Malory
Morgan and Merlin’s Excellent Adventures
The Soar Chronicles
Morgan and Merlin’s Excellent Adventures
Complete Trilogy
When Merlin needs a hero to save the world, he gets... well, me.
Fan-bloody-tastic.
I was supposed to be dead. Instead, I wake up face-down in Dark Age mud, possessing some poor bastard's body, while the ghost of history's most famous wizard rambles on about being murdered, cosmic energy and the end of all reality.
Just one tiny problem: I know about as much about cultivation as a pig knows about particle physics.
Now I'm fumbling with mystical energy that feels like juggling nitroglycerin, trying not to get shanked by everyone and their grandmother, and dealing with Merlin's constant "helpful" commentary.
Something dark is rising in Arthurian Britain.
Something that made even Merlin scared. They say fate has a sense of humour. Turns out it's the kind that laughs while setting your hair on fire.
Welcome to the Dark Ages, where cultivation meets chaos, and the only thing sharper than a sword is my questionable wit.
Nothing ruins your day like a quest with a ransom note.
Especially when you're a fake wizard with real problems.
I was supposed to be dead. Instead, I'm stumbling through medieval Britain with Merlin's ghost backseat-driving my magical education.
And now? Princess Guinevere's gone missing, and everyone's looking at me like I'm supposed to know what to do about it.
Fantastic.
Nothing says "qualified wizard" like leading a rescue party of misfits—a prince with anger issues, a berserker who thinks diplomacy means hitting people slightly less hard, and me, still trying to figure out which end of my sword shoots fire.
Between dodging Saxon war parties, navigating the Enchanted Forest, and searching for a Dark Tower that's playing hard to get, I'm starting to think death might have been the easier option.
Welcome to the Dark Tower, where the quests are impossible, the magic is unreliable, and historical accuracy is someone else's problem.
When the kingdom wobbles, there's only one way to steady it—grab a legendary sword. Simple, right? Wrong.
King Arthur's sitting on the British throne, but not everyone's buying the whole “Once and Future King" schtick. Apparently, what he needs to shut up the doubters is the Dark Blade. You know, the one. Massive sword which is oddly stuck in a rock, guarded by a soggy woman handing out weaponry like it’s the prize in a raffle. (Seriously, who came up with this system?)
Enter me—baby Cultivator, reluctant hero, and professional screw-up. Now I’m stuck leading yet another merry band of misfits, this time into the Land of the Fae. Spoiler: it’s less "fairy tale" and more "acid trip with a murder problem." The locals don’t like us, the rules of reality are up for debate, and the sword? Let’s just say it's playing hard to get.
Between Fae politics, magical prophecies, and Merlin's ghost reminding me how much more work I have to do before I’m actually any good at this, this is quite the road trip.
Welcome to the Dark Blade—where the magic’s weird, the dangers are weirder, and betrayal is just a stab in the back away.
The Soar Chronicles
Ongoing Series
Welcome to Soar, where your Level, your Class, and your god decide how you live and how you die. Unless you’re Jana Lowe. Then you're all kinds of screwed.
When a High Priestess turns up dead in her own temple, the city does what it always does; shrugs and keeps moving. Corruption’s just part of the landscape, and dead holy women aren’t rare enough to make the betting books. But this particular corpse has Jana’s name written all over it, and for once, that might not be a bad thing.
Once, he had a Class, a patron god, and a future. Now? He’s broke, suspended, and, worst of all, fresh out of divine favour. Just a low-Level Private Investigator with limited Skills and a very punchable face.
To crack the case, Jana has to find a way to level up without a god’s blessing, dodge the wrong kind of attention, and wade through a city where faith is currency and murder’s just part of the market. And if he lives long enough to find the killer? Maybe - just maybe - he'll be allowed to get his job back.
He’s Classless. Broke. Out of luck. But murder in Soar? That’s his kind of trouble.
When a series of gruesome murders at the Soar Museum leaves victims dissolved into necrotic slime, Lowe is the man on the spot.
In the shadow-drenched alleys of Soar, Inspector Jana Lowe is walking a treacherous line. His badge restored but his Class still stripped, he's a man with precious little to lose and a desire to reclaim his former glory.
Delving into the city's underbelly, Lowe confronts Grackle Nuroon over a conspiracy with more twists than the labyrinthine Dungeons lurking beneath their feet. With each clue uncovered, Lowe begins unlocking Skills the Council would rather remain buried.
But progression comes at a price. As godly forces transform parts of the city into a Dungeon, Lowe must navigate deadly traps, battle monstrous entities, and outwit adversaries who are not at all what they seem. With his Level steadily rising, the stakes raise even higher. Can Lowe grind his way?
Because remember; in Soar, the past isn't just a memory—it's the endgame boss.
No Class. High Stats. Deadly Skills.
Jana Lowe is back in action, badge in hand, but still a man without a Class. When the ruthless serial killer, the Black Knight, resurfaces, leaving Lowe's colleagues dead in the streets, it's personal. Driven by revenge and armed with unique abilities, Lowe must dive headfirst into the dark heart of Soar City, where only levelling up will mean he can survive.
But the Black Knight is just the tip of the iceberg. The trail leads Lowe to a high-security Vault, a priceless artefact vanished into thin air, and powerful players—including the Mayor and the Warden of Reserves—wielding influence from the shadows. And, of course, behind it all stands Arkola, a manipulative deity pulling strings that threaten the city's very existence.
As Lowe's Skills evolve, unlocking dangerous new abilities, he's forced to confront not only shapeshifting assassins but also ghosts from his own past. The deeper he digs, the clearer it becomes: the Black Knight isn't just an enemy; he might well be someone Lowe once called friend...
In Cuckoo House, the coffee’s burnt, the boss bites, and the corpses never stop coming.