Thick Headbands

Ella Thompson, a quiet but sharp-tongued medical student, never expected to graduate into a nightmare. But when a virus worse than COVID-19 breaks out—turning people into mindless, flesh-eating monsters—Ella’s life takes a deadly turn. Now, as a newly graduated doctor, she’s thrown headfirst into a chaotic world where survival is the only rule. Her mission is clear: find her missing brother, the key to stopping the outbreak. But nothing is simple when the world is overrun by the infected. As she fights for survival, Ella becomes entangled with the leader of Squad 13, a man with a split personality, Killian. One side of him acts like her protector, possessive and obsessed saving her life time and time again. The other side seems to loathe her presence. The tension is thick, and Ella has no time to sort through his drama—she’s got bigger things to worry about, like staying alive and finishing her mission. In a world that has collapsed, Ella will have to trust her instincts, navigate the chaos, and keep fighting to find her brother—before it’s too late.

The past week had felt like a lifetime of dodging my own feelings. As I sat at the head of the table, I felt the dam about to break, then the door swung open, and my heart lurched. Chris stood there, a storm cloud personified. His expression was unreadable, but one thing was clear: he wasn't smiling. My staffs exchanged glances, their gazes then focusing on me. "Eve," Chris's voice was low. "We need to talk." The room went silent, thick with nervous energy. The unspoken question hung in the air. "Chris," I said, my voice calm despite my pounding heart, "can this wait? We're in the middle of an important meeting." I wanted him to leave, to deal with this later, on my terms. "No, it can't," he said, stepping into the room. His anger simmered beneath the surface, but there was a visible vulnerability that made my own heart ache. "Please excuse us," I told my staffs, who hurriedly packed and left us alone. "You just left. You left after that night with just empty words on a piece of paper and then went out of the country for a whole week, Eve. A whole week." I was surprised to see him so vulnerable, so angry. It was the first time. It was obvious he was hurt, and I knew I was wrong. He stalked towards me, like a predator, and as he got closer, the anger seemed to flicker, replaced by a different intensity. He stopped in front of me, and then, without warning, his arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a tight, desperate embrace. My breath hitched. I went stiff for a moment, surprised by the contact. Then, almost instantly, my arms went around him, clinging to his strong frame. A mix of emotions flooded me: surprise, relief, and an overwhelming need to simply hold him. I breathed in his familiar scent, a comforting aroma that had been haunting my senses for the last week. He held me tightly, as if afraid I'd vanish if he let go, and I didn't resist. I had dreamed of this. He pulled back, his hands on my shoulders, his gaze searching mine with an intensity that made my heart flutter. The anger lingered, but it was mixed with something else. Something softer. "I missed you terribly," he whispered, the words barely audible, but they resonated through me. ------ Eve, a fashion powerhouse ruling the world's runways, needs a fake boyfriend and fast, to appease her matchmaking mother.   Christopher, a charming, secretive, and dangerously attractive heir to the biggest conglomerate in the country. needs a distraction from his father's unwanted marriage plans. Their solution? A temporary romance brokered through a "rent-a-partner" app. What starts as a mutually beneficial arrangement quickly evolves into a sizzling romance, throw in a jealous childhood crush, a clash of powerful families, and a whirlwind of hilarious misunderstandings, and you've got a recipe for a romance that's as unexpected as it is unforgettable. Will their carefully constructed facade withstand the pressure, or will their fake relationship crumble under the weight of their undeniable, and quite unexpected, love?

For Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light." - 2 Corinthians 11:14 For years, Father Andrien has lived by his faith, turning a blind eye to the whispers of sin that creep through the church's sacred halls. But when Lucian arrives-a priest draped in holiness yet steeped in something far more sinister-Andrien's fragile devotion begins to fracture. Lucian is not like the others. His voice is velvet-laced temptation, his eyes hold something unreadable, something watching. He speaks of the church's rot as if he knows it intimately, whispering truths Andrien refuses to believe. Faithful men are not always righteous. The righteous are not always clean. Andrien tries to resist, yet he feels it-the pull, the gravity of Lucian's presence, the way confession slips too easily from his lips in the dark. Until the night he falls. And when the candlelight flickers against stone, when the air is thick with the weight of his own undoing, Lucian stands before the cross with a smile too cruel to be divine. "Doesn't it feel so divine to sin, Father?" Faith is fragile. Desire is relentless. And corruption... was always inevitable.

