24 Hearts - Chapter 1

William Valehart was the absolute—supreme god of all existence. He ruled not a world, not a galaxy, but everything. Unbound by time, space, or death, he was omnipotent, eternal… and alone.By his own will, he sealed away his infinite power and chose to reincarnate. Not in defeat, but in search of something more. He boarded a world-sized ship and cast himself into the unknown, embracing mortality.He died—and awoke again.Reborn in a new universe, aboard the same titanic vessel, William finds himself in Urenus, a galaxy far larger and richer than the Milky Way. It’s here that a portion of humanity—just 5 to 8 percent of its population after conquering over half the Milky Way across millennia of war—has arrived through a now-vanished wormhole. Cut off from the rest of their civilization, they’re stranded, under siege, and barely holding out.Urenus is not unclaimed. Native civilizations, empowered by mana and superior numbers, have rallied against the human invaders. Advanced mech pilots are humanity’s last hope—warriors who push past mortal limits—but they are too few to win.That’s when William Valehart intervenes.With fragments of his sealed power awakening and his god-ship still under his control, he saves a human fleet from destruction—and learns of their fragile, desperate stand.He makes a choice.Not as a god who demands worship.Not as a savior bound by duty.But as a force reborn—who will fight beside them, reshape the war, and carve a place in this new universe.Because he can

Have you ever wondered what a character in a novel or in a game should be?

Do they eat? Sleep? Do they have their own life when you are not reading or playing?

They do not.

When you are not doing anything, we stay still.

To be fair, think about your own life. Is it different from a game without a system? You can not see behind your back, similar to how a character has to render it in a game.

But at least, you have your own life.

While I have to watch the protagonist of the novel find his way into the pants of the female leads.

This is my destiny.

I'm not jealous. Not at all.

At nineteen, Dexter was already one of the world’s most celebrated authors. His books topped charts. Critics praised his genius. Fans devoured every word. But behind the acclaim was a lonely boy—raised without parents, love, or real friends—just stories.He published his first novel at fourteen. By seventeen, he was a literary star. But the higher he rose, the hollower it felt.Then came the writer’s block. The headaches. The blackout. And the transmigration.Dexter awoke in the body of Daylan, a disgraced young man in a crumbling, medieval world laced with steampunk tech, divine law, and political unrest. Daylan had already failed two of the three sacred Trials—rites that determine one’s magical potential. He was drowning in debt, entangled in plots to overthrow a corrupt Divine Church, and branded a lost cause.With no way back, Dexter took the final Trial—the most brutal of them all—and began a path that would earn him the whispered title: Soldier, Poet, King.But as his powers grew, one question haunted him: Did he truly die? And if so, who—or what—chose to bring him back?

Yun Yuwan carelessly lost Wen Yangzhi's letter, but the foreign butler assured her with certainty, “That was a love letter.”She had been secretly in love with Wen Yangzhi for many years, and upon learning it was a love letter, she returned home overnight.Clutching the hope that he also liked her, she began to respond.At the dinner table, he said, “Come sit here”She ended up sitting on his lap, dressed in suit pants.When he renovated his newly bought villa, she playfully said she didn't like the crystal chandeliers.Some time later, his assistant told her:The letter Wen Yangzhi had sent was not a love letter at all, but a nine-figure check, intended as a birthday gift.The assistant laughed distantly, “Director Wen can't even be bothered to buy gifts, how could you think he liked you, Miss Yun?”—Long afterward, when Yun Yuwan brought up the incident with shame,Wen Yangzhi didn't reply, he just sparked his lighter, a tiny flame dancing on his handsome face, appearing indifferent and aloof.He never said it wasn't a love letter,Not all love letters contain sweet nothings,At least Wen Yangzhi's didn't.He wouldn't do something so cheap and insincere.Knowing that the men who approached her were after her money.He simply wanted to tell her.Her bit of money, he didn't care for it.—A nine-figure check expires in ten days, I've waited for you for ten years, undying affection still clouds my senses.—Self-loving, beautiful heroine x man whose bark is harder than his biteIndependent brand florist x pioneering bankerTheme: Adults don't deal in pretense