The team was doing target month on month basis and inventory was under control but the lion was anxious. He thought he had disbursed the less target to its employees. He was worried to fix the right target. So he called a meeting. A mail was dropped to the subordinates the leopard and the cheetah. They were instructed to prepare the complete data of investment and sales on excel. They were advised to keep their inputs in notes to improve work efficiency and sales so that they can be discussed in the meeting. Both leopard and cheetah sat together and prepare the complete presentation and draft a 20 point note to discuss in the meeting. The meeting was started with a warm welcome and motivating lecture. It was continued until lunch. In the post-lunch session, the lion started detailing the expectation of the company. Both leopard and cheetah were alert to discuss the matter but lion continues until tea. After tea, the lion gave a hint that the target would become double. Cheetah resisted it and leopard supported him. It provoked the lion. He roared loudly and it scared both of them. They tried to argue and lion tried to suppress them. In the end, deal fixed and it was 1.5 times. Both leopard and cheetah took a sigh of relief that anyhow they managed to get the best possible target but they had to face the real problem and it was to convey this message down the line. So they discussed and decided to call a meeting. They wrote a mail to down the line. The team were instructed to prepare the complete data of investment and sales on excel. They were advised to keep their inputs in notes to improve work efficiency and sales so that they can be discussed in the meeting. MORAL OF THE STORY: The literary meaning of the discussion with the boss is to listen to the speech of the boss carefully, to understand the meaning of his language and to accept the target given by him.

Each of us heard some famous stories which teaches us the moral value. Does these moral values help in corporate culture?
just read few of them in new style.

Each of the fifteen states comprising the Water Kingdom Alliance possessed its own army token. On top of being low-grade Holy Artifacts, those army tokens allowed the owner to freely dispatch state troops, granting absolute control over the generals and armies.

Moreover, the great generals all possessed lesser tokens that allowed communication with the main token holder and facilitated orders.  

To strengthen the alliance king's control over the various states, all the tokens remained in his hand. Without them, even the various state rulers couldn't dispatch their troops.

For tens of thousands of years, this practice carried on. Once those tokens fell into the Holy Flame Empire's delegates' hands, the title of alliance king served no purpose and Ernst could immediately pledge his allegiance as a perpetual vassal. 

Unwilling. 

He was unwilling!

How could a monarch possibly surrender his authority in such a humiliating manner? However, as Konrad's piercing, purple eyes nailed him, he didn't doubt that should he falter, his life was in jeopardy.

Rage and indignation welled up within his chest. And though he wished to challenge Augusta's suggestion at all cost, he didn't dare! Ultimately, his life was, to him, more valuable than his pride.

With several wobbling steps, Ernst walked by Augusta to stop before Konrad.

*Thud*

And dropped on his knees while extending his still trembling hands toward him. 

In a light haze, a plate appeared on his palms, on top of that plate, fifteen bronze seals rippling with Holy force stood. A silver key then appeared amidst the seals.

"I' m…guilty of failing to manage my state and…almost causing the protector harm. I hereby…surrender the fifteen states' army tokens to…the Holy Flame Empire and…offer you free access to our state treasury. 

I…also beseech you to not pursue this matter."

Ernst stammered, the words depleting all his body's strength. 

Seeing their house's master and monarch surrender in such a wretched way, the von Gradl kinsmen and women were full of shame. But since things had reached this point, surrender was indeed the only road to survival.

Alas, they'd underestimated Konrad's appetite.

"Insufficient."

That word flabbergasted all the members of house von Gradl, and the stammering king's eyes rose toward those overbearing purple hues that nailed him from above.

"What more…could you possibly want?"

With a wave of his hand, Konrad brought the fifteen tokens and treasury key into his emerald bracelet.

"Surrender your royal seal."

Ernst's eyes widened in disbelief. If the army token was half the king's authority, the royal seal was the other half. Only the royal seal guaranteed that edicts couldn't be falsified. Without it, not only could he not send edicts by proxy, but whoever held it could draft them in his name.

Moreover, it was a mid-grade Holy Artifact!

Without it, at best, his authority as king couldn't go beyond the city. At worst, it would be restrained to the royal palace!  

Offering it was no different from abdicating his throne. 

How could he accept it?!

"You can't go too…"

However, before he could struggle, Augusta's voice boomed within his mind.

"Surrender it! At this juncture, we must be decisive. If you falter, we perish."

Forced back into reality by his wife's words, Ernst bit his lower lips till blood spilled and trickled down his chin.

Still, recalling Konrad's dreadful pressure, he couldn't resist, and the Royal Water Seal, an ocean blue serpent seal, appeared on the plate. Konrad took it into his hand, then turned toward one of the high-level Semi-Saint delegates.

"Draft and send royal edicts to the fourteen other state rulers, ordering them to join us in the royal palace within twenty-four hours for a grand summit."

"As you command, protector!"

Immediately, the Semi-Saint gathered paper and ink to draft the decrees and seal them with the Royal Water Seal. He then deferentially returned it to Konrad.

Seeing his fears proven right at such a fast pace, Ernst almost collapsed. Only the belief that house von Gradl's strongest elders would definitely cooperate in snatching back those items filled him with hope.

"Just you wait, if I can't repay you a thousandfold, my name isn't Ernst von Gradl!"

