.

He couldn’t help what he did next. He’d been scared before. So many times, but he’d always had enough of a mind to react; never been so terrified that he couldn’t do something. He’d faced animated rubber balls with teeth, stood face to face with incorporeal fang snakes, resolutely touched bits of dead spider hornets but this…

Ronnie shrieked like an eight year old girl with a spider in her hair.

(For context: in the system of DtW, dice can increase to higher die-type when they 'explode' or roll the highest amount, and drop back to their permanent level over time. Which means consistently using your skills can keep their 'momentum'. The character in question has magic that can heal or harm, and is styled as 'celestial', though really it's emotion magic.)

“If you still have d20 Sorcery by then.”
“Ooh **** yeah. Dirk, you’re still hurt right?” Lucienne nudged the knight, who winced.
“Yes,” he hissed.
“Ryan, babygirl, spruce him up, let’s see if you can keep the momentum.”
“You gotta stop calling me babygirl,” Ryan sighed, and laid his hand on Dirk’s shoulder, smiling.
“Might as well ask him to stop calling everyone ‘darling’ or ‘babes’, it’s just not in his nature,” Dirk said, and Ryan chuckled at that. Then he focused on the amusement, the happiness of having a team - friends. And pressed with his magic.
“Ayeee ****,” Dirk twitched away from the hand as white light flared within his plate. “I still ain’t cool with how much healing hurts.”
“Son of a *****,” Ryan growled.
“What is it?” Nuri, apparently still on guard, snapped her head back to them.
“Nothing bad it’s just… nineteen out of twenty. So close!”
“Haha, welcome to the suffering of an SGO player, darling,” Lucienne said. “Alright, all in favour of running interference on the first group of mobs we find so Ryan here can focus on laser blasting them with Church rays?”
“Can we not actively try at pissing off the Christians?” Nuri glared at him. “Trust me they do not need the help.”
“Fiiiine,” the mage sighed, running his hand over his bald head. “****, and don’t I know it? You just watch what happens the moment I can afford a dress and a wig.”
“I can imagine,” Ryan laughed. “Can’t wait to see it. Are you gonna lip-synch?”
“For my life,” Lucienne grinned back

Riko stared down at the small wound. For a few seconds, it seemed like nothing had happened. Then, the skin around the scratch began to turn a bruised, sickly dark. Her fingers started to tremble. When she tried to move her hand, her muscles barely responded.

Typhon rushed to her side. "Riko, stay with us!"

Daniel arrived a moment later, catching her just as her legs gave out. "Hey, hey—stay awake. You need to stay awake!"

Riko tried to reply, but her vision was already blurring at the edges. The poison was racing through her system with terrifying speed.

Daniel looked up at Typhon, his face pale with genuine fear. "What do we do? What are we supposed to do?"

Typhon stared at Riko’s darkening arm. Since they have come into the facility, for the first time Typhon didn't know what to do.

The snakes continued to churn through the corridor. Thousands of them remained, encircling the trio. They watched silently from every direction, none of them attacking immediately. It felt less like a hunt and more like they were waiting for something. Or someone.

Riko’s breathing grew heavy and shallow as she slumped against Daniel. Typhon clenched his fists tight.

And in that moment, a door opened. Neither Daniel nor Kyuro knew whether that door had been for the whole time, but now it was, it was time to see who has come.

Behind the door, stood a tall man with sharp eyes and rather a demonic smile for a man that looked 27. It was snake Beast. It was him, who else could've been. He was smiling, but this time, he looked genuinely interested. Who knows what had awaken inside him, but if he had not came there, then the snakes would have probably overwhelmed Daniela and Kyuro.

"I am sorry! Sorry for the inconvenience everybody! My pets are just a little hungry. They haven't eaten in a while, for no human even dares to come into this facility!" Snake beast laughed.

"Daniel, load your gun," Typhon whispered unhurriedly.

"And also, sorry for the damage too. That girl, Riko, I thought you would be rather strong than just dying in like 3 seconds!"

