My Death Flags Show No Sign of Ending - Chapter 3

WSA 2025 ENTRYIn the Grand Land of Baltalaha, the Awakening Ceremony is the most anticipated event of the year, where 15-year-olds from across the kingdoms discover their innate powers. Morvane, an orphan raised by a healer grandmother, eagerly joins the celebration with his best friends, Luna and Esmael, each dreaming of the abilities that will shape their destinies.As rulers from the six kingdoms display their awe-inspiring powers, the arena buzzes with excitement and wonder. One by one, children receive marks signifying their newfound abilities, the crowd erupting in cheers with each display of elemental magic, healing, and unique gifts.However, when it’s Morvane’s turn, silence falls over the arena. No mark appears on his shoulder. Confusion ripples through the crowd, and Morvane’s heart sinks. In a moment meant to define his future, he faces an unimaginable question: What does it mean to have no power in a world where everyone else awakens?Unbeknownst to all, Morvane’s fate is tied to a mystery that could reshape the balance of Baltalaha forever.

This is a young man who traveled to the world of Azeroth.

For love and justice (don’t become a ghoul), fear of sacrifice (you can run the corpse to resurrect), in search of lost justice and humanity (temporary discipline), don’t stop.

Festival Exercises Retrieve the story of Festival Exercises.

- Description from Ptwxz

“How can it be!”

Tang San looked at the unscathed Lu Yuan in shock, and subconsciously said what was in his heart.

“Nothing is impossible.”

Lu Yuan stood there calmly.

If a spatial ability user can’t dodge the most basic physical attack on the spot, he might as well dig a hole and bury himself.

- Description from novelbuddy

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.