All Chapters of Choosing The Alpha King: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

The first rays of the morning sun caressed the dew-laden green field, casting a golden glow over the landscape. Majestically, the castle stood, a silent sentinel through hundreds of years, witnessing generations rise in power and fall into oblivion.Now, the same castle would bear witness to the brewing storm of war. General Victor, now hailed by his people as King Victor, stood resolutely at the forefront of his army, a formidable force of 20,000. Opposite him, Ferdinand, alongside his son Charles, commanded an even larger army of 50,000.Ferdinand's voice thundered across the field, his words laced with contempt. “Victor, you are a traitor. How dare you kill your own king! A traitor does not deserve the crown. Those who follow Victor, have you no shame in supporting such treachery? If you are a man of honor, you are supposed to cut his head and present it to the late king!”Winning the war wasn't merely a numerical clash of forces; it was also a moral and ideological battle. Those w

"If you don't understand how it works, then let me tell you," Xanders adjusted her glasses while explaining to Ferdinand. "Four of our agents, disguised as members of General Thomas's soldiers, are always ready on Charles's back, helping him. But once they receive the command, they will forget their disguise and either eliminate his enemy or finish them off, then they'll stab Charles from behind. They'll then drag his body and throw it to the enemy," Xander detailed coldly. "And when the enemy gets Charles's body, my team will start yelling, 'Charles has died, Charles has died.' What do you think will happen when General Victor's people catch wind of that?"Xander put his ear to the wind. Between the sound of waves, soon the shouts from the war zone could be heard. People were shouting eagerly and thunderously. "Charles has died! Charles has died!""That's the sound you will hear," Xander looked at Ferdinand with a deep sense of conviction. "Your son just died, and soon you and your d

‘What time is it already?’ ‘I didn’t really care.’ ‘Is it morning or night?’ ‘Again, I didn’t care.’ How many days have passed since Xander left me? I simply didn’t know. “Aurora, please eat.” Grandma’s voice, though close, seemed to drift from a distant world. “Open your mouth.” I mechanically opened my mouth, allowing her to feed me. As the food touched my tongue, a flood of memories crashed over me. Xander’s death – my fault. I had killed Xander, the one who loved me. And like a wave retreating from the shore, my stomach rebelled, and I threw up again. “Aurora, you cannot be like this; it’s been a month. You barely eat anything, you’ve become so thin.” Grandma’s words were laced with worry. I had been hiding in my room for what felt like eternity, shunning the outside world, yearning only for Xander. Tears began to form in my eyes, unbidden. “Please don’t cry again; you cry almost every day.” Grandma protested softly, her voice a mix of concern and despair. How had I never

BiancaI was driving the truck through the parched landscape, trailed by six other trucks, each carrying vital supplies. Our destination was a village, visibly withered by the relentless drought. The dust billowed high as we passed through the arid terrain.As our convoy neared the small village, I could see the inhabitants' eyes, heavy with sadness and tinged with fear, as they looked towards us. Climbing down from the truck, I confronted the gathering locals, “Who is the alpha here?” My voice echoed with authority, yet laced with concern.An elderly woman, her face etched with the harshness of life, shook her head slowly. “We already lost our alpha in a village war,” she whispered, her voice trembling like autumn leaves.I sighed inwardly, 'Another village without an Alpha.' Outwardly, I maintained my composure and turned to my team. “Distribute the supplies among the villagers,” I commanded, my voice firm yet empathetic.I stood by the truck, the dust swirling around my feet, and g

The relentless sound of gunfire echoed incessantly, blending into the backdrop of chaos. Steve, alongside his fellow snipers, maintained their positions in hidden and well protected, their faces contorted into grins as they fired. Amidst their laughter, they faced a band of local terrorists, untrained and clumsy, which to them felt no more strenuous than a daily exercise.The air was thick with tension, the smell of gunpowder and fear intermingling as bullets zipped through the air. Steve and his comrades, skilled and unyielding, effortlessly took aim at the approaching enemy trucks from far away. With precision, they targeted the heart of the machines – the engines and fuel tanks – causing fiery explosions that rendered the vehicles useless.The remaining terrorists, now on foot, dashed towards the village from far away. But in the open field, they were nothing but easy targets, lambs to the slaughter.I stood there, a wry smile playing on my lips. Even if they sent a hundred men, I