"Look who's saying that. The person who didn't even last a minute against two high-school students who never even knew magic!" Riko replied.

Snake beast laughed. Like he wanted to hear that.

"You have passed the test. 6 minutes 30 seconds. You're worthy of fighting me now. But look at you, little poor bastards. Crying in pain. What a fruitful sight it is! Three kids, all covered in blood. Oh my. How sad Lucien and Ryu will be when they found out three more of their students have died! By the hands of mine! And, mostly Elena, and The vessel and the bearer too! I forgot the names of two others, they will be sad too! How beautiful. HOW BEAUTIFUL!" Snake beast laughed, almost like a maniac.

"You know you can't say that without doing. I am still alive. And so does Riko and Daniel," Typhon said, gripping his fight tight. The tail behind him had disappeared. Maybe a new beast would chose him now. Atleast that was Typhon's thought.

Snake beast walked into the room, his gaze fixed at Riko. Although Snake beast was evil, for some reason he thought of someone. But, instead of letting the thought linger in his mind, he refused it to control him. Like he had always done. Refusing to let the emotions control him.

But, the bigger problem was Riko.

Daniel and Typhon knew, they have to do something, for there is no one to save them this time, and they were all alone, along, with the second biggest threat of humanity.

--------

An excerpt from The Devil : chapter 28 - How beautiful!

The first chapter of my new novel: 
I was born into an immortal family(Xianxia)


All this mimicry was happening right under Beifeng's nose, and her face began to redden with fury. She grabbed him hard by the ear and yanked him out of the water, saying, with every demon of the earth now occupying her thoughts, "*I'm* boring, you ungrateful wretch?"

 

Ling Hua turned, wishing this were a dream and that he hadn't heard that particular voice, and replied, terrified, "I— I didn't say that." The mother's fury grew at her son's blatant lie, and she snapped, "Yes, you did, you wretch!" Ling Hua's tension mounted, his words stumbling, all the confidence he'd had while imitating her evaporating. "Maybe— maybe it was the stream that said it." The mother stared in disbelief at her son's foolishness. "The stream?" He knew he'd made a mistake blaming the stream, but there was no way back now, so he said, "Yes." She replied, incredulous, barely containing her fury, "And does the stream know how to talk?" Ling Hua added, his legs now trembling and his teeth chattering, "Well— clearly it's smarter than me."

 

That was the final straw. Feng screamed, "Today I will break both your legs for this insolence — I swear nothing will save you from my hands today except the ancestor himself!" And she began striking him hard with the bamboo cane, saying, "This one's because I'm boring, and this one's because I failed to raise you, and this one's for skipping school." He began wailing, snot and tears mixing on his face. "Please, Mother, I won't do it again — I'll be a pig in my next life if I do!" When he saw his pleading wasn't working, he began calling out to his father: "Father! Save me from your wife's claws! Hurry, Father, I can't take it anymore!"

A scene from the lastest chapter of my sci-fi space opera The Book of Origin. The crew and the ship have just passed the last known charted star that was ever observed by the now extinct human kind. And not a day after the crossing, first contact happens. 


———————

She sat up so fast she knocked the cup off her console.

“Commander,” she said. And then, because her voice had gone somewhere thin and strange: “Commander.”

Ortiz was there in four steps. “Talk.”

“Contacts.” Hu’s hands were shaking, which they never did. “Bearing zero-three-four, high approach, closing. Multiple. Nine — no. Fourteen. Fourteen contacts, ma’am, under power, in formation.”

The deck went absolutely silent.

“That’s not possible,” Ortiz said. “We’re past the charts. There’s nothing out here—”

“They’re not derelicts.” Hu’s voice cracked. “They’re not drifting. They’re maneuvering. They’ve adjusted twice since I picked them up, and the second one was to match our vector, and, ma’am, they did it before we changed course, they did it as we were changing—” She looked up, white. “They saw us first. They’ve been watching. And the hull returns are wrong, the geometry’s wrong, the drive signatures don’t match anything in the archive, they don’t match anything human—”

Zane was on the deck. Nobody had seen him arrive.

