OSM_1015

[Mature content. No rape]
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"Mr. Archer!" She hurried her footsteps after the cop, who seemed to have already memorized the way out of the small two-story house.

"It's Adrien, not Archer," he said, not bothering to turn around and look at her as he turned the door knob.

"Fine." She rolled her eyes. "We need to talk, " she said, following him out of the house and closing the door behind her.

"I had enough time to spend with a dunderhead like you," she heard him say, and she fumed.

"How dare you?!" She fisted her palm furiously as she saw him walk past the little gate. "You son of a chameleon!"....

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In a world where mythical creatures like werewolves, vampires, and elves exist alongside humans, a long-standing war has left humans living in fear and captivity. Elves, once thriving, have become extinct due to the ongoing conflict. Alicia, the last surviving elf, is raised by Mrs. Anderson, whom she believes to be her biological mother.

However, when Alicia confronts a man named Adrien, whom she calls Mr. Archer, tensions rise. Adrien's apparent disdain for Alicia triggers a fiery exchange. Unbeknownst to Alicia, her unique heritage as the last elf will soon become a central focus in a world where mythical beings and humans clash.

This story promises intrigue, conflict, and a journey of self-discovery for Alicia as she grapples with her identity and the ongoing strife between mythical creatures and humans.

Hunting Down the Last Elf

Alfonzo stepped out, his polished boots clicking on the cobblestone driveway. The crisp, cool air brushed against his face, carrying the faint scent of pine and mountain flowers.

Immediately, he could feel the weight of countless eyes upon him. The guards stationed along the entrance, their golden hazel eyes sharp and alert, watched his every move with disciplined intensity. Their expressions remained stoic, but their unwavering gaze was a silent testament to the significance of his arrival.

A smirk broadened Alfonzo's lips as he acknowledged the silent scrutiny. With a confident nod to Reginald, who stood at his side, he began his march forward, each step deliberate and measured. His cape billowed slightly with the motion, the rich fabric catching the light and adding to his imposing presence.

Netherash Council