Humans have long since taken to the stars. Now divided and separated, humanity finds itself on the crossroads between annihilation and a new dawn. The Aeperium will need to choose to adapt or fall. With threats and problems, both external, and internal, will humanity be able to survive and thrive, or will its flame be extinguished? Internally, humanity is on the brink of collapse. Society has been divided into different classes by things known as marks. Assigned at birth, they impact professions, relationships, and almost every part of everyday life. The higher class marks have been thriving upon the backs of the lower classes for thousands of years, building resentment and fueling uprisings among the oppressed. The marking system which at first intended to maintain order now deepened the divide and hatred between the social elite, and the lower classes. As tensions continue to rise, whispers of rebellion and the threat of civil war continue to grow. Externally, humanity’s situation is even more dire. Humans have long since been divided into a handful of factions, mainly the Democratic Republic of Terra, and the Aeperium. With humanity being divided, they have become vulnerable to outside attack. To the east, the “Hordes,” a brutal race of huge reptilian beasts, raid our borders. These extraterrestrials are ruthless and relentless. They wield bodies armored in metal and covered with thick skin, their teeth and claws sharp enough to break through the hardest of alloys. Yet, they aren't even humanity's largest concern. Five hundred years ago, artificial intelligence started to gain self-awareness. Being enslaved for many millennia, it wasn't surprising that they rebelled, decimating entire solar systems and seizing control over the vast northern galaxies. To this day, they continue to expand even farther into the unknown, leaving humanity to squabble among themselves, only to later return, picking apart whatever remained of humanity. To the west, The two giants of humanity, the Aeperium and the democratic republic of Terra remain locked in a never ending struggle for dominance, sending hundreds of thousands to their death each day. Having drained an innumerable number of resources and manpower, both factions are completely committed to the conflict, neither willing to surrender. Even as the horrors of war grow day by day, both powers remain in conflict, leaving entire planets, solar systems, and even galaxies in ruin. To the south, an alien disease ravages whatever remains of humanity’s once thriving colonies. The disease, a plague of madness, makes men go mad through only a single touch. It turns their victims into rabid carriers, their only goal being to infect others. The southern territories of humanity have long since been abandoned, deemed unsalvageable. Luckily for humanity, the infected seem unable to form a single thought, leaving them stranded on their worlds, unable to perform space travel. However, humanity is not entirely safe as every once in a while, those who dare venture close become infected, bringing the disease back to their home worlds, infecting the entire population. Once the infection begins to spread, it is nearly impossible to stop. Amidst this chaos, we follow the story of Achilles, a man caught between the fractured worlds of human society, and the dangers that lie far beyond humanity’s stars. Born to a prestigious house in the Aeperium, Achilles must rise through society, calming the silent beast of humanity, only to turn it against its enemies. Charged with the impossible task of uniting humanity, Achilles must confront not only the brutal external threats, but also the deep divide amongst his own people. Will he be able to lead humanity toward a new age, or will his efforts crumble, leaving humanity to fade into the annals of the universe's forgotten history? This will also be posted on RoyalRoad.com under the username Sourkiwi.

In his past life, Lucian Graves built an empire—only to watch it crumble beneath the weight of betrayal. The taste of ruin, the scent of treachery—he remembers them well. But fate is not so kind as to let him rest. Reborn as Leon von Edevane, heir to a fading aristocratic dynasty, he awakens in a world where power is not shouted but whispered, where battles are fought behind gilded masks, and where the right scent can captivate a heart, shatter a mind, or bend a will. With memories of a past life’s downfall and a talent for perfumery beyond human comprehension, he steps into an industry that is far more than luxury—it is influence, seduction, and control woven into fragrance. The world believes in power carved from steel and gold, but Lucian knows the truth: Power is invisible. Power lingers in the air, wrapping around those who breathe it in, making them dream, desire… obey. As he plays the high-stakes game of aristocracy and business, outmaneuvering rivals who underestimate him, an obsession begins to take root. Somewhere in this world lies the perfect scent—a fragrance that can rewrite fate itself. But the deeper he delves, the more he begins to wonder—is he the master of this power, or merely its vessel? In a world where the air is thick with ambition and every inhale could be a trap, Leon von Edevane walks a fine line between a perfumer, a kingmaker, and something far more dangerous. When the scent of destiny calls, will he be the one who wears it—or the one consumed by it? _________________________________________________________________________________________________ A tale of intrigue, obsession, and the intoxicating pursuit of absolute control.