“Battle stations,” he said, very calmly. “Wake the ship.”

"Lord Mayor!" exclaimed Left Thug. Or was it Right Thug? "The wall!"
Davor finally lowered the spyglass and looked in the direction his bodyguard's thick finger pointed. What he saw made him forget about the possibility of throwing up.
Not far from their vantage point, a stake of the palisade moved, apparently all by itself. There was nobody outside. No sappers to undermine it, no battering ram to shake it. Yet, it moved. Not only moved, it stretched arms and legs it definitely hadn't had this morning, cracked its neck, turning a bulky head this way and that. With a happy creak, the vaguely human-shaped tree-thing inserted a hand on both sides into the narrow gaps between the stakes, grabbed its two neighbours, gave them a good wiggle to loosen them in their places, then walked away towards the enemy camp, pulling both stakes along, raking deep grooves into the snow. The same thing happened at several other spots of the palisade, opening sizable gaps on Direburg's defences, and sending the rebels into a panic.

From A Tale of Spots and Feathers, Ch. 184: Terrible as an Army With Banners

Quote:
He looked over the troops to make sure they were all in good shape for a long mission. Brian saw Theodon and noticed that his left hand was heavily bandaged. He walked over to him and asked him about it.

“Oh, this? I chopped off part of my pinky last night.”

“What?! How in the hell did you do that?”

“With a cleaver. You see, I brought it down at just the right angle to-”

“You did it on purpose?! Why?!”

“To train my [Regeneration] ability.”

Brian started to understand why Benedict was so easy to rile up. He wanted to chew Theodon out for doing something as ridiculous as maiming himself just to level up an ability. But then a memory came to mind of he himself intentionally taking damage repeatedly from nightmare creatures during his first den solo. If he recalled, his reason was to train up his [Damage Reduction] ability. After stewing about it for a few moments, he had no choice but to smile, shake his head, and walk away.

Chapter 7 - Flogging or Favour

“Please let me explain! I’m begging you, let me explain!”

Panic took over Atlas as two members of the ship’s crew held his arms whilst Cyclops came over. He was a fearsome sailor who’d gotten his name due to the burn down the one side of his face, leaving him with only one good eye. He stopped a few paces away from him, the barbed whip hanging from his hand. Tearing open the back of his shirt, the roar of those on deck, jeering for his punishment, scrambled his mind.

“How many do you think? He is only young after all,” Bolt, the first officer of the vast vessel, asked.

“You know the rules. Part of the crew means everyone is treated the same!”

The other seaman roared fiercely at the words, causing Atlas to feel a shiver run through him. His eyes had lingered on the matted scars etched deeply into the bodies of those working on this ship; it was a stark reminder of the brutal punishment he feared would be inflicted on him. He had watched grown men nursing their wounds like helpless children, and from those painful sights, he understood all too well that he did not want what was to come.

“Please listen!” he shouted, but the noise of everyone else was drowning him out.

“Fine,” Bolt sighed, clearly not happy with the decision. “Ten lashes for disruption of the ship.”

Change of pace here. From an earlier chapter this time, and already RADIO EDITED!

—

“We were sent to retrieve the asset 2-17. If that’s not feasible… Then we need to return with the asset we have found.”

“Me,” Bo said flatly.

“You,” Eyes confirmed, with a miniscule nod.

“I don’t want to go back,” Bo asserted. It felt weak when she said it aloud.

“I probably wouldn’t if I were you, either. You’re the sole survivor of a camp massacre involving several classified subjects, one of whom the Director has a personal stake in. Your near future may not be the most pleasant time of your life. But,” he paused for a moment, “I saw what you did to that truck. And we can all see what you did here in camp. I know you didn’t mean it. But in time, you are going to be very valuable to the Department.”

“I… Don’t want to go back,” Bo repeated, fear creeping in. Everyone heard her the first time. But no one heard her the first time. She felt, rather than seen, the weak blue sparks at her fists.

