検索キーワード： 著者 "Cassius Lange" すべてのカテゴリー

I was the Ashlord—a primordial, an apex predator amongst beasts, commanding legions. I fell, despite my power, although not due to the strength of my enemies...but the betrayal of my own kind. A voice whispered to me as I lay dying on the cold ground, promising rebirth and revenge. Accepting his offer, I fell into a timeless sleep. I awaken to the cold and crushing dark of a forgotten grave and discover that I have changed. No longer a primordial force of nature, I now inhabit the body of a once immortal cultivator, the very same one that tried to claim my core as I lay dying.

I woke up in a battlefield triage tent, bloody, battered, and crippled. It wasn't just my arm and shoulder that was broken, but also my mind. I couldn't remember anything—my name, who or where I was, or what had happened to me. Could things get worse? Of course they could. The battle wasn’t over, and it appeared that our enemy wasn't content with just a victory. No. They sought to wipe us out. But why? If I lived long enough, perhaps I would find out.

Not everyone gets a second chance at life. I, however, kind of lucked into mine. Thrust into the body of a dying man, I fought to break free, made a few friends along the way, and started down the long and treacherous path of revenge.

My name is James, but my mom’s the only person that can call me that. To everyone else, I’m JD — a struggling artist, working my fingers to the bone for my shot with one of the big comic book companies. Oh, and I work nights, managing a dive called Judson’s Bar and Grill. I know: the dream life. Things were boring, disappointing, even. Until one fateful night when everything changed.

This is the story about how I died. Not really.... I mean, I don't remember most of it, thank goodness. Long story short, I was betrayed. Some people I thought I could trust invaded my sky palace, stole my women, and enslaved my pet shadow hounds. I was destroyed, utterly. Or so they thought. Somehow, mana, the source of my previous power, brought me back. The backstabbing weasels think they are safe, barricaded in their strongholds. Here's the horrible part. They willingly sacrificed their own flesh and blood for security. And they had the nerve to call me evil?

Baron Sherazad hat mich so weit wie möglich von Eslant verbannt. Jetzt sitze ich mitten im Nirgendwo fest, an einem Ort voller Feinde, zusammen mit einer verrückten Mimic und einer abtrünnigen Elfe, die mir den Rücken freihalten. Da ist man dem ränkeschmiedenen Adel entkommen... nur um erneut in eine ganze Stadt von ihnen zu kommen! Die Herrscher dieses Ortes sind fest entschlossen, ihre Zivilisten schwach und unter Kontrolle zu halten. Mal schauen, welchen Preis Sie dafür zu zahlen haben.

Brew the beer and light the Hearth. No ifs, plenty of butts. I’d been looking for a way to leave my old life behind, so inheriting a battered old pub in the middle of nowhere was the perfect excuse. Flying in from America, I was keen for a chance to get my head down, lick my wounds and figure out my next steps. It turned out, though, there’s all sorts of unusual expectations of the landlord in the village of Pant-y-Giggles. From renovating the building, to learning how to brew, to embracing the Way of the Hollows, I very quickly had my hands full.

The Baron Sherazad sent me as far away from Eslant as possible. Now, I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere, in a nest full of enemies, with only a demented mimic and a renegade elf to watch my back.

Debt-serf. Scavenger. Nobody worth remembering. In Alnda, that’s all Alaric was ever supposed to be. Something others had planned for him. But with CD, Elli, Seo Rin, and Yesabel at his side, Alaric’s building mechs, making allies, and carving a future society never wanted him to have.

Wir sind mitten im Nirgendwo gestrandet und Greystone ist nur noch eine schmerzhafte Erinnerung. Und doch hat Tan'Malas, der dunkle Gott, es irgendwie geschafft, vor uns in diesem fremden, neuen Land Fuß zu fassen. Es ist keine leichte Aufgabe, eine neue Heimat zu errichten, doch es gibt kein Zurück mehr. Die fanatischen Kräfte Tan'Malas regieren das Land mit eiserner Faust und halten die Bevölkerung mit Angst und Schrecken unter Kontrolle. Auch uns wollen sie ihren Willen aufzwingen.

Leider haben wir keine Zeit, ihm zu Ehren ein Fest zu feiern – die ganze Welt ist verrückt geworden und wird von korumpierten Monstern bedroht. Borealis war unglaublich wütend, dass Chester sie vergessen hat und in einem Anfall von Trotz hat er unsere Welten miteinander verschmolzen. Jetzt stecken wir alle in einer bizarren und gefährlichen Höllenlandschaft fest, in der die Verderbnis aus jedem Dungeon strömt. Die Kraft, die ich gesammelt habe, reicht nicht aus, um dieser Katastrophe Herr zu werden.