But while he made his inward pledge, Konrad's eyes fell back on him. And assailed by its intensity, Ernst felt as if Konrad completely saw through him. His righteous indignation was thus replaced by a new current of fright.

Startled, he fell onto his rear. 

"Like father, like son. 

Ruler in name, waste in spirit."

Konrad stated, making Ernst wish he could dig a hole to hide himself. 

He then swept his sleeve, turned heels, and walked toward the exit. Led by Krann, the delegation members followed suit, leaving behind the shocked von Gradl kinsmen and women. 

Seeing Ernst's pitiful state, Augusta shook her head. How was this a man? Clearly, that husband of hers was nothing more than a coward who only knew how to keep his back straight before the feeble.

Just a gaze from a mightier being was enough to make him cower on his rear.

Compared to that delegation protector…well, they couldn't be compared at all. Were it not for her status and her daughters' being bound to him, what need would there be to care for his life?

With a sigh, she turned toward Lena who suppressed any show of frustration.

"I have a task for you. If you can excel, perhaps all is not lost."

Lena's eyes flashed with a strange light, and without shifting her gaze from Konrad, she replied:

"What is it?"

"Though mighty, that protector's strength cannot surpass the True Origin Saint level. Otherwise, the holy emperor would never send him here to serve as his adopted son's protector. Even if he wished to make a show of force, he would not dispatch an elder whose cultivation approached or surpassed his.

Therefore, this is not a situation that we cannot handle. But the premise is that we can snatch him from the Holy Flame Empire and keep him here!"

Lena's eyes shone with understanding.

"You want me to…seduce him?"

"Yes! Use any trick at your disposal to make him desire you. When he does, thinking of how he must bring you to Adelar von Jurgen, unwillingness and resentment will certainly emerge within his heart.

At that time, we can offer him unimaginable conditions to keep him with us. If he stays, so do the tokens. Afterward, we can plot their retrieval. Even if we can't, as long as you can obtain his favor, when you reach the Holy Flame Empire, you'll have someone to rely on. The road to becoming holy empress will then be smoother."

Since the von Gradl men were useless, it was time for the women to step up and fix the mess they made.

Alas, Augusta failed to realize that she was sending her daughter into a fiery pit.

"Alright, I agree."

Lena replied in a mental message while her eyes shone with determination.  

But as Konrad reached the gate, a shocking scene occurred. 

The kowtowing maidservant who'd remained prostrated throughout the whole scene suddenly turned toward him.

"Lord, please save me!"

She begged Konrad while keeping her forehead plastered on the ground. 

However, Konrad didn't stop and seeing that he was about to cross the door, the maidservant grabbed his right leg, stopping him in his tracks. 

"Lord, please save me!"

She repeated while clinging onto Konrad's thigh. Her move startled both the von Gradl and the delegation members who'd not expected that anyone would be bold enough to touch a corner of Konrad's clothes.

Much less grab him.

Government intelligence agencies realized that Konrad, the world’s number one wife robber, was endowed with a supreme weapon allowing him to turn the purest of maidens into hungry beasts: The Golden Rod!

Eager to obtain that marvelous weapon for their own nefarious purposes, powerful politicians send their teams after him, hoping to capture and analyze the rod. Konrad was chased from one corner of the world to another and ultimately cornered. But in a fit of fury, he chose to destroy what they worked so hard to obtain!

“Screw your ten thousand ancestors! Only I can wield the golden rod! Since you want it so badly, then fetch its remains!”

He howled as he aimed a gun at the golden rod. But suddenly, the sky darkened, and purple lightning struck him from above.

“Fool! This is a national treasure! Who gave you the right to harm it?”

The Happiness God roared in indignation while sending Konrad into reincarnation. 

“This time put the treasure to better use. Complete all the quests, and I might even let you enjoy the sweet fruits of paradise!”

“God, I won’t disappoint you!” 

Happiness God even gave him a tailor-made system. But there was one problem, he was reborn in the body of a half-incubus eunuch caned to death for offending the emperor’s favorite consort!

*YIKES* 

Empresses, imperial consorts, princesses, daughters of powerful families. Within the confines of the Holy Flame City, no beauty is safe from Konrad’s demonic clutches.

“Finally, a body matching my demonism.”

“To all the beauties of this world, I announce that your conquest now begins!”



Tags: Harem, System, R-18, Mature, Reincarnation, Anti-Hero, Shameless Protagonist, Overpowered Protagonist, Immoral Protagonist, Dual Cultivation, Demons, Politics, Comedy, Face-smacking.

Author's note: You can expect a lot of smut, comedy, and face-smacking. If any of this bothers you, this is not for you. 
I do not own the cover.
I'm evil.
https://discord.gg/tucy4kc

Each of the fifteen states comprising the Water Kingdom Alliance possessed its own army token. On top of being low-grade Holy Artifacts, those army tokens allowed the owner to freely dispatch state troops, granting absolute control over the generals and armies.
Moreover, the great generals all possessed lesser tokens that allowed communication with the main token holder and facilitated orders.


To strengthen the alliance king's control over the various states, all the tokens remained in his hand. Without them, even the various state rulers couldn't dispatch their troops.