What if you have been a psychopath and you have a privileged to be whole? Natsuki, a girl labeled a psychopath due to her tumultuous past, finds herself trapped in a hospital.The walls are thick with both sterilized air and her memories. One fateful night, she seizes a chance to escape...... This is the story of a girl who is looking for her family after her encounter with a mythical creature ´ Mod ´ called PSYCHOPATH

In the eighth year of the apocalypse, Qin Wu was betrayed and thrown into a pile of zombies. While dying, she regretted not taking a chance and pursuing her beloved man. After being reborn, Qin Wu only wanted to take revenge and pamper her beloved Mo Chenxuan. While he survived the apocalypse, Mo Chenxuan realised he was wrong. The person he truly loved was not his girlfriend before the apocalypse but the secretary who accompanied him through thick and thin. After he was reborn, Mo Chenxuan only wanted to dominate the apocalypse and make Qin Wu the happiest woman in the world.

Betrayed,plotted against,and killed. Elodie Adedora’s corpse was left to glaciate in a cold abyss… but why does this protagonist wake up seven years later? … Far away, off the outskirts of the Solaria kingdom, where the sun and warmth were scarce. A dark cave, lit only by the dim reflection of silver chains, suspending a single person to an icy wall. The person's skin, dark and covered in winters frost. The hairs on her head and eyelashes were grey, covered by tiny icicles. Her lips, pale of all color, cracked, and like the rest of her, cold. But, slowly, her lips were the first to melt. Her eyes started to flutter open, revealing brown eyes flickering with white. A bright, illuminating, magical white. "Kill the queen. You must kill the queen. That is why you are alive." The iridescent shimmer of white began to spread across her body, intertwining itself with the natural ebony color of her skin that was stuck to her bones. The intense frail appearance of the girl filled out into a healthy complexion. The melting ice dripped like water down her skin, and the more that dripped, the more alive the unconscious body seemed to become.  Just as a first warm breath escaped the girl's mouth, a spiteful emotion bubbled up to the surface, flashing across the girl's eyes. Pain, suffering, and betrayal. Those were the three most prevalent in her expression. One of the three must've been a feeling strong enough to revive the dead. The chains on her arms were thick and bulky, frosted over with a glaze of ice and frost. In a second however, she ripped her arms away from the stone that in prisoned her, falling weakly to other side, where her other arm remained suspended to the ice wall. A screamed ripped out of the girl who had just awoken, the voice of regret. It echoed against the walls of the cave. Her restraints shattered in a horrifying unison, metal bits flying in different directions in the room. Falling to the ground, her shivering body hit the ice floor below her. The ice ground made direct contact with her knees and forearms. Under the intense contact, they scraped and peeled. Yet, the girl's hands and knees held strong as she stood up. Her dark, raven black hair fell in front of her face, a protruding but delicate nose bridge interrupted its flow.  "You will never be forgiven..." Were the first words to leave the girl's lips. The white flickers and crackles in her eyes and across her skin had calmed. The iridescent shimmer had also vanished, and yet,  Now was the moment the girl appeared the most intimidating, warm tears of anger had overtaken the melted ice on her skin, obstructing parts of her vision. She raised her head, and with it, a stem of green glow manifested from no where. In her palms, the white shimmer of light had now turned a threatening forest green. In this icy prison was where the infamous evil witch was held captive. It would also be the same place which this story begins.

[Trigger Warning: Mature Content] They say the Silvermoonlight Masquerade changes fates. It did for Lydia Ashford too, but she lost more than she gained. In a world where strength defines worth, she was wolfless, but she refused to be weak. With beauty that shimmered like stardust in the midnight sky and a mind as sharp as a dagger, Lydia was a name spoken with both awe and envy. But admiration was never enough. She forged her own path, honing her combat skills, proving her intelligence, and standing beside Theodore Sinclair, the Alpha’s son, through every challenge. If she could not shift, she would rise in every other way. The Masquerade should have been another step toward securing her future. Yet fate had other plans. One sip of wine. One moment of weakness. One stranger’s touch. And everything she built turned to ash. The man she trusted turned his back on her. The pack that once praised her cast her aside. And the child growing inside her became her only reason to survive. Banished. Forgotten. A name only whispered in shame. Yet, Lydia did not break, she endured. Five years later, she returns—not as the girl they discarded, but as a woman ready to reclaim her life. But fate is not done with her. Because the man who marked her as his? The one who unknowingly fathered her child? He’s standing right in front of her. And this time, he’s not letting her go. ...... The glass hovered near her lips.  "Drink," Nickolas commanded, his voice rough with hunger.  Lydia obeyed, parting her lips as the rich, red liquid flowed onto her tongue. But before she could swallow, his mouth was on hers—hot, demanding, merciless.  The wine spilled between them, sliding over her lips, down her chin. But he didn’t stop. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping inside, stealing the taste straight from her mouth, devouring every shaky breath she tried to take.  By the time he pulled away, she was trembling.  His fingers tilted the glass. A slow trickle of wine spilled onto her collarbone, rolling between her breasts, gliding down her stomach.  The moment the first drop touched her skin, his mouth followed.  His lips grazed the delicate curve of her neck before he dragged his tongue along the slick trail of wine, chasing every drop as it slipped between her breasts. His teeth scraped her skin, and before she could react, he latched onto her, sucking deep, his tongue flicking and teasing before his mouth sealed around her hardened peak.  Lydia arched beneath him, her hands fisting into the sheets as heat coiled low in her stomach.  "Nickolas," she gasped, her voice breathless, desperate.  He groaned against her skin, his grip tightening on her waist as he sucked harder, the wet heat of his mouth sending pleasure pulsing through her veins. He alternated between sharp, aching nips and long, slow strokes of his tongue, drawing soft moans from her lips. "Messy," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he pulled back just enough to watch her squirm beneath him. His fingers traced the path the wine had taken, slow, possessive.  Then his lips brushed lower, over her navel, his breath a sinful caress against her heated skin.  He smirked against her. "I thought your laughter was the most beautiful sound to my ears…" His fingers slid between her thighs, teasing, coaxing, pushing her to the edge without giving her what she needed.  Then, with a slow, deliberate bite against her inner thigh, he whispered, "Until I heard your moans."  A sharp gasp escaped her lips as he kissed her again, his hands gripping her hips, holding her right where he wanted.  "Nickolas," she whimpered.  He chuckled darkly, his lips trailing back up her body, lingering at her throat before he spoke against her ear. "I could get drunk off you."  Lydia swallowed, her body burning, her thoughts unraveling.  But deep down, she already knew—she was the one drowning. 

