Nightmare Assault - Chapter 342: Door

The biggest mistake of Alicia's life, was trying to commit suicide.

She found herself in the body of a 19 years old princess in exile, in the middle ages.

What's more? She was forced to marry Prince Harold; the infamous white-haired hot tempered Prince who wouldn't mind killing someone for the most irrelevant reason.

Now, her wedding is only a few hours from now and the 'princess', which happens to be Alicia, is supposed to display some 'princessly' skills to the guest.

Quick question: Is twerking allowed in the middle ages?

She knew one thing for sure, the wedding was going to be a disaster and the hot tempered prince was going to kill her before she found her way back home.

God Help Her!

ThatAmazingGirl in collaboration with Miss_Behaviour (The writers of In Love With A Klepto) is bringing you another book.

“THE CURSED PRINCE'S STRANGE BRIDE”

What would you do if you suddenly found yourself in the body of a princess in the ancient time?

What's more, he isn't only a werewolf, he is also cursed by the moon goddess.

EXCERPT:

What should she do? She was confused and had no idea what was going on. Weddings in the middle ages was weird! What the hell is 'Virtues recitation'?

Should she pretend to faint? That was the only thought that made sense. So that was what she did.

She slowly collapsed on the ground and heard how everyone began to gasp and exclaim.

Alicia wanted them to take her out of there and then she would find a way to escape. But maybe she was unlucky after all, because when she peeped under her lashes, wondering why no one was coming to carry her out, she saw a golden robe, before the person crouched down in front of her.

She shut her eyes tightly and stilled her breath. She was an actress, after all. She could pull this off flawlessly.

“That was a bad act, my lady.” The deep voice spoke, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin.

Scary.

“I will only give you three seconds to get up.”

His voice wasn't really threatening, but somehow he commanded fear, especially with the slow and careful way he spoke. She had heard he was bad-tempered. What would he do after the three seconds passed? Would he kill her? Then would she die here? How did he even know she was pretending? Were people in the middle ages usually smart?

She opened one eye to peek at him and saw him staring right at her with a smirk.

THERE WAS NO WAY THE WEDDING WASN'T HAPPENING. SHE WAS SO DEAD!

[Youngster don't understand the charm of 'milfs', instead mistaking Lolitas as the treaures]Leading a life filled with regret and pain, Li Zhiyan reborn with a seemingly feeble 'system', taking back to 2010.Right at the moment he was about to be publicly rejected at graduation party after confessing his feelings with a bouquet of flowers to the school beauty, Yu Sisi, and about to become a joke among his peers for years.“I...I am reborn?”The wheels of a new fate begin to turn.All along, the school beauty Yu Sisi has only been deceiving and playing with him. In his past life, Li Zhiyan himself did not know and became a laughingstock, but now, as a reborn person, he has already seen the true face of this girl.He chuckled coldly, glanced at the mother of Yu Sisi on the side, the 41-year-old Aunt Gu Wanzhou.She was mature, intellectual, elegant, kind, considerate, low-profile.The sex appeal of a mature milf lady was radiating all around.Li Zhiyan decisively picked up the flowers, ignored the school beauty, and boldly confessed his feelings to this attractive mature woman in front of everyone.“Lady Gu, actually, I've had feelings for you for quite a while.”

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.”

It was in the year 2800 of the Midgard calendar. Back then, there was a Overlord who once reigned supreme and had reached the very brink of subduing the world.