Thirty Days to Crown the Pariah
By @john1208
I was sprinting over the rain-slicked rooftops of Venzor with the royal guard's hounds snapping at my heels when I coughed up my first drop of black blood. The transmigration system sent me here to save Tavren, a frail, brilliant architect framed for heresy by the cruel Ozanari royals. What it conveniently forgot to mention was that I had exactly thirty days in each world before my own soul collapsed. With the clock ticking, I burst through the stained glass of the High Tribunal. As the entire empire condemned the coughing, discarded genius to death, I stepped before the executioner's blade and publicly claimed him as my own. My plan was simple: dismantle the royals, force-feed him the stolen elixir, and survive long enough to jump to the next world. But as Tavren's shattered core heals and his obsessive loyalty turns him into the most terrifying entity in the Khandaric Domains, I realize leaving him behind might be impossible. How long can I hide my fatal countdown from a man who now holds the world by the throat?
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