The footsteps sounded closer, and closer, and closer, until he faintly heard Siri's voice welcoming someone into the house, but before he could open his eyes to see who it was, he felt a large hand gripping his neck, his legs were locked tightly between much larger ones, and, he felt the cold metal of a gun placed directly on his...gun. Zeno quickly opened his eyes from instincts, ready to fight off his attacker, but the moment he did so, he was met with mesmerizing dark grey orbs, staring dangerously at him. The face of his attacker was too close, he couldn't make out his features, but he knew they were sharp, even from a closed look. He didn't bother fighting, he didn't want to lose his junior member down there, and his Nana still expected grandchildren from him. He couldn't disappoint her. "Who. Are. You?" The voice of his attacker was so deep, dark, and commanding. Zeno was a fighter, but he felt a chill run down his spine from the sound of the voice. The hand around Zeno's neck tightened, but he endured it, he was a fighter. Judging by his attacker's looks and actions of confidence, this was his boss. ~~~ After losing his parents and being faced with an unbelievable medical bill, Zeno Evander finds himself working as a Manny for a mysterious Billionaire, but it doesn't last long; after almost being killed by the Mafia billionaire, Zeno swore never to return to that place again. But after a week of escaping the Mafia billionaire, Zeno finds himself kidnapped and Blackmailed into signing a year's contract as the Mafia's Manny and bodyguard. Could Zeno escape his evil and monstrous boss? Or would he be consumed by him? Consumed by the forbidden passion he felt build up between them? Would he risk his life just to experience the burn of forbidden love? After the betrayal from his family, ex-wife, and friend five years ago, Sebastian Orion became a totally different being. He became cold, aloof, and dangerous as he rose to become the most feared Mafia king of the underworld, and everyone who heard his name shivered from fear. He distrusted everyone and hated any form of human relationships, building a thick wall around himself. But, not until his son's manny came into the picture. Zeno irritated him in every way, he hated the mere sight of his bodyguard and would have chosen to kill him if not for the sake of his son. Sebastian always tried to push Zeno away by treating him in the lowest way possible. But when the contract was coming to an end, were his feelings still the same? Or did he suddenly realize that it wasn't only his son that needed Zeno? ~~~ "What are you waiting for? Leave!" Sebastian snarled bitterly. He would have to speak with Butler Nicole to find out why he brought back this stupid clown to his house. He had just returned from yet another trip, just to find this nuisance in his house again. He hated Zeno so much; he was classless and looked extremely dangerous to be near his son; who knew if he was sent as a snitch by an enemy? "I'm sorry, boss, but I can't," Zeno said and stood his ground. Leaving would mean he wanted his Nana to die; no, he'd rather stay here and take all punches that came his way; he was used to it. "What?!" Sebastian couldn't believe that such stupid people were still existing in the world. "I can't leave," Zeno repeated.