Frank Midnight is on a roll. He’s been making a name for himself in Sankta Varath as a shrewd businessman, merciless killer, and welcoming club owner. He’s sporting some of the meanest weapons and toughest armor in existence, and rides a deviltail mount through the city like a boss. Frank Boss as the orcs call him. Yet, the man isn’t happy. How can he with a thousand voices screaming in his head and the Quinta Empire advancing on Steelheart. Nothing can stop them, not even the might of the Three of Steel, the brutality of Castilian, or the…mildly annoyed Frank.

Frank and his adopted family have plenty of work to do. The guests are thirsty and they want new drinks, the walls yearn for more heads...er, trophies, and his purse dreams of being just a bit fuller. Popularity is never something Frank yearned for, but the club has made him rather important to the Ashpit and its inhabitants. But not everything is roses and sunshine when Frank is invited to a meeting of notable Sankta Varathian club owners. Deals are offered, new faces promise him the world, and gold begins to flow...but as it usually goes, everything that seems to good to be true, usually is.

I am Garren Holt: Dead Trucker. Reborn Brawler. Donkey Sidekick. Harem Magnet. Real heroes never die. They just get sent somewhere else. One minute I'm hauling 600 HP of diesel fury. The next, a bear the size of a semi punches my isekai ticket and portals me into a medieval forest. Stats flood my vision. A smart-mouthed donkey bonds to my soul and won't shut up about 'delivering freedom' with his kicks.

A newly-minted Hammerlord, Ash, finally has a home of his own and a party he’d fight and die for. The next chapter in his life is about to start, but along with that come many responsibilities, like…where do they put the monster trophies? And who gets what room? Sometimes it is good to have simple problems as every new dawn somehow piles on more and more dangers on his plate. House Domitius is still coming for the smithy and for Ash’s parents. They will stop at nothing, when a familiar face returns with reinforcement, even bending the guild and bank to their whim, or using deadly force.

Frank Gerber isn't happy. At all. Being a bounty hunter sucks. Even more so when it pays very little. What sucks even more is that his client decides to skip payday. A pimp dressed in a frilly pink suit. Can his day turn even worse? It can when polite conversation turns into unabashed violence, and Frank finds himself the new owner of the most rundown joint in the Ashpit. With a mounting debt, not nearly enough booze, and a single bartender in his service, he will have to do... yeah, he doesn't know what yet, but he will eventually find out. Everything can wait.

Wir befinden uns im Krieg, und ich werde alles tun, um meine Familie zu schützen! Die arkane Schutzkuppel von Greystone schimmert unter dem Sperrfeuer der feindlichen Zaubersprüche. Die Mauern sind bemannt und das valtorianische Heer belagert die Stadt. Während wir uns auf die letzte Schlacht vorbereiten, verbreiten die Anhänger von Tan'Malas Angst und Schrecken in beiden Lagern. Schreie hallen durch die Stadt, während der Tod um sich greift. Der Krieg droht, alles zu verschlingen, wofür wir hart gearbeitet haben und mir alles zu nehmen, was mir etwas bedeutet. Wieder einmal!

Ich wachte in einem Zelt auf dem Schlachtfeld auf, blutig, geschlagen und verkrüppelt.Nicht nur mein Arm und meine Schulter waren gebrochen, sondern auch mein Verstand. Ich konnte mich an nichts erinnern—meinen Namen, wer oder wo ich war, oder was mit mir passiert war. Konnte es noch schlimmer werden? Sicher. Die Schlacht war noch nicht vorbei, und unser Feind gab sich nicht mit seinem Sieg zufrieden. Nein. Sie wollten uns auslöschen. Aber warum? Wenn ich lange genug lebte, würde ich es vielleicht herausfinden.

Greystone is nothing but a painful memory. Yet Tan'Malas, the Dark God, has found footing in this strange new land just as we did. Establishing a home with enemies on all sides is no easy task, yet there is no turning back. This time we will fight the Dark God head-on and make sure no one takes our home away from us again. The Order, a fanatical faction devoted to Tan'Malas, rules these lands with an iron fist. We will use them as a stepping stone and make sure that the people have a choice in who they worship and support.

Es gibt einen Mann in Sankta Varath, der weiß, wie man Köpfe nimmt. Er hat sogar einen speziellen Sack für die hässlicheren Köpfe... Frank Gerber wurde im Laufe seiner vielen Dienstjahre in der Armee des Königs zu einem Killer geformt. Das Militärleben hat ihn aber nicht geprägt. Die Politik war ihm zu fadenscheinig und zu viel Arschkriecherei. Jetzt streift er durch die dunklen Gassen und entlockt seinen Auftraggebern als Kopfgeldjäger reichlich Münzen aus der Tasche.