For tens of thousands of years, this practice carried on. Once those tokens fell into the Holy Flame Empire's delegates' hands, the title of alliance king served no purpose and Ernst could immediately pledge his allegiance as a perpetual vassal.


Unwilling.


He was unwilling!


How could a monarch possibly surrender his authority in such a humiliating manner? However, as Konrad's piercing, purple eyes nailed him, he didn't doubt that should he falter, his life was in jeopardy.


Rage and indignation welled up within his chest. And though he wished to challenge Augusta's suggestion at all cost, he didn't dare! Ultimately, his life was, to him, more valuable than his pride.


With several wobbling steps, Ernst walked by Augusta to stop before Konrad.


*Thud*


And dropped on his knees while extending his still trembling hands toward him.


In a light haze, a plate appeared on his palms, on top of that plate, fifteen bronze seals rippling with Holy force stood. A silver key then appeared amidst the seals.


"I' m…guilty of failing to manage my state and…almost causing the protector harm. I hereby…surrender the fifteen states' army tokens to…the Holy Flame Empire and…offer you free access to our state treasury.


I…also beseech you to not pursue this matter."


Ernst stammered, the words depleting all his body's strength.


Seeing their house's master and monarch surrender in such a wretched way, the von Gradl kinsmen and women were full of shame. But since things had reached this point, surrender was indeed the only road to survival.


Alas, they'd underestimated Konrad's appetite.


"Insufficient."


That word flabbergasted all the members of house von Gradl, and the stammering king's eyes rose toward those overbearing purple hues that nailed him from above.


"What more…could you possibly want?"


With a wave of his hand, Konrad brought the fifteen tokens and treasury key into his emerald bracelet.


"Surrender your royal seal."



Ernst's eyes widened in disbelief. If the army token was half the king's authority, the royal seal was the other half. Only the royal seal guaranteed that edicts couldn't be falsified. Without it, not only could he not send edicts by proxy, but whoever held it could draft them in his name.


Moreover, it was a mid-grade Holy Artifact!


Without it, at best, his authority as king couldn't go beyond the city. At worst, it would be restrained to the royal palace!


Offering it was no different from abdicating his throne.


How could he accept it?!


"You can't go too…"


However, before he could struggle, Augusta's voice boomed within his mind.


"Surrender it! At this juncture, we must be decisive. If you falter, we perish."


Forced back into reality by his wife's words, Ernst bit his lower lips till blood spilled and trickled down his chin.


Still, recalling Konrad's dreadful pressure, he couldn't resist, and the Royal Water Seal, an ocean blue serpent seal, appeared on the plate. Konrad took it into his hand, then turned toward one of the high-level Semi-Saint delegates.


"Draft and send royal edicts to the fourteen other state rulers, ordering them to join us in the royal palace within twenty-four hours for a grand summit."


"As you command, protector!"


Immediately, the Semi-Saint gathered paper and ink to draft the decrees and seal them with the Royal Water Seal. He then deferentially returned it to Konrad.



 
Seeing his fears proven right at such a fast pace, Ernst almost collapsed. Only the belief that house von Gradl's strongest elders would definitely cooperate in snatching back those items filled him with hope.


"Just you wait, if I can't repay you a thousandfold, my name isn't Ernst von Gradl!"


But while he made his inward pledge, Konrad's eyes fell back on him. And assailed by its intensity, Ernst felt as if Konrad completely saw through him. His righteous indignation was thus replaced by a new current of fright.


Startled, he fell onto his rear.


"Like father, like son.


Ruler in name, waste in spirit."


Konrad stated, making Ernst wish he could dig a hole to hide himself.


He then swept his sleeve, turned heels, and walked toward the exit. Led by Krann, the delegation members followed suit, leaving behind the shocked von Gradl kinsmen and women.


Seeing Ernst's pitiful state, Augusta shook her head. How was this a man? Clearly, that husband of hers was nothing more than a coward who only knew how to keep his back straight before the feeble.


Just a gaze from a mightier being was enough to make him cower on his rear.



Compared to that delegation protector…well, they couldn't be compared at all. Were it not for her status and her daughters' being bound to him, what need would there be to care for his life?


With a sigh, she turned toward Lena who suppressed any show of frustration.


"I have a task for you. If you can excel, perhaps all is not lost."


Lena's eyes flashed with a strange light, and without shifting her gaze from Konrad, she replied:


"What is it?"


"Though mighty, that protector's strength cannot surpass the True Origin Saint level. Otherwise, the holy emperor would never send him here to serve as his adopted son's protector. Even if he wished to make a show of force, he would not dispatch an elder whose cultivation approached or surpassed his.


Therefore, this is not a situation that we cannot handle. But the premise is that we can snatch him from the Holy Flame Empire and keep him here!"


Lena's eyes shone with understanding.


"You want me to…seduce him?"


"Yes! Use any trick at your disposal to make him desire you. When he does, thinking of how he must bring you to Adelar von Jurgen, unwillingness and resentment will certainly emerge within his heart.


At that time, we can offer him unimaginable conditions to keep him with us. If he stays, so do the tokens. Afterward, we can plot their retrieval. Even if we can't, as long as you can obtain his favor, when you reach the Holy Flame Empire, you'll have someone to rely on. The road to becoming holy empress will then be smoother."


Since the von Gradl men were useless, it was time for the women to step up and fix the mess they made.