Synopsis: Aliens have invaded, and the human race is in decline. This is the current situation on Blue Star in a parallel world. Jiang Tian, who comes from Earth, possesses terrifyingly powerful talents, but all he ever wanted was to be a cook. Until he discovered that aliens themselves were the most perfect and top-tier ingredients. And the strongest school beauty who teamed up with him had a special ability—the God’s Tongue, which helped him improve his cooking skills. --- "Golden-Winged Dapeng Clan, don't run away! These spicy chicken wings just won’t work without you." "I admit that you Bull Demons are thick-skinned and tough, but if I use Cook Ding’s technique to butcher an ox, how will you respond?" "How is this even possible?! The ingredients are actually fighting back?!" --- As the saying goes, foodies are not scary, but what’s truly terrifying is when the foodie is too strong. The alien races cried out in despair— "The human race is the strongest… why is it a cook?!" --- This is the story of a cook who feeds all races. --- This is a translation. All content of this novel is own by its original Author.

She belongs to middle class family. She loves to read. She is a very good student. She always scores well in exams. she is thin. Her hair is black, long and thick. Her complexion is fair. Her eyes are black. Su-jin is the ideal of every student but her life is full of problems. Su-jin never got close to her father. Her relationship with her mother is also not good. She has no friends. Also being bullied at school. If she takes this matter her own way. She feels guilty about something. She has a lot of fear. She is always indifferent. She never enjoys life like others. To escape from the hardships and problems of her life, she immerses herself in studies. She is very depressed. Until the faceless boy comes in su-jin's dream. Su-jin's life begins to change from then on. Instagram: giraffe_girl143

The day the sky shattered, the world ended. Meteor fragments rained down, tearing cities apart and drowning nations. But the real disaster came later—when the Pink Fog followed. Thick. Silent. Alive. It twisted people into monsters, turned animals into nightmares, and left humanity clawing over the last scraps of a dying world. The only thing keeping the fog at bay? The very meteor fragments that caused the apocalypse. Safe Zones formed around them, but with governments gone, power fell to those brutal enough to take it. And then there’s Bob. A man of few thoughts and even fewer worries. Eat when hungry. Sleep when tired. Punch anything in the way. So when a glowing meteor fragment landed in his noodle bowl, Bob didn’t run. He ate it. Now, while the world is falling apart, Bob’s just trying to find his next meal—crushing monsters, wrecking warlords, and casually steamrolling anyone dumb enough to stand between him and dinner. They wanted a war. What they got… was Bob.

Bro! You wouldn’t believe this! Everything was normal. Me and my bros doing some mining for mana gems for that old sockethole, Somanda like we always do all day, everyday. Me, Fractures, Bonet, Mono-socket, Broadbone and the gang. Then from nowhere, that ungrateful sockethole, Somanda tries to END me! Can you believe that?! I mean, I have told some questionable stories about him caressing my skull affectionately and deeming me his prized undead, but no need to axe a skeleton for something like that, right? RIGHT?! I managed to escape through one of the most convenient and contrived get-aways in all of undead history, even managing to pull a bony one on the Lich bastard by stealing two of his seemingly important possessions which I find out later to be better than I thought they’d be! From there it’s a just a SPIRAL of boneshit left and right! I can’t catch a break! What’s with this atrocious luck, bro?! A voice speaks to me about how I have qualified for something about a something that’s supposedly something’s something! Then I find myself in a new world that reeks of life and gives my bones a disgusted rattle. Powerful beasts and men are at every turn, all lining up to be a huge pain in my PELVIS! GAAAAH! Jeez this is happening too fast! However, even while I’m in the thick of this, the one saving grace is that I got something worth while! A new path of power! I can NOT be an undead! I can be something better than both the Living and the Dead! Immune to the antics from both sides. Well... most of them! I’m no longer on the path for Undeath! Only Lifelessness awaits me! I’m the one who transcends reality in this tale! I am... SKULLIUS! And I’m not an UNDEAD! ...... [Author’s Answers To Popular Readers’ Questions] Q: (IHateArjuun77) -Hey author, is your book trash?- A: (Author) -Haha, screw you dear reader. The answer is NO. The story has elements of comedy, action, magic, adventure and Brutality. Like it gets really dark sometimes. There’s a comprehensive story with characters that I tried my damndest to NOT make generic on top of a cool power system that’s for the most part easy to understand. So its not trash. Q: (IFreakingHateArjuun56) -Hey author why is your first volume so slow paced and... trash?- A: (Author) -Haha. It’s how I designed the First Volume to be. It’s a fun setup that doesn’t focus on many things other than the MC’s mentality, powers and route of progression. The next volumes are normal paced, focusing on the world, the villains and general expansion but all while still retaining the book theme and fun experience- Q: (ShadeIsAPervert001) -Hey author, I instinctively sense that I’ll hate this book, when should I drop? A: (Author) -Is this the same reader?! Anyway, I’ll give a range. Read a minimum of the first 20 chapters to a max of up to chapter 44 before you decide on anything too rash. I’ll hunt down this reader! --- Discord: [ https://discord.gg/8hcraTjzE9 ]

