MTL - Doom Lord - v2 Chapter 850 Surrounded

Nova scrambled backwards, panting hard, her short locks clinging to her damp forehead as she watched this predator stalk towards her. The vibrant and lively forest hushed, almost holding its breath to watch the scene unfold. Great, she had an audience for what would surely be a gruesome death.Death looked... a little... rugged and in nothing but a loin cloth, defined by slabs of muscle, a trail of hair leading down to such a small piece of cloth to hide a large-A spine-chilling growl snapped her gaze back up to meet his golden-red eyes, fiery, and intense, glaring at Nova as he slammed his hands either side of her head. Pieces of bark crumbled down from the impact.“I told you not to run...” He threatened, his eyes piercing hers, his voice more guttural than she'd heard from any male. His eyes clenched shut as his body trembled. “My instinct is to always stalk, always chase... until I get what I want..”Their faces were inches apart. She could feel his hot breath fanning her face. The forest was humid and hot, and his body was so close to hers that it was almost unbearable. The gruff voice, those words and the intensity of those eyes that reminded her of sunsets caused goosebumps to flourish across her arms.“What do you want?” Nova swallowed, not recognising her voice. She was so out of her depth. His chest rumbled, and more bark crumbled down from behind her head.“You...”Her breath hitched.“To. Do. As. You're. Told.”Paradise was what Nova Winslow was promised when her boyfriend whisked her away to Isla De Tayun, the perfect getaway for their busy lives. It was untouched, pristine, a hidden gem.But it had remained that way for a reason. The island doesn’t want visitors. And neither do the natives.What should have been a romantic retreat, drinking from coconuts and lounging on white-sandy beaches together, turns into a holiday from hell.Mid-argument with her soon-to-be ex, Nova stumbles into a lake. When she resurfaces, her boyfriend, the path she came from, and the resort have vanished.Alone, stranded, and with little survival skills, Nova has only a wet phone with no signal, a pair of heels, and an irrational fear of bats—which are everywhere. She is out of her depth when she falls into a mystical world of beasts.Hunted by tribesmen, stalked by beasts that shouldn't exist, and hearing animals speak, she has no choice but to trust the wild beast the forest itself fears—Yoa, a wanted man. Together, they flee the tribes pursuing them all while battling her growing attraction to Yoa.Can she survive the wild and make it back to her civilised life? Or will she lose herself to the untamed world—and to the man who belongs to it?

There are three realms in the multi verse; The Cosmic, the Mortal and the Nether realm.

Hal grew up in the mortal realm with no idea whatsoever of who his parents were.

His love for relics, adventure and the occasional danger would aid him in finding a genie's lamp.

Rubbing a genie's lamp should grant three wishes, but Hal is struck by lightening instead and eventually arrives in the Cosmic realm with a large book in his mind space titled; The Primordial Cosmic Grimiore, that apparently holds all knowledge for a perpetual reign.

And so Hal's journey begins in a little city called Salmon city, in the body of a 17 year old boy also named Hal but was sold into slavery by his own father.

Hal finds out who his mother (prior to reincarnation) whose bloodline now flows unmixed in his new body is....

Join Hal as he battles mortals, Dragons, phoenixes, Gods and many more together with his harem of Beauties for the complete subjugation of the three realms.

I can see ghosts.Even the ghosts inside games.But then…”Ah! Not there, over that way! My family heirloom is hidden there.”The ghosts in the game keep revealing hidden pieces to me.

Let someone else go to war, you, lucky Austria, go get married! What the god of war can give you, the god of love can also give you.

The smoke of the Napoleonic Wars has dissipated, and the Vienna system that once brought peace to Europe is riddled with holes. Beneath the seemingly peaceful appearance, there is a vortex of the times with undercurrents, the tranquility before the storm.

The air is filled with the steaming mist of sweat, and the choking black smoke makes it hard to breathe. On the elegant dining table, a group of soldiers and fat men in suits are pushing each other, feasting on the feast called the world, hanging on the wall Van Gogh’s self-portrait with waltz in his ears.

Suddenly the music turned into a march, and the picture also turned to the battlefield. Soldiers marched in a neat line, walking towards the machine gun barbed wire.

A shell fell on the ground, and after the smoke passed, countless cavalry rushed to the artillery position.

Accompanied by a loud noise, a wooden plane flew close to the ground, then pulled up rapidly, broke through the clouds, and shone brightly.

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