Alas, Augusta failed to realize that she was sending her daughter into a fiery pit.


"Alright, I agree."


Lena replied in a mental message while her eyes shone with determination.


But as Konrad reached the gate, a shocking scene occurred.


The kowtowing maidservant who'd remained prostrated throughout the whole scene suddenly turned toward him.


"Lord, please save me!"


She begged Konrad while keeping her forehead plastered on the ground.


However, Konrad didn't stop and seeing that he was about to cross the door, the maidservant grabbed his right leg, stopping him in his tracks.


"Lord, please save me!"


She repeated while clinging onto Konrad's thigh. Her move startled both the von Gradl and the delegation members who'd not expected that anyone would be bold enough to touch a corner of Konrad's clothes.


Much less grab him.

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This story is fantasy and My FIRST draft book. I only made it up since it all came from my dream. It may be related to the real biblical story of Lucifer that rebel against God & other demons in hell. So, no need to judge about this story I only made it for you readers to make it interesting, hope you like it & please vote for me.





Please there will be some grammatical errors, incorrect spellings & sentence, etc.



My UPDATES will be RANDOM!

(Book 1 of Hunter Fantasy)

The  Bloodline of Angelina fox is endangered

She is cursed to become a neutral, an immortal after the massive death in her coven

Never letting her chose of which plane (Hell or Heaven) she can be in the afterlife

Being the last demon hunter & becoming an immortal, she used her new abilities to hunt those demons down after they killed her whole family

She seeks to destroy Lucifer, The Prince of Demons for centuries

To finally being able to have her revenge for her family, 

She also has to save her sister & this so called Black Witch trapped in a ship filled with Demons, the Bride Of Death

But Her Destined Mates always gets in her way leaving her no choice to choose;


If it is war she need or love she wants...



Warning: there are some chapters restricted only 18+ are allowed if you could not handle death and violation, then maybe sexual activities

As I'd been buzzing the tree-tops a few meters from the two-lane wide road, I saw the group with the two freight wagons long before they would have noticed me. They were currently stopped by an abandoned wagon that lacked the cloth hoods the merchants' possessed.

I slowed down and settled on a tree-branch across from the side they settled down to take a break, before sharpening my hearing a little.

… Gibberish.

The AI surfaced from the depths of coding for a second. [Westria's Human Language Bundle cached and installed. Ability to understand various local human dialects gained.]

"Se lesz going to be fine, aren't you, Betsy?"

"—subjugated!"

"The militia must have been in a rush."

'Thanks,' I belatedly relayed to the AI, though he was already deep into figuring out the HUD. 

I think he was taking it as a challenge to be overcome at this point, considering the surprising amount of difficulty 37 was having. It was a matter of pride as a highly advanced sentient Artificial Intelligence now.

They were definitely a band of merchants and guards.

The wagons filled with their cargo was utilitarian, made from wood. The wheels were rimmed with metal (wrought iron?) while the cover was rough canvas. They were being pulled by giant draft horses, one of which was having its hoof checked.

The local humans were a mixed bag. Skin color varied much like back in the city, though I didn't see any features that showed a hint of Far East Asian. 

I am going to stand out, so it was a good thing I never planned to reveal myself to this group. After all, a single person traveling by themselves might be a bit suspicious.

If this group of people was the standard for the region, I'm going to have to keep my hood up until I can find my hands on a history book or some information. Sure, if elves existed it meant that other fantasy races might. But I'm a human; I am more than aware that humanity has a tendency to make war on anything different as long as we remain ignorant.

Humans fear things that are different, not realizing that all they really needed to do was acknowledge similarities and accept that everyone did not have to possess the same beliefs.

(It'd just be my luck if I possessed features from a cultural group or country that has animosity with the humans of this area.)

Glancing at their clothes and weapons of the ones who wore them openly, I decided to move on now that I had an impression of local humans.

It really only reaffirmed I was in a world of magic considering the level of technology and fashion I've seen from humans and elves. If I tried to place it in a historical time period I was familiar with, I just became confused—so many anachronisms my brain just went in circles. Yet, if I put it into the perspective of a High Fantasy setting, everything fit.

Though High Fantasy usually meant epic-level fights against a Great Evil— And I'll just stop there; consider my head buried in the sand for now (all I want is an actual shower). Not my Problem no matter what the AI seemed to think.

Leaving the tree branch I managed to sit on because I never stopped my <Hover> skill, I flew off again, in the direction I had been going to and the merchants had been coming from.

It was nearing sunset when I smelled the smoke from dinner being cooked.

Yo. Name's Nori. I'm just an ordinary twenty-year-old university student—really—that woke up transported to this world called Gaellia one day. On my first day, I find myself thrown in jail and met my partner that will travel with me: an AI that I have a telepathic bond with.

[Nori, there are monsters attacking the city.]

Not my problem.

"Big Sis! I bought this dress for you!"

"Bro! Let's head to the gate to see who would get a higher kill count!"

[Nori, if you do this mission, you can read 50,000 words of a new title—]

Ah! Alright already, I get it!


**On hiatus for volume compilation**
***Volume Two being roughed out***
{Note: Written in 1st Person POV. Nori is nonbinary. Romance-free for Nori but lots of misunderstandings happen.}

The draft design took shape in a short amount of time. Even though this was the first time he put his conception of his second original mech into shape, he had always imagined its design beforehand.

