MTL - Dragon Who Controls Time - Chapter 413 Garen: The seventh-level scepter is destined for my Longting

The archaeologist “red-haired witch” made too big of a disturbance while excavating tombs, gloriously becoming a martyr in the midst of the grave chamber’s collapse. Seventeen years later, she had transmigrated into the Five Regions Continent. The delinquent Meng Fuyao who struggled to survive in the lowest rungs of society, cast aside her boyfriend who was about to marry another person with a slice of his five fingers.

[MATURE CONTENT]Arella is an angel.Well, she used to be an angel. A real, bona fide, halo-wearing, wing-flapping celestial being. That was until one tiny whoopsie where she unfortunately burns a pair of wings at a banquet happens.Fine!There was more than one tiny whoopsie.Fast forward a few hours later, and Arella found herself booted from the pearly gates with nothing but her wings and an eviction notice.Her family called it a “vacation.” Ha! A vacation, in the human realm of all places!One hundred years later, Arella calls it her new life. Turns out, living among humans isn’t half bad—especially when you can turn invisibly smug at their lack of ability to fly. Early retirement has never been so blissful. That is, until the heavens smack her face with a message: Arella’s back on duty. And her new job? Marry. The. Demon. King.Wait, what?!Marrying the Demon King isn’t exactly on Arella’s bucket list, especially when demons and angels have been sworn enemies for eons. But orders are orders. So, off she goes, wings drooping and attitude cranked to full sass, to meet her new husband—a devilishly handsome demon who seems unnervingly smitten with her.Not to mention the heat that surges within her the moment she lays her eyes on him. Cue in dinner dates, fiery arguments (literally), and a series of catastrophes involving Arella purposefully setting a demon's hair ablaze with her holy fire.But as Arella settles into this bizarre celestial-demonic union, she uncovers a sinister plot that threatens not just her marriage but their entire reality. Turns out, angels and demons might have to join forces to stop a threat that neither side can handle alone. And Arella? She might just be the unexpected key to saving everyone.Armed with nothing but her quick wit, trusty angelic powers, and a painfully doting husband who may or may not leave her love notes carved into rock when she is angry, Arella must navigate battles, betrayals, and the occasional marital spat to protect their world. After all, nothing says “happily ever after” like saving existence itself, .... right?Right?One fallen angel. One absolutely smitten demon king. And a whole lot of chaos.

I didn’t know this was a world inside a game. And I didn’t know my master was a mid-boss. “No way… wasn’t she supposed to self-destruct because of her personality?!” …I’m sorry.

Every hero starts with power. He started with dust.One moment, the classroom buzzed with teenage chatter. The next, silence fell. Students blinked—and opened their eyes in an ancient hall carved from gold and marble. The air shimmered with divine magic. And at its center stood a goddess—flawless, proud, unbelievably beautiful and wrapped in flowing white.It was a divine summoning performed by a divine goddess.Among them was Vritra… and his stunningly beautiful mother.While others received blessings, powerful physiques and grand titles, Vritra was given a skill so pathetic it made even the goddess wrinkle her nose. An ability—so pitifully weak that it drew laughter, scorn, and even disgust. But that wasn't the worst part.Betrayed and cornered inside the labyrinth, Vritra had two choices: die… or fall into the death trap.A death canopy with no exit and no chance of survival, the only option was to slaughter the demons endlessly for months.Finally!! He forced his dormant skill to awaken, after killing thousands and hundreds of thousands demons and devouring them, becoming a broken ability.******White robes. Cold arroganceA sinful revenge.White robes can stain. And in the dark, even divinity can moan.And then there was his mo— guilt in her breath, shame in her eyes, whispering apologies between gasps in her son's ear, doing what had to be done… for both their sakes.