Blacksmith vs. the System - Chapter 139

On one spring evening when I was eight years old, I, Erica, Duke of Aurelia’s daughter, realized something.

On the surface, he was striking and dashing, an object of envy and resentment from all men, but in secrecy, he was the formidable figure that made powerful leaders tremble. A marriage contract had brought him back to the city,In the bustling metropolis, a man fierce and enigmatic like a tiger, watch as he forged his own legend!

Nicholas Marjan, known as Niels, was an Asian football-obsessed loner in the modern world. A master of FIFA Career Mode, addicted to YouTube tactics videos, and followed every twist of the transfer window like it was life or death, he lived the beautiful game from behind a screen.Until the day he died.And woke up in the late 2000s, in the body of a once-promising young player at a lower-league English club. A player whose career had been cut short by a brutal ACL injury. With his playing career over before it could truly begin, his second life offers no glory on the pitch.But Niels still has one weapon: his mind.Armed with future knowledge of football's evolution, and guided by a mysterious, almost cheat-like instinct for scouting raw talent, Niels steps into the world of coaching. As an assistant at a struggling lower-league club, he begins to reshape the team from within challenging outdated tactics, unearthing hidden gems, and reigniting hope in the dressing room.His methods are unorthodox. His instincts, uncanny. And soon, whispers about the “young coach with a gift” begin to spread.This isn’t the story of a player chasing glory. It’s about someone reborn to change the game from the sidelines. From forgotten training grounds to Europe’s biggest stages, Niels is on a mission,not just to win, but to rewrite what it means to lead.He once dreamed of lifting trophies as a player.Now, he'll do it as a coach.

[COMPLETE] Can a royal Romeo and Juliet find their happy ending?

Ayleth, Princess of Zenithra, is secretly trained in hand-to-hand combat, and collects swear words she doesn't know how to use. During the Festival of Peace, in which every royal son on the continent will be at the castle for a month, she is instructed by her parents to find a husband. Yet, Ayleth has never even been kissed—until the very first ball, when she meets the man in the Lion mask.

Etan is a seasoned warrior, and the Prince of Summitras. He attends the Festival hoping to find a powerful wife who will help him conquer the dark sorcery of their bloodsworn enemies, the Kingdom of Zenithra. But at the very first ball, he discovers the masked woman who captures his heart is the Heir to the evil empire.

Ayleth and Etan face an impossible battle. Will their love survive? Or will their parents' dark dealings keep them apart forever?

[Mature content. No sexual violence.]

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“You…” She stepped back. Then back again, her mouth dropped open. “You… You cannot be…”

“I am,” Etan said, and his hair raked back as he pushed his mask off his handsome face. So handsome her heart raced.

His hair was ebony black, his skin a warm brown that threatened to fade in in the winter months. He stared at her with glittering green eyes, over high cheekbones and a noble nose, his jaw tight and shadowed this late in the day. His chin was high over the pillar of his neck that she’d just touched with its hard lines and steel strength, so different to her own. And his chest... She gasped and covered her eyes. She’d humiliated herself revealing her stupid, childish curiosity.

“No, Ayleth. This changes nothing.”

“How can you say that? It changes everything!” She was horrified to realize she was crying.

“Ayleth, please.” His voice cracked on the plea and she stared at him, shoving her mask up and off, despite how it would pull her hair out of the beautiful twist the maid had managed for her.

His eyes locked on hers and she couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe.

She had met her One. And he was the son of her bloodsworn enemy.

She stared at him as he stepped forward again, offering both hands, palm up. “Touch me,” he whispered. “Hold my hands. This is real, Ayleth. I don’t know how it happened, but this is real. Please don’t deny it.”

She couldn’t resist. She raised a trembling hand to his cheek, letting her palm catch on the scruff of his jaw. He blew out a breath and put his hand over hers, and that jolt that happened whenever they touched shivered through her again.

“Please, Ayleth.”

“I cannot deny it,” she whispered.