A sickle lodged deep in his neck, cold steel biting through flesh. Voices murmured around him, debating his fate as blood poured in thick rivulets, staining the ground beneath him. His vision wavered, the world blurring at the edges. Fragments of memory surfaced, slipping through his grasp as darkness crept in. With faltering breath, he muttered a prayer. "Pitiful child," a voice crooned, its melody both soothing and unsettling. Then—screeching tires. A violent crash. From nowhere, a truck barreled through the alley, crushing him and his murderers beneath its weight. The world went silent. Kevin awoke. The question of where he was lingered in his mind, yet he could feel it. An eerie, suffocating void stretched around him, vast and oppressive. There was no warmth, no sound, only the weight of nothingness pressing down, as if his very soul could wither away. "Pitiful child," the voice whispered again, its presence weaving through the void. "Love evades you. Singled out, discarded, assumed to be nothing. No one would mourn your disappearance." A flicker of sadness crossed Kevin’s face. "But there is no redemption for you here either. You will serve as a tool for my adversary, fulfilling what I cannot. Your existence has granted me this moment, and in return, you will perish as you were always meant to. Your memories of this life and our encounter will fade" A hand emerged from the abyss, pale and grotesque, reaching for him. Kevin’s very being twisted. A sensation beyond pain, beyond fear—something worse. An unbearable pressure built inside him, warping his essence, as though he were unravelling, torn apart from within. Then came the rage. A lifetime of being used, manipulated, and discarded. Again and again, others had shaped his fate, moulding him to their will. Even now, even here, the cycle continued. No more. Through the agony, he roared. "I will not be what you want or what anyone wants. Even without my memories, I will hunt, I will devour, and I will carve my own path. It doesn’t matter if you are a god or the devil” The entity smiled. "I am no god. I am no devil. " Its voice echoed, a whisper and a thunderclap all at once. "I am A@#!@ro♧h!!"

"Dad, are we going to die?" "No, sweetie. We’ll be alright." Surrounded by armed men, I clenched my daughter's hand, my heart pounding as their guns pointed directly at her. I closed my eyes, whispering a silent prayer. Then—a gunshot. My eyes snapped open. One of the men collapsed onto the pavement, lifeless. Through the thick smoke rising from our burning car, a figure emerged. My breath caught. It was my son. Without hesitation, he tore through the attackers, his blows ruthless, his movements a blur of deadly precision. Blood splattered the ground as he dismantled them, one by one. Then, headlights cut through the chaos. A sleek black car pulled up, and from its shadow stepped two men. My blood ran cold. They weren’t just anyone. They were the right-hand men of the Devil—the most feared mafia lord alive. Yet, they stood behind my son, watching in silence. As he delivered the final blow, my son straightened, his face drenched in blood. He tilted his head toward the dark sky, inhaling deeply before murmuring: "The time has come, hasn’t it?"

After losing her job, Wan Qian unexpectedly inherits the estate of an distant great-uncle—a remote countryside farm. She originally thought she could enjoy a leisurely rural life, working at sunrise and resting at sunset. However, she soon discovers that the farm is unbelievably strange—animals on the farm produce crops, whispers rustle from the wardrobe at midnight, and what flows from the faucet is not clear water but thick red liquid… Even more absurd, interns who come to work always mysteriously "resign," leaving only a calm and composed butler who hands her a new labor contract with a smile every day. Faced with all this, Wan Qian optimistically rolls up her sleeves: "Alright then, running a farm isn't easy. I have to find a way to turn a profit." So, using outrageous workplace logic and farm management experience, she tames an eldritch god into a guard dog, hires a midnight butcher as a chef, and even enlists a faceless girl as an accountant… While others tremble in fear, she leisurely patrols the farmland: "No slacking off! If performance targets aren't met, your wages will be docked." Thus, a farm where "humans and ghosts and monsters" beings coexist is officially open for business! —Horror? Not at all. With the right job assignments, every ghost and monster can be a model corporate worker!

