Emperor's Reckoning - Chapter 8: My Date My Revenge

Isabella was supposed to be sipping champagne at a luxury spa, not waking up in the middle of a forest. Worse, a SYSTEM had attached itself to her like some clingy ex, spouting nonsense about survival, quests, and—oh, hell no—manual labor.“System, I was NOT built for the wilderness! My ideal ‘roughing it’ experience involves a five-star hotel with bad WiFi!”Now, instead of lounging in silk robes, she’s being ordered to farm? To hunt?“A farming quest? You want me—a city girl—to grow food? System, I once killed a cactus by overwatering it. This is NOT my calling!”And don’t even get her started on the hygiene situation.“You want me to bathe in a cold river? Darling, I require warm water, scented oils, and an ambience! What do I look like—some barbarian?!”Unfortunately, the locals—big, muscular beastmen—don’t seem to understand the concept of self-care. The women? Neglecting their skin like it’s a crime to be radiant. The men? Walking hygiene disasters.“Ladies, if your man can smell you before he sees you, we have a problem.”“You see this? This is lotion. It exists so you don’t look like a dried-up leaf. Use it.”“A beard should be majestic, not tragic. Let me fix it.”And the beastmen? They don’t just stare at her like she’s an oddity. No, they hover. They smirk. They lean in too close, fangs flashing with amusement.“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she huffed, crossing her arms.The panther grinned, his tail flicking. “Because you’re fascinating when you’re annoyed.”No, absolutely not. She was not here for this nonsense.“If you have time to stare, you have time to moisturize.”She didn’t ask to be here. She didn’t ask to be their savior. But if she has to suffer through this world, she’s making everyone around her suffer less—through skincare, style, and some serious attitude.“If I hear one more ‘We don’t season our food here,’ I’m launching a war.”“If you have time to gossip, you have time to do squats.”“You want to impress a woman? Start with not smelling like the battlefield.”Survival isn’t just about fighting monsters; it’s about looking good while doing it. So what if the System keeps throwing impossible quests her way?“What do you mean ‘you can’t skip quests’?! Since when?! Where is the skip button?! I demand a skip button!”But somewhere between dodging ridiculous quests and fixing these people’s tragic grooming habits, Isabella found herself in situations. Uncomfortable, heart-racing situations.Like being trapped against a tree by the red python, his red eyes half-lidded as he murmured, “You talk too much, little star. Should I silence you?”Like waking up with the lion lord’s fur-lined cloak draped over her shoulders, his deep voice gruff, “You shiver in your sleep. I’ll fix that.”Like the phoenix watching her every move, his burning gaze searing into her skin as he mused,“You cause chaos wherever you go, but I find that I don’t mind.”Oh, hell. No. She was not about to fall for four beastmen. She was too pretty for this much stress.“If you insult me again, I’ll make sure your soul needs a beauty upgrade.”“I refuse to be disrespected by anyone who dresses like an unwashed tree branch.”And yet, when a rival tribe came to challenge her, when danger lurked too close, those same beastmen stood beside her—smirking, taunting, fighting for her.“A beastman growled at me today. I growled back. He ran. I am the alpha now.”Isabella isn’t just surviving. She’s thriving. And this world better keep up.

A princess's duty is to be beautiful, quiet, not loud, to be seen and not to be heard, which was how Dahlia lived most of her life. Bound by the expectations of her title, she spent years trying to prove to her father that she was more than just a princess and capable of being more than an ornament in his court but each time she never got the chance. Instead, she was forced into a marriage of convenience with the bravest knight in all the kingdom, Reagan Hawthorne.Dahlia thought she would use this marriage to escape the brutal crutches of her father and glide out of her cage but Reagan’s cold disdain was an unexpected prison of its own. While he waged wars on distant lands, she stayed behind, holding his household together and protecting the people he seemed to ignore. But Dahlia carried a dangerous secret. By day, she was the perfect wife. By night, she became the “Black Knight,” a masked vigilante fighting for justice in the shadows.Reagan returned, ready to focus on his personal mission: avenging his father’s death. To him, Dahlia was just another pawn in his plans—a spoiled princess he needed to tolerate. But as cracks began to form in her perfect façade, Reagan couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his wife than met the eye.Now, with enemies circling closer and their secrets threatening to collide, Dahlia and Reagan must confront the lies they’ve told themselves and each other. But when masks fall and truths are revealed, will their fragile bond withstand the storm—or will it shatter beyond repair?One wound. One secret. One night that changes everything.

Humanity has conquered half the galaxy and the Age of Mechs reigns supreme!Ves Larkinson lacked the genetic aptitude to become a famed mech pilot. Fighting against his fate, he studied mech design in order to express his love for mechs as a builder instead of a soldier.When Ves graduated from college, he returned to a new but empty boutique. Left with a small, newly founded mech workshop that his father painstakingly built with a mountain of debt, Ves somehow needs to make ends meet with the bank breathing down his neck.In the midst of his despair, he found salvation from another legacy his father had left."Welcome to the Mech Designer System. Please design your new mech."--Join The Mech Touch's unofficial Discord server: https://discord.gg/APB5KCU

We attend school, find love, work, buy a house, pay our housing loans, insert weird faces in WeChat, watch movies… do any of you find anything amiss? One day, a group of strange people entered this world, equipped in strange clothing and possessing extraordinary powers, cold-blooded killers! They call themselves [Players].