検索キーワード： "Lang Lang" 世界滅亡後

I survived a near-death battlefield head injury just to get thrown right back into the meatgrinder. My friends and I survived brigands, beasts, scheming nobles, a rigged tribunal, and oh, more beast! But it wasn’t all bad. My bond with ether helped put part of my fractured mind back together. What did I see? Glimpses of a life lost. A woman I’d failed. But also...a rift forming from the ether convergence. You see, I was there when the collapse started, even though I couldn’t remember.

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.

Welcome to the Junkyard, a toxic wasteland where humans, machines, and everything in between fight for survival among the ruins of a long-forgotten war. This is where Diane Three-One-Seven finds herself after the arkship Cradle—the only home she’s ever known—falls out of the sky. When a mysterious scavenger named Virgil stumbles upon Diane’s escape pod, the two strike a deal (if it can be called that). Virgil’s spare mechanical battle suit, nicknamed the “Grave Walker,” can help Diane survive the ruined atmosphere—but it could kill her if it runs out of power.

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.

In just thirteen days, Iain Clark—along with his friends—survived the initialization of the System, cheated said System to deal with a world boss, and eradicated a vampiric incursion. Oh, right, and he was directly responsible for wiping out the residents of Kringleton—Santa Claus included. Turns out Santa was a jerk, who knew? Now after two weeks of insanity, Iain thinks he's caught a break. Of course, with the System involved, things aren't so easy—they never are.

Since we, the RGHIA, were cheated out of your last dungeon due to some unknown interference, we’ve found a way to entertain ourselves—a new instance custom-made for you. Do you like vampires? No? How sad—for you—because that’s what you’re up against.

System Initiating.... Valhalla Protocol Activated.... Welcome, —Insert Name—, you have spawned into a level 70 city—soon to be dungeon. All safe zones are transitory. Due to the city’s failing infrastructure, a permanent safe zone cannot be established at this time.

Iain knows which way the RGHIA are leaning. Human life to them is just another inconvenience on their way to total domination. Jerks. It figures though. It isn’t like the System is suddenly going to cut him any slack even after turning the city into a caged death match. Hell, he would’ve settled for a breather, but no such luck. At this point it’s clear the System or the RGHIA hates his guts—meaning he and his family are pretty screwed.

Iain never gave the holidays much thought prior to the System's arrival, and he gave it even less thought once it arrived. Thus when the System decided to intervene and involve him in an a holiday event all on its own kind of shocked him.

Welcome, Magnus —Insert Surname—, you have spawned into a level 70 city—soon to be dungeon. All safe zones are transitory. Due to the city’s failing infrastructure a permanent safe zone cannot be established at this time.

Welcome, Thaddeus Hellion, The Royal Grand High Imperial Architects of the System ‘welcomes’ Earth into the Universal Collective. Apparently, the most populace sentient species on this world are humans—Wow, that’s pathetic—anyway, it should be fun to watch the lot of you die. That wasn’t good. In fact, Thaddeus would go so far as to say it was terrible, since his weekly manicure appointment was more than likely canceled.

The Late Bloomer is harrowing, grim, and poignant in the way of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. Told in Kevin March’s singular and unforgettable voice, delivering a gripping narrative with an unsparing climax as moving as it is terrifying, The Late Bloomer defies expectations of the genre and will haunt those who listen to it.