Dorothy's Forbidden Grimoire - Chapter 85: Lockdown

You’d think seeing the future would give me a head start on surviving the apocalypse. I had it all planned—until everything I knew shattered when my husband sacrificed himself to save me and our son. Now it’s just me, my three-year-old son Leo, and my cursed gift of foresight that only seems to kick in when it’s nearly too late.I’m doing my best to keep us safe, to find food, to make some kind of plan—“Mommy?”I glance down, trying to ignore the tug on my pant leg as I focus on our supplies. “Not now, Leo. Mommy’s thinking.”“Mommy!”I sigh and finally look down. My three-year-old is standing there, clutching… I blink. “Leo, where did you get a knife?”He shrugs, grinning like it’s the most natural thing in the world.My heart stutters. “No, really. Where did you find that?”I try not to laugh. I mean, he’s three. Maybe he just—found it somewhere? But the next day, it’s a water bottle. Then, a tiny flashlight, somehow with batteries still inside.I don’t even know what else; he’s pulling things out one by one with the pleased grin of a kid who’s just figured out his favorite game.Well, we may just survive this mess after all.Now, if only the universe could have spared me from him. I don’t even know his name, but I know his type: tall, broad, and annoyingly handsome, with an air of calm control that’s out of place in this chaos. Ex-military, if I had to guess, with a voice that’s just as infuriating as his smirk. The man has a habit of showing up at the worst—or best—possible times, with a gun at the ready and secrets buried as deep as those bright green eyes.I mean, he’s probably useful, but I’m trying to keep my eyes on the prize here: survival.For Leo and me.Because, foresight or no foresight, nothing is guaranteed in this new world—except the fact that people like him are trouble.

What's the book about? It is about Demonic Cultivation!, If you cannot handle it, Please don't read it.Synopsis:When Song Wen killed the frail beggar who fought him over food and consumed his blood and soul, every cell in his body leaped with excitement. His spirit was exhilarated, and he realized then that his life would henceforth be filled with slaughter. For survival, for longevity, he would spare no effort, even if it meant creating mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

A silhouette of a man standing upon a boulder with the crescent of the moon shining behind him.

A kukri dripping with blood in one hand and a pistol in the other.

The image of burning flames surrounding him.

The countless mercenaries screamed as they saw this scene.

“It’s a demon!”

I reincarnated as the wife of the cursed archduke in my own twisted novel.

As the author, I have a responsibility to fix this novel.

I have lifted the curse, which is the main problem of this story.

I thought my job was done. But when I was trying to go back, the archduke asked me, “Did you really think I wouldn’t know that you’re planning on returning to your fiance?”

‘My fiance?’

What I’m gonna do? He completely misunderstood the situation!

All I want is for him to please let me go home!