2000 Years Of Magic History In My Head - Chapter 102: Incompetence (2)

In the Heart’s Kingdom, a kingdom where vampires reign and humans were nothing but livestock, Lilou, a peasant, found herself being preyed upon by the worst maniacal vampire of his kind. However, as terrifying as what he addressed her as his ‘reserved meal’, this vampire also called her his bride!

Except:

My eyes brood with fear, gazing at the still-beating heart in his hand. “My Lord, pardon me but… is this the bloody proof you promised to show me?” I asked, my voice shook as I gulped down whilst struggling my trembling knees from giving away.

“Mhm… do you now believe I’m good at capturing hearts?” The silver-haired man, bearing those menacing pair of deep crimson eyes stared proudly at me after a nod. I gasped when he clenched his hand and squeezed the fresh heart to smithereen.

“Yes, milord. You’re good at it, literally.” I’m mortified, watching the pieces of the heart fall as he approached. His every step made me take a step back until my back reached a solid pillar.

“Huh,” Samael chuckled briefly, stopping in front of me. His long, pointy nails that were covered with blood traced my elbow down to my hand. Gently, he clipped my forefinger in between his, guiding it before his lips. “Did I pass your test, though?” He asked, the sharp tip of his nail played over the tip of my finger.

I stared at his penetrating gaze as I reluctantly answered, “Barely.”

He smirked, nodding in satisfaction before he pressed his nail on the tip of my forefinger that was quick to produce a drop of blood. “Such sweet aroma.” He whispered, placing my bleeding finger in his mouth and licked it with passion.

His menacing gaze never left mine as he consumed a bit of my blood. “Does that mean you’re accepting my invitation?” Keeping my finger in between his fangs, Samael inquired.

I bit my lower lip unconsciously, my heart within my chest drummed as my back broke into sweats. “But… I’m just…” I paused, hoping my answer would put an end to this. “… I’m just a human.”

Samael clicked his tongue, displeased at my response as he let my finger go. “No,” He whispered.

My entire body stiffened when he bent over, caressing my shoulder up to my neck by the apex of his nose, as his hot breaths prickled my skin.

“You're not just a mere human... you are my human.” He stressed before I sensed his lips part and the tip of his fangs against my skin.

For as long as records about humanity and monsters existed, so did the tower of ascension.

Those amongst men who were chosen to enter the tower were given the tag 'Climber' and were worshipped as warrior's who had transcended mere mortals.

Rocky, who had aspired to be a Climber for as long as he could remember, found his dreams and nightmares merging on the very day he was endowed with powers as the very day that he got selected as a climber became the day when his sister was abducted, ensnaring him in a web of conspiracies that spiralled far beyond his wildest imaginations.

Bound by a system not meant for him, Rocky gained unparalleled power and attention that came with his position as the 'Champion' of gods, however, without the strength to back his position, he became an easy prey for envious vultures.

In this tale of ambition, power, and vengeance, Rocky's journey through the Tower of Ascension promises not just answers to his darkest questions, but a confrontation with his own nature.

Will he emerge as the saviour he never intended to be, or will he succumb to the darkness within, becoming the very villain he fears?

This is a story of how the line between hero and villain blurs when faced with the ultimate stakes, making Rocky's ascent a thrilling saga of survival, betrayal, and desperate choices.

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Let someone else go to war, you, lucky Austria, go get married! What the god of war can give you, the god of love can also give you.

The smoke of the Napoleonic Wars has dissipated, and the Vienna system that once brought peace to Europe is riddled with holes. Beneath the seemingly peaceful appearance, there is a vortex of the times with undercurrents, the tranquility before the storm.

The air is filled with the steaming mist of sweat, and the choking black smoke makes it hard to breathe. On the elegant dining table, a group of soldiers and fat men in suits are pushing each other, feasting on the feast called the world, hanging on the wall Van Gogh’s self-portrait with waltz in his ears.

Suddenly the music turned into a march, and the picture also turned to the battlefield. Soldiers marched in a neat line, walking towards the machine gun barbed wire.

A shell fell on the ground, and after the smoke passed, countless cavalry rushed to the artillery position.

Accompanied by a loud noise, a wooden plane flew close to the ground, then pulled up rapidly, broke through the clouds, and shone brightly.

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