A Bored Lich
"Screw magic, I want to learn how to do cool flips and stuff." Magic is awesome, until you've studied it for centuries. Doevm reincarnates into a human to experience the path of a fighter to its fullest and swears not to rely on magic. There is only one problem, a goddess stands in his way. She pits him against both the hero and the villain for all of eternity. How will he escape this, with magic or his fists? Maybe both? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------(Sorry about the spacing. Webnovel doesn't let me use enter) Winner of contest #110. I upload three chapters a week. Each chapter has word count around 1000+.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Link to my discord: https://discord.gg/tHaceja ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------While I am an experienced writer, I do make mistakes. Don't be afraid to say you don't understand something or point out an error in grammar. I read all comments. There are naturally some things I won't say. For example, if some says there's an inconsistency and I don't address it, it's probably there for a reason.
Unknown Voice
Doevm scowled. The worst part of this march wasn't the many knights' panicked whispers nor the dirt and broken stone falling from the unstable ceiling, but the horrid smell coming from the depths of the newly formed hole. Even as some's faces turned green, they kept marching. It was a smell that could not be anything else.
It was worse than a rotten piece of cheese or excrement. It was like one's body odor had been made into a candle and then left to rot in a dark cellar for years, then combined with the smell of burning fuel. It didn't matter if one had never smelled it before, because once did, they knew exactly what it was, the smell of burning hair and flesh. Most held their shirts over their noses, but that didn't help much. The smell clung to their nostrils, a grip which tightened the deeper they went.