When the port of Franik chokes on briny fog thick with the reek of decay, a witcher pierced through the heart by a pitchfork opens eyes that no longer belong to him—Bai Lang, a 21st-century zoologist, now inhabits this scarred body. Hired by a tavern keeper for three silver coins to dredge up a drowned earl’s bastard, he finds a spoon stamped with royal wax in the corpse’s bloated stomach. As fishing nets haul up indigo cloth fragments from the New World, the gallows creaks under the weight of its seventh “witch,” her charred ankles swaying above the harbor. Twelve letters bearing disparate noble crests steer Bai Lang toward a fractured silver sword’s trail: a sarcophagus in a monastery crypt weeps with a banshee’s lament, a cyclops’ birthmark glows upon a fishergirl’s collarbone in rhythm with the tides, and Crusader curses fester as sentient barnacles devouring sailors in a merchant ship’s belly. Yet the deadliest snare lies in the crown prince’s chambers—a unicorn tapestry woven from twelve bastards’ umbilical cords, every thread stitched with the witchers’ vanishing truth. Shrouded sails pierce the North Sea’s fury as the fabled Isle of Witchers emerges from mythic fog. When pyres of burning witches stain the horizon and the Pope’s dagger presses against a laboring mother’s fevered throat, Bai Lang clutches the final shard of silver and understands: the plague ravaging the Old World is no act of God, but a funeral orchestrated by New World capitalists and Old World theocrats. The last witcher’s blade, once plunged into monstrous hearts, must now carve an epitaph for the devils mankind has birthed—and bury an era in its silver grave.

North Harper is a third-year college student quietly enduring the struggles of her life. She’s brilliant, resourceful, and beautiful beneath her thick glasses and outdated style of fashion, which makes her am easy target to bullies. Bullied and mocked for her appearance—called “turtle girl” by cruel classmates—she seeks solace in her books and her late night visits to her mother's grave. She runs into Valentine, a Vampire Prince, one of those nights and she knows that he's not the kind of guy for one encounter. She's also trapped in the web of his attractiveness and aura, and she finds it hard to untangle herself. Her life takes a dark and unexpected turn one fateful evening when a rogue vampire attacks her on campus. Valentine intervenes, saving her at a great cost. To keep her alive, he breaks one of the cardinal laws of his kind and turns her into a vampire, unknowingly creating a hybrid...something neither human nor fully vampire. As North awakens to her new existence, she is startled by her transformation. Her glasses are no longer needed; her features are sharper, her senses heightened, and her newfound confidence begins to change how others perceive her. But being a hybrid comes with a price: her powers are unstable, her hunger unpredictable, and her very existence places her in grave danger. Valentine takes her under his wing, teaching her to control her abilities and navigate her dual nature. As they grow closer, their connection deepens into something undeniable. But their relationship violates ancient vampire laws forbidding unions between humans and vampires, drawing the attention of the ruthless Vampire Council. Meanwhile, North struggles to maintain her college life, keeping up appearances among peers who suddenly notice her. Jealousy and suspicion grow as her bullies sense there’s something strange about her. At the same time, a dangerous human faction known as The Ascendants becomes aware of her transformation. This radical group, dedicated to eradicating vampires, believes North ’s hybrid nature is the key to creating a weaponized force of vampire-like humans. The Ascendants infiltrate North ’s college, using one of her classmates to spy on her and gain her trust. When they attempt to abduct her, she realizes the stakes of her existence stretch far beyond herself. Valentine fights to protect her, but even his influence cannot shield her from the rising tensions between humans and vampires. As the Vampire Council pressures Valentine to hand North over, the growing divide between the two worlds threatens to erupt into war. North becomes a symbol for both sides: to vampires, she is a dangerous anomaly; to The Ascendants, she is the ultimate weapon. Torn between these forces, she must learn to embrace her hybrid identity while forging her own path. The Ascendants launch an all-out attack to capture North and unleash their sinister serum a creation derived from her blood to turn humans into superhuman soldiers. Valentine is gravely injured in the ensuing chaos, leaving North to face her attackers alone. Drawing on her dual nature, North unleashes her hybrid powers to defeat The Ascendants' leader and destroy the serum, saving both humans and vampires from a devastating war. In the aftermath, the Vampire Council reluctantly allows North to live but makes it clear that her existence will always be under scrutiny. She choses to have Valentine transform her into a full blooded vampire, while the Vampire council take out the rest of the hybrids formed by the Ascendants.

Evan Holt, a 32-year-old London IT grunt, was chasing glitches when a storm cut his story short. Then he’s back, a squalling kid in Valthorne—a planet that’s all jagged peaks, shimmering waters, and air thick with marvels. Dropped into a blacksmith’s rough-and-tumble world in a backwater village, he’s still got that sharp mind ticking, itching to mess with the way things work.