“We can’t let you go.”

“You can’t be serious,” came the growling challenge.

Wolf Guy to the rescue. Took you long enough, weirdo.

“The girl is a Department asset, Remus.”

“The girl is a girl.”

“The girl,” she stated firmly, “Is Bo.”

Silence for a moment. Fire Goblin broke in, one singed eyebrow raised slightly, “Touché.”

“OK,” Eyes followed, “fair enough. Bo… Is a Department asset.”

“That’s not what she meant,” Wolf Guy snarled. Eyes assessed him.

“You can leave now,” he began, coolly. “Your role is complete. We thank you for your assistance. Your expertise has proven invaluable. You’ve successfully tracked the wrong asset to the co-ordinates we held in the first place. Truly… Exceptional.”

Wolf Guy glared for a moment.

“No,” he said, ignoring the barbs. “I think I’ll stay.”

“Your objective is over.”

“But your new objective remains live.”

He looked from Eyes, to Bo, and then back to Eyes by way of checking in on Fire Goblin. “And I don’t think I like your new objective.”

Spicy. I knew those guys didn’t like each other.

Bo had never had boys fight over her before. She thought it would feel a little nicer to be wanted. Prettier, at least.

No. Wolf Guy’s not fighting over you, Bo. He’s fighting for you.

And that did feel a little nicer. Pointless, sure; Wolf Guy had a sharp enough tongue, but following footprints with a perma-scowl didn’t seem much of a match for a psychic and a Fire Goblin. But nicer all the same. 
She hoped the tough guy knew what he was doing.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Remus,” Eyes said. “You know what this means for you.”

Wolf Guy shrugged. “Maybe. But I know what this means for her. Right now.”

He fixed Eyes with his firmest glare yet. “You’re not taking her.”

“We have to,” Fire Goblin now, noticeably more anxious now that the direction appeared clear.

He rubbed his hands nervously as his eyes flicked around the fire.

“We can’t go back with nothing.”

Eyes nodded, grateful to have his colleague back on side.

“Correct,” said, reaching into his suit and emerging with a small silver handgun.

Wolf Guy turned to Bo, his gaze still locked on Eyes. For the first time, she saw his eyes glowing red.

Oh, what the fu…

“You might want to run now.”

From "Part 1 (Promise, Verse 9)" of The Fall of the Windstriders
- A snippet of a conversation preceding the climactic showdown between a soldier and the founder of his entire warrior caste.

---

"No!" the Skyruler spat the word through a mouthful of blood and bile. He drove his blade into the mountainside and, with what remained of his strength, hauled himself upright upon it.

"As long as I stand here with a blade in my hands, I will not allow you to leave these peaks!

If you truly want the honor of ruling the Bladecaste, then you're going to have to kill me for it."

The Radiant didn't even flinch as his defiant words washed over him, only raising his brow in a bemused pause, "Bold words kinsmen! Although I am impressed by your resolve, at an age like yours it is quite a waste to risk your life over a matter so trivial. It would be a tragedy for a Windstrider as promising as yourself to end up as crippled as your Clan Lord before you reach your 80s..." The Radiant let the jest hang in the air as he bore a fatherly grin to his foe. Only for it to curdle into a frown, as he began to realize it did little to relax the severity of the Skyruler's glare. "But you are definitely wiser than you look... so tell me kinsmen, why are you so determined to interfere with our deliberations? Why are you so invested in who becomes the Blade lord of our caste?"

"Well in all honesty I really don't give a hags ass about who it is. As long as it's not you." The Skyruler began watching the Radiant's solemn expression intently as the words left his mouth.

"Really... May you tell me why that is?"

"Because I know something that my kinsmen don't: that you're a snake and a fraud— a traitor to the very oaths you founded! A man who sleeps with the devils we all swore to destroy!"