In his rich imagination, Ves constantly tinkered with the design elements of his rifleman mech. Every available moment, such as when he fell to sleep or took a bath, his thoughts always flitted back to the design of his mech.

A mech designer never stopped designing mechs. Even without a design program, a mech designer would use his own imagination to define its shape.

Therefore, the design process right now actually consisted of constructing the second draft rather than the first. Ves had already pinned down most of the major design choices he thought about beforehand.

"My mech has to be fast, accurate, enduring and tough. In that order."

Juggling those priorities took a lot of finesse. Over the course of a single day, Ves drew up a three-dimensional wireframe model of what his intended design should look like. He only drew up the broad strokes of his design, but it already set a couple of factors in stone.

First, the new design looked nothing like the Blackbeak. Besides using the same type of armor system, engine and other components, the two designs had nothing in common.

"The Blackbeak's role is to attract attention. As a knight, it's inevitable that it's going to be put to use in attracting enemy firepower."

In contrast, a rifleman mech would never volunteer itself as a target dummy. Only stupid and desperate mech pilots would call out attention to their lightly armored mechs.

A rifleman mech armor carried at least half as less armor than a knight mech. It was not as if rifleman mechs couldn't pile up the armor if it wished to do so, but the costs outweighed the benefits.

One of the most important reasons why was that all of that armor impacted the accuracy and precision of a ranged mech. This problem became much worse with higher classes of mechs, because the exotics incorporated in armor plating often interfered with the precision of the limbs.

Either a mech can be light or precise, or heavy and strong.

Only heavy mechs circumvented this unspoken rule. They possessed enough space and weight for mech designers to separate the interference and implement all kinds of compensation systems.

"Heavy mechs are mostly designed and produced by states. I won't be able to get in touch with heavy mechs in a long time."

Right now, Ves had to play by the rules, so he adopted a slimmer medium mech form optimized for speed and accuracy. If he wanted to design a skirmisher mech, he would probably strengthen the arms to make it capable of fighting up close. However, a rifleman mech didn't need that much power, so he kept them fairly slim.

"It's not going to take too much strength to lift up a rifle. It's more important to make sure they're stable and precise."

The heavier the arms, the harder it became to ensure they operated precisely according to the will of the mech pilot. More mass meant more complications. Therefore, mech designers sought to cut them down to the absolute minimum, with perhaps a small allowance for armor plating.

This was why rifleman mechs made for very poor melee mechs. They wouldn't be able to wield heavier weapons such as swords and spears effectively, and they made for a pathetic sight if they had to resort to their backup knives.

This was why rifleman mechs needed mobility. An immobile mech was a sitting duck to any skirmisher, swordsman mech or knight that ran up to its face.

"As long as they can run away, they can maintain their combat effectiveness."

Modern mech combat centered around the strategic positioning of rifleman mechs. The goal of both forces would be to smash apart the rifleman mechs of their opponents. As long as one side lost its rifleman mechs, its fate would be sealed.

Ves spent more time than he thought trying to draft up a good pair of legs. Different from skirmisher mechs, they didn't need to excel in top speed. Rather, they needed to accelerate quickly and be able to halt a mech's forward momentum in an instant.

This took a fair bit of thought. Stronger legs required larger legs, but larger legs also added to weight, which in turn slowed down the mech again.

Fortunately, Ves already owned a number of high-quality component licenses, most of which he exchanged from the Clifford Society with merits. Those component licenses enabled him to make more generous tradeoffs, thereby allowing him to achieve a decent balance between speed and weight.

With a pair of fairly capable legs, the mech looked a bit unbalanced with the skinny pair of arms. Almost every medium rifleman mech looked this way, so Ves wasn't worried about the negative consequences.

The rest of the mech looked fairly slim as well. Compared to the Blackbeak, it possessed a much slimmer weight, as Ves had left out most of the excess armor. He only left a fair bit on the front torso, as rifleman mechs would often be employed against enemy rifleman mechs. Ves figured that the amount of armor he had already added should be sufficient to win an even firefight against a regular rifleman mech.

"The armor largely plays the role of a buffer. It gives the mech pilot another chance after he screws up. His mech isn't supposed to get hit in the first place."

His mech's high mobility ensured the rifleman mech wouldn't get hit nearly as often as the Blackbeak. Thus Ves didn't worry too much about the deficiency in armor.

The rest of his design followed the standard convention for rifleman mechs. Ves did not try to introduce any radical departures from the common standard for rifleman mechs. He needed a lot more skill and experience to attempt such a thing.

Ves decided to adhere to best practices in that regard. This prevented him from introducing potentially fatal flaws, but it also left out any major jumps in performance.

It was not that Ves rejected risk-taking, but he felt he wasn't ready to take that step. "I'll have to become a full-fledged Journeyman Mech Designer before I attempt such a thing."

While he designed his mech, he also continuously channeled his focus. Working with the crystal golem was a lot different than working with images he created from his own imagination.

While the crystal golem largely possesed simple thoughts due to its unusual method of birth, it possessed a much stronger mentality than anything that Ves had hosted in his mind. The crystal golem was alive, and keenly watched on as Ves drafted the mech that it would eventually inhabit.

