Peace_in_Chaos

In a white void between life and death, a soul witnesses fragments of memories—glimpses of someone called the Strongest Monarch, a being who shares his face but whose story remains incomplete.

Then comes rebirth. As a newborn in the world of Aevoria, he awakens with two sets of memories: one belonging to Samiel, a graduate of the legendary Apocalypse Academy, and another shrouded in mystery. But something's wrong. The memories of his graduation years are missing, and with them, perhaps the key to preventing Aevoria's greatest crisis.

The New Apocalypse is on its way.

Ancient prophecies speak of a chosen hero—but Samiel knows he isn't the one. With time running out and three powerful academies vying for dominance, he must uncover the truth: Why were his memories erased? What secrets does the Apocalypse Academy hold? And can someone who isn't the chosen one still change destiny?

In a world of cultivation, world system, wars, mythical beasts, and dark prophecies, Samiel will prove that sometimes the greatest heroes are the ones who write their own legends.

After all, what's a prophecy to someone who's already lived twice?
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Warning: This story contains descriptions of violence, gore, and the depiction of intense emotional trauma. Reader discretion is advised. All events and characters are products of the author’s imagination.

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Discord Link -> https://discord.gg/ezVBxwCEPN

The Strongest Monarch In The Apocalypse Academy

Fool's Guide To Surviving The Apocalypse!

New Story Alert

Before Lucian could finish, the grand doors of the hall burst open with a loud creak. Both Amael and Lucian turned their heads sharply toward the entrance, their senses heightened.

Two figures sprinted into the hall, their voices ringing out in unison. "Father!"

Lucian's expression shifted instantly, his golden eyes widening in surprise—an expression Amael found oddly human, as if Lucian had completely forgotten about the pair.

The two figures—a boy and a girl, both with jet-black hair and eyes that shimmered with the same golden hue as Lucian's—were around Amael's age, no older than eleven. They charged toward Lucian with the reckless enthusiasm only children could muster.

The boy sprinted effortlessly, his strides steady and swift, but the girl… well, her journey was less graceful. As she sidestepped to avoid the carpet's edge, her foot caught slightly, and she stumbled, landing hard on her knees.

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