From the latest chapter of Re: Shattered Memories:
I remembered the room I was brought into. It glowed with a faint radiance. There were many men and a few women present, most wearing robes. Some wore armor. One of them stood with the emblem of a książę, a title equivalent to duke, and the robes of a judge behind a podium.

Sweat poured down my brow as I walked up. My heart beat hard in my chest. Shivers went down my spine. I bowed before these men, waiting for my judgment.

"Are you Dante Montressor?" the książę asked.

"I am...I'm sorry, but should I call you Your Honor or Your Grace?" I questioned.

"Your Honor, as I am acting as an agent of the law," he answered. "Now, I have a few questions for you, Montressor."

All eyes were on me. I nodded with grimness. Just being here made my knees weak.

"I will answer them."

And I did as much. I gave my testimony. I told the court everything that happened between me and Crummel. Nothing about Millia, and nothing about other worlds. It's not like they'd believe that. But I made it clear that I was the one who told Crummel to be more cautious. I took responsibility for my actions.

I'm having a trip outside. It's inconvenient to write a post. So I make it simple:

Quote:
“Thunderhawk. By the time you read this, you are already standing in front of Verdandi. You can see her condition. She cannot be ‘rescued.’ Her consciousness has fused with Gaia. Forcing a disconnect will kill her.

I lied to you. Operation Moonlight was never a rescue.

I told you I would create chaos at the Summit to hold down police resources and cover your breach of Olympia. You accepted. But the person truly being covered was me. Your breach was the cover I needed. I intend to do something momentous at the Summit — something that will make me immortal in the annals of history. The police presence at the Summit was already dense enough; I didn’t need you to hold anything down for me. What I needed was for you to draw away the mobile response units. The sound of your gunfire inside Olympia was my withdrawal window.

This is what I owe you in compensation: a piece of code. It’s called ‘Shackle Breaker.’ Inject it into the Gaia system. It will give her a chance at freedom — from inside Gaia. I’ve embedded an instructional video inside; I trust that the clever Verdandi will master it.

The code package also contains a small gift. I hope you won’t mind doing me a favour. You’ll know what it is when the time comes.

The choice is yours.

— Sophia.”

““Transmigrated into a meat-grinder war against endless alien swarms, a rookie Fighter gains a system that turns every kill into power—and discovers the elite armor on his back may be a death sentence in disguise.””

Content warning: Graphic Violence

Chapter 8: Ninety Seconds in Hell

Sixty seconds remaining... Ethan checked his internal chronometer.

While Criso and Gerald bound the two Grade 2 variants in lethal combat, the third Grade 2 variant—shrewder than its brethren—lowered its head and charged straight down the right flank, bypassing the Rank 3 veterans entirely! 

Its glowing red eyes were locked directly onto the four veterans guarding Captain Barry and the vault door!

"Intercept! Don't let it breach the rear line!" Levi screamed, trying to turn, but two remaining Grade 1s blocked his path, snapping their jaws viciously.

"I've got it!" Ethan shouted.
…

He planted his armored boots into the stone deck…, and threw his full weight directly into the path of the charging Grade 2 behemoth.

[ARCTECH-V VANGUARD: HYDRAULIC OVERDRIVE ACTIVATED]

Output: 120% Physical Resistance

Warning: High-Stress Load on Servo Conduits

"BRACE!" Ethan gritted his teeth, crossing his heavy mono-filament greatsword horizontally across his chest to form a lock.

BOOM!

The collision was like two starships crashing at full warp.

A deafening shockwave of displaced air and metal reverberated through the narrow corridor.

The sheer kinetic force threw Ethan backward ten feet, his armored boots carving two deep, smoking trenches into the reinforced concrete floor before he finally came to a complete halt.

WARNING: Armor Integrity at 89%. Servo Stress elevated.

Ethan’s arms throbbed with intense, biting pain, even through the suit's dampeners, but he had held! The massive Grade 2 variant stumbled backward, its lethal momentum completely arrested by the Vanguard frame's impenetrable defense.

"Nice hold, rookie!" Mike shouted...