The Storm King - Chapter 401: Night Raid II

One day, I – a high schooler – found a paperback in the hospital. The “Disease Coexistence Journal” was its title. It was a diary that my classmate, Sakura Yamauchi, had written in secret. Inside, it was written that due to her pancreatic disease, her days were numbered. And thus, I coincidentally went from Just-a-Classmate to a Secret-Knowing-Classmate. It was as if I were being drawn to her, who was my polar opposite. However, the world presented the girl that was already suffering from an illness with an equally cruel reality…

The best-selling, award-winning debut work by Yoru Sumino:

“Bestsellers 2016 (Overall) by NIPPAN” – 4th Place

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“Bestsellers 2015 (Literary Books) by TOHAN” – 6th Place

As of May 2017, this book has sold over 1.2 million copies.

In a world where Classes, Stats, and Levels are the everyday norm, Reivyn has a secret.He was unusually aware of his surroundings from an incredibly early age, and Skills and Stats were acquired easily. He was just the son of an ordinary village family, and nothing appeared out of the ordinary on the surface. But below the surface, dreams of another life help shape his mentality and growth. Why does he have some remembrance of a past life, and what is his purpose in this new one?“Soul of the Warrior” is what I call a Semi-Isekai LitRPG. I say “semi,” because Reivyn's past life is remembered like a dream, and very incomplete. It is still Isekai, though, as he remembers enough that it directly shapes his personality and his sense of self.The System that governs the world of “Soul of the Warrior” is a combination of modified versions from Selkie's “Beneath the Dragoneye Moons” and Kosnik4's “Magic Smithing.” I have changed enough of these Systems and combined them in a way that is unique that I'm mostly sure it's fine, but I still have requested permission to use these ideas. They have both graciously granted me permission.Winner of the April Writathon Challenge.

This Dark story contains raw and unfiltered mature contents. Strictly R18+. Read with caution.Ella had lost everything. After her mother’s accident, her father married someone else and pushed her aside, choosing his new family over her. Her friends slowly left, and she was left to deal with everything alone. She spent all her money to keep her mother on life support. Now, she was broke, exhausted, and barely holding on.Then Nicholas showed up.He was a stranger—handsome, confident, and calm. But what shocked her most was the marriage certificate he brought. According to him, they got married in Vegas. The problem? Ella doesn’t remember it at all.She already has too much to deal with—her sick mom, the hospital bills, and her fiancé, who has been her only support. She can’t afford to lose him now.But Nicholas won’t go away. He says he’s her husband, and he wants her to come with him. Ella feels drawn to him in a way she can’t explain. He sees through her like no one else does.She knows she should walk away. She knows she should stay with the safe life she’s trying to hold on to. But something about Nicholas pulls her in—and she’s scared he might break her in the end.TW: DOMESTIC ABUSE, MENTAL HEALTH SCENES, ROUGH SEXUAL ACTS.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”