Naturally, the crystal golem knew nothing about mechs, so it hadn't been able to offer any technical assistance besides the implementation of the crystals. Ves embedded a smaller one in the laser rifle design and a larger one in the chest.

The latter crystal was a bit special, because Ves wanted it to be charged through multiple ways. First, any energy weapon that struck the crystal or around it would have some of its energy siphoned by it. Achieving such a phenomenon wasn't easy, and Ves required a lot of help from the crystal golem to turn the idea into a feasible implementation.

Fortunately, the crystal golem might have forgotten much of its original life, but it still held a wealth of expertise concerning crystal technology. It even amazingly taught him some of its race's simplest circuits, which facilitated the process of energy siphoning.

"This is amazing!"

The torso crystal would certainly make a big impact when it would be unveiled. Perhaps initially the market would dismiss it as another overhyped gimmick that could never deliver on its promise. When the new design finally demonstrated its capabilities, those skeptics and naysayers would certainly be stunned.

Three days later, Ves finally finished his draft design. It incorporated most of what he wanted out of his second original design. The only thing he regretted was not being able to supply the rifleman mech with enough batteries. Its slimmed-down volume left a bit less space for batteries than he anticipated. Even if he utilized the same high-quality batteries as the Blackbeak, it still wouldn't last very long if it continuously shot its weapon.

"I've got no choice but to utilize a laser rifle design with external battery packs."

Laser rifleman mechs distinguished themselves from ballistic rifleman mechs by their ease of supply. Laser rifles utilized standardized formats of batteries. As long as a large force brought enough copies of a handful of battery formats, it would easily be able to supply a motly crew of rifleman mechs.

However, the use of an external battery pack came with a lot of hassle. Laser rifles that drew power directly from its wielder always provided more convenience to the mech pilot. It significantly reduced the supply burden and saved the mech pilot from fumbling around when they replaced a spent battery pack with a fresh one.

Naturally, relying on internal energy cells came with its own downsides, one of which was that the entire mech would be drained much faster. At least with external battery packs, the worst a mech pilot could do was run out of packs. As long as his mech still possessed enough energy, he could always retreat.

This was not so with a complete dependence on internal energy cells. The convenience was actually a double-edged sword. Even if Ves was willing to accept the price, he still couldn't get around to the fact that his energy cells wouldn't be able to supply his laser rifle for long.

He hadn't only been drafting his mech. He also spent at least half a day on his laser rifle. In fact, it didn't look too different from the Tainted Sun which he designed before. Much of the principles used in the design of the gamma laser rifle could also be applied to a regular laser rifle.

Ves made sure to spice up its design in order to obscure the fact that he derived it from a forbidden weapon. This wasn't very hard to do. Gamma lasers demanded an insane amount of integrity and safeguards in order to handle its extremely high output.

Once Ves stripped most of the redundant features, he ended up with something that looked nothing like it could be used for anything illegal.

"Well, I think some smart people might be able to spot some clues."

They could only hold their suspicions, though. At best, someone would suspect that Ves studied under a weapons developer or mech designer who previously worked with gamma laser rifles.

Such news might be able to land Ves in hot water, but he knew very well that no such teacher existed. Who would his skeptics point at as proof that Ves had crossed a taboo?

Therefore, Ves didn't take the threat too seriously.

"Besides, the crystal integrated in the rifle mechanism will certainly attract everyone's attention."

The crystal acted as a laser propagator that substituted for a whole host of internal components. This might sound like a convenience, but in fact it added significantly to its cost. It also made the rifle harder to produce.

That last point would prove to be a major demerit. External weapons such as rifles often wore out quickly. Their lack of armor also meant they easily sustained crippling damage.

This wasn't anything to be concerned about in normal cases, as outfits often brought a bunch of spare laser rifles. Rifleman mechs also often exchanged their native weapon models with other others. Some mech pilots even regarded it as natural as wearing a different set of clothes each day.

The reason why such a custom came about was because laser rifles ordinarily didn't cost a lot of credits. However, Ves would have a lot of trouble trying to get his customers to accept purchasing his more expensive laser rifle, given that it would cost at least twice as much as a normal rifle.

It was very much possible that his customers would only use the crystal laser rifle that came with his product at the start. When it inevitably broke down, they'll just grab the nearest generic laser rifle instead of purchasing a branded one from the LMC.

"If I want to make my customers stick to my brand of weapons, I'll have to add more benefits to using them in conjunction with my mech."

This wasn't an old problem. Plenty of mech designers faced the same issue, and they developed a set of standard solutions to make the pairing between mech and weapon more attractive.

At the draft stage, it wasn't necessary for Ves to work on that aspect. He decided to leave the issue for later while he finalized the draft and made sure he hadn't missed any major design choices.

He nodded in satisfaction. "This is enough to give others a good impression of my mech. Let's see what others have to say about my work."

Humanity has conquered half the galaxy and the Age of Mechs reigns supreme!

Ves Larkinson lacked the genetic aptitude to become a famed mech pilot. Fighting against his fate, he studied mech design in order to express his love for mechs as a builder instead of a soldier.

When Ves graduated from college, he returned to a new but empty boutique. Left with a small, newly founded mech workshop that his father painstakingly built with a mountain of debt, Ves somehow needs to make ends meet with the bank breathing down his neck.

In the midst of his despair, he found salvation from another legacy his father had left.

"Welcome to the Mech Designer System. Please design your new mech."

--Join The Mech Touch's unofficial Discord server: https://discord.gg/APB5KCU

To be honest, finding myself standing at the center of this fully furnished room was my least concerns.

It's pretty much how to divert my eyes from all of these good looking animated people who are staring at me.

Wah! Let me breathe for a second okay! 

Quietly scanning the whole room the moment I opened my eyes was really a bad idea. Now I could'nt even find a single space to focus on except the glass or was it diamonds ceiling? 

"Remoa Arsis Slain do you still denied your crime?" 

Again,I found my little self staring at the man who has pale skin,moppy white hair , pair of red eyes and a face that could destroy any of my favourite country. Sigh, he really looked like my darling Accelerator. 

With his eyes alone I could imagine his seiyuu Nobuhiko Okamoto but instead of speaking in Japanese version it's more like the dubbed one.

Though,It's somewhat dissapointing to hear English word come out of his mouth I know that it's for the best as sub would not magically appear as he spoke.

Seeing that no one responded into his question I wonder if this Remoa Arsis Slaine lad is me? 

The probability of that idea is high as I divert my eyes for a second to see a weird shackle chaining my hands. Ugh, back to my Accelerator look-a -like.

Minutes easily passed by with me still staring at the man who asked the question earlier and whispers once again filled the room. 

I really wish that I could hear their gossipings like those italian words on some of my novels to be more aware of what the fuck is happening?

Maybe I should really asked if I am Remoa. It would save some time until I could figure it out how i ended up in this situation.

This scenery somehow is giving me a de javu vibes.

I had a Remoa  character that was inspired by my friend's name as the main villainess of my first published Fantasy-Romance novel entitled Regal Academy.

As a rough draft novel out of nothing but cliche's experience of mine It has 46 chapters with no solid plot and a well used overpowered main character with a lot of love interest.

The story line is normal but what made me like to continue it was the Fantasy theme as I was really inspired back then to create my own world. 

Remoa the main villainess was exiled at the chapter before the Epilogue by the hand of Top 1 student of the academy as well as her childhood slash fiance Cairo whose looks was inspired by my second favourite anime— 

Oh fuck.

Lucky enough to be reincarnated at my first novel. Doomed because of the ungrateful characters that I created.

This book was originally posted on wattpad. There are a lot of graphics works and aesthetic images there. So if you want you can head over to wattpad and search @ShreyaSengupta29

This is my first book, so I do not hope anything much from it.

And my native language is Bengali. So I have tried my best to put in, the minimal vocabulary I have. Feel free to point out any typos.

I hope you all will like reading this. Cause the story is amazing.

***

I used to be a huge twilight fan. Then I shifted to TVD, The Originals and currently Legacies. Other shows included Lucifer, Teen Wolf and a lot of reading. I loved supernatural fantasy and still do. All these together inspired me with this story. I love this baby. 

***

This is the first draft. So there are a lot of changes to be made and the book is not edited. I repeat. The book is not edited.

I will be changing a few more things and modify the plot a bit more after all the awards and contests are over.

***

This is Book 1 of the series.

Book 1 of The Cursed Realm Saga

In a world where supernatural beings exist, where magic brews darkness and darkness tends the souls, where creatures bearing fangs and those with claws consider themselves the superior creation of nature... there, peace is just a metaphor.

                                                                      *****

"ᴀ ᴄᴜʀꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴇ ᴜɴᴅᴏɴᴇ ʙᴜᴛ... ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴀ ʟᴏᴏᴘʜᴏʟᴇ."

A war of power between the dark and the light was enough to put the fate of the entire realm at risk. Now, to save the realm, the chosen ones must enter the wicked games that had been waiting to be started for centuries in the form of a curse that will put the realm in a turmoil, impossible to overcome.

Gwenneth Sienna wasn't aware of any of this... Even when she is sent into the realm of chaos, she doesn't know a bit about these people and their true nature. Every face here wears a mask, hard to recognize.

Gwen has to survive long enough for her mother to come and get her out of here. But when two gorgeous brothers are willing to do everything to keep her bound to the castle grounds, she must choose between following her heart and following her destiny.

And her destiny may not be the safest choice out and neither is following her heart.

"Cleveland is now on the Clock!" The timer ticked down as shouts echoed throughout the room. 10:00, 9:59… it was all in slow motion.

"Call T-" A man ordered before he tripped over his own feet and slammed his head into the desk beside him. The people flood towards him to check if he was alive. They all released a sigh of relief when they found a pulse and heard breathing.

Tony was at a loss, 'Where am I? What is today? Isn't today Super Bowl 52? Damn it where am I!' This isn't where he was supposed to be. He was supposed to be getting drunk with his ex-girlfriend and having hate sex. Not in a room filled with old men who were double his age. He stood up from the ground and rubbed his now throbbing head.

"Roy there is only 8 minutes left! What is our choice?" A man shouted louder than the rest as he rushed Tony, now Roy. Tony didn't respond still trying to understand how he got in this situation. Not even noticing that a man before he was grabbed roughly by the shoulders.

"Roy! We know you hit your head but we need our pick! Tim Couch, right? We had been studying him for the past four months and have agreed on him, but we need to check with you first!" The man continued.

"What is today?" Roy asked, his eyes darting around the room.

"What are you talking about! Today is April 17, 1999! Now, what's our pick?" The man continued to look off at the clock and watched it second by second tick away.

Tony was at a loss, none of this made sense. It was only seconds ago, February 4, 2018. The Eagles were about to play the Patriots and he was getting the alcohol ready. How did he end up here?

Did he pregame too hard? No, he was only four shots in, an average before going off to parties. The clock had now ticked down to 7:00.

"ROY! Snap out of it!" The same man shouted again.

Maybe this is all a dream, he could have only passed out. That does in a way make sense for this. He doesn't remember tripping but maybe he hit his head after pregaming. He shook off the worried shouting man and walked around the room. This was all too foreign to him, he had done fantasy drafts before but never thought he would be in one.

6:00

'1999? Who was a part of this draft?' "Get me the list of the top 10 projected picks!" Tony shouted, he needed a refresher, the draft was too long ago. He could only hope there would be names he remembered from his time. Everyone in the room was in shock but didn't disagree or dally, there was no time for that.

5:20

An intern rushed back in and handed Tony a paper with the ten projected picks, "Tim Couch, Donovan McNabb, Akili Smith, Ricky Williams, Champ Bailey, Edgerrin James, Chris McAlister, Torry Holt, Chris Claiborne, and Daunte Culpepper."

4:43

Tony had to dig deep in his mind as he thought over all the players on this list. He knew four of them immediately. 'McNabb was a good QB who choked away too many games. Williams a good RB who never lived up to the hype, James was much better in every way. Bailey, one of the best CB ever.'

4:00

Damn it! The real thing is so much different than the drafts he did every year.

3:30

There is also Torry Holt! Damn it, the greatest show on turf. Tony was losing it, this whole situation was too much for him.

"Roy! Are we getting Tim Couch or not! We don't have time for this!"

Roy snapped out of his stupor and immediately replied to the angry coach, "No we aren't! Let me think."

"You don't have time to think! We have to call in our pick before we are skipped over, damn it!"

2:00

Roy stopped and tried once more to take every bit in. He felt small in comparison to everything around him. The screens, the voices, the people, yet here he was – a fan. This was a place he dreamed of, a place he chased. He stood with feet rooted in place stunned in awe.

The time ticked away and the shouts of everyone in the room were deafening. Roy was too stunned to answer any of them. The timer ticked away and just like that Roy's first pick was a pass. He raised the volume on the TV and listened to the commenters.

"Roy's first year as GM and he didn't make his pick. He won't last long with such actions."

"There never an excuse for not picking. If you want a later pick trade yours away, don't pass."

The comments were exactly to his expectations and with the booing in the background, nothing was shocking.

The Eagles were now on the Clock and Tony knew they would pick McNabb. He smiled at the memory of booing when the pick was made. Then booing even louder at his performance in the Super Bowl. These happy memories were enough to slow Tony down enough for him to collect his thoughts on the situation. This may to him be a dream but to everyone else, this is their job, their lively hood.

The Eagles didn't take long to make their pick and within those less than five minutes Tony returned to the War room.

The timer was ticking once more and the others were furious with him.

"What are you thinking!"

"You idiot!"

"Why not Tim Couch?"

"What changed!"

"Who are we picking instead?"

"Tell us something!"

Roy had collected his thoughts before he entered but at being bombarded with questions it quickly left his head. The panic returned, and he couldn't stay composed.

"I don't know!" He bellowed. The room suddenly became silent at his plea.

8:00

"I don't know what to tell everyone here. I made a mistake for not making a choice; I just know Tim was the wrong choice for us."

"Who do you suggest instead then?"

7:00

"Bailey." Was his short and simple reply to everyone. It was obvious to tell no one had any confidence in him after he didn't make a pick. As of this second, they were in no place to fight with him though.

"Why not Tim?" One staffer called out while the rest remained silent.

Tony looked back to the TV screen replaying Tim's highlights, "Our OL, we don't have anyone to protect him the pocket. Along with no helpers to work along with him. Holt would be a good choice as well but without a decent QB to work with him, his worth won't be there. So, since our offense is static; I decided working on defense would be the better choice for this draft and the offense next year."

Not everyone was convinced but they did take notice he did seem more confident than he was previously. Without further argument, they made the call and informed Bailey of their decision. Along with sending their pick to the workers in New York to bring it to the commissioner.

The TV was unmuted and throughout the previously silent room, the voice of Paul John Tagliabue echoed, "With the second pick in the 1999 draft the Cleveland Browns select… Champ Bailey."

A whole new world had been opened up from that single moment. All the stress he incurred was lifted at that moment. With a sigh of relief, he then remembered, this was only day one.

With a love of Football in his past life, and 19 years of knowledge for the future. Roy will try to create a dynasty.

Who is the best player on your team?
"A team isn't held on the back of one guy."

What side of the ball wins championships?
"The game isn't determined by only one side."

What's your secret to drafting?
"What secret? I only use the information given to me by my scouts?"

It is worth mentioning when asked about this, your scouts threw up blood and complained you never listened to them. You have anything to add?
"Obviously you are talking to the wrong scouts then."

That was all of them.
"Must have drunk too much then."

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