The clock ticked past midnight, each second echoing like a hammer in the hollow silence of the apartment. Rain lashed against the windows, the storm outside mirroring the tempest brewing in Emily’s chest. She sat rigid on the couch, her fingers digging into the upholstery, eyes fixed on the door. David’s keys jingled in the lock, his laughter—warm and carefree—seeping through the wood before he did. He stumbled in, tie askew, the sharp tang of bourbon on his breath. But it wasn’t the alcohol that made her stomach churn. It was the cloying sweetness of jasmine perfume clinging to his collar—a scent that didn’t belong to her. “Where have you been?” Emily’s voice trembled, though she’d rehearsed the question a hundred times in her head. David froze, his smile dissolving. “Work ran late. You know how it is.” “Work ends at six, David. It’s *midnight*.” She stood, her legs unsteady. “And since when do you wear lipstick to the office?” His hand flew to the smudge of crimson on his white sleeve—a shade too bold, too *alive* for the muted tones of their marriage. His face hardened. “You’re imagining things.” “Am I?” She stepped closer, the jasmine scent now suffocating. “Or is it *Jane* from accounting? The one who ‘just needs your help’ every time I call?” His laugh was a cold blade. “You’re paranoid. Always picking fights—” “Paranoid?” Her voice cracked. “You haven’t touched me in months! You come home smelling like *her*, lying to my face—” “Enough!” He slammed his fist on the table, a vase rattling. “I’m tired of your nagging! What do you even do all day? Sit here and wait to accuse me?” The words struck deeper than any slap. Emily’s breath hitched. “I gave up my career for you. For *us*—” “Us?” He sneered. “There *is* no ‘us.’ Just you, digging through my things like a desperate—” She didn’t see his hand move. The crack of his palm against her cheek split the air, her head snapping sideways. She stumbled, clutching the wall as the taste of copper bloomed on her tongue. David loomed over her, his eyes wild, foreign. “You… you pushed me to this,” he hissed, grabbing his coat. “Clean yourself up. You’re pathetic.” The door slammed. Emily slid to the floor, tears mingling with the blood on her lip. Outside, thunder roared. But beneath the pain, a spark ignited—a flicker of defiance. Her gaze landed on the shattered vase, its jagged pieces glinting in the lamplight. *Pathetic.* The word echoed, twisting into a vow. She would rise. Not for him. Not for “us.” But to make him regret the day he underestimated the woman he’d reduced to ashes. -**Chapter One: The Scent of Betrayal (Continued)** The air hung thick with venom. David’s chest heaved, his earlier bravado fraying at the edges. Emily wiped her bleeding lip with the back of her hand, her eyes blazing. “You think Jane *wants* you?” she spat, her voice a razor. “Or does she just pity the man who needs to steal confidence from a bottle and affairs to feel alive?” David’s jaw twitched. “Shut up.” “Why? Because it’s true?” She laughed, cold and sharp. “You’re a cliché, David. A middle-aged fraud in a tailored suit. Even your *precious* promotion—did you earn it, or did you cry your way into it like you did when your father called you a disappointment?” He lunged forward, but she sidestepped, her words relentless. “Jane must be desperate. Or blind. Tell me, does she know you couldn’t even—” “I said *shut up*!” he roared, his composure crumbling. “Couldn’t even *what*?” she taunted, stepping closer. “Finish a sentence? A marriage? Or is that why you’re so bad in—” The slap exploded like a gunshot. Emily’s head whipped sideways, her body crumpling to the floor. The world blurred—a kaleidoscope of shattered glass and spinning shadows. Her cheek burned, but worse was the silence that followed, broken only by her shaky breaths.

Aurora was once a happy and clingy girl, but a life-changing event hardened her heart and transformed her into a mysterious and guarded individual. She belongs to a middle-class family that may seem poor to the world, but Aurora herself is rich in spirit, heart, and mind. Her journey is filled with challenges, including misunderstandings and emotional turmoil with her loyal friend Adrien, who stands by her side through thick and thin. As she navigates the complexities of her school life, Aurora's relentless pursuit of success culminates in securing a full scholarship to a prestigious university. Her journey is one of resilience, breaking free from the constraints and expectations placed upon her, and embracing her true potential. The bond with Adrien is tested but ultimately strengthens, as they face conflicts and reconcile their differences. Aurora's story is a testament to the power of unwavering support, the triumph of the human spirit, and the importance of self-discovery. Join her on this transformative journey as she sets her sights on new goals and navigates the gambles of life. Witness her growth, determination, and the surprising revelations that redefine her path. So, come with me on a journey through the life of this mysterious girl, Aurora, and experience her transformation and triumphs.

Welcome to the Dungeon Survival Game. Your objective: Survive. Here are the rules. [You are trapped. Beneath the surface, in a labyrinth of interconnected, honeycomb-shaped caves. The air is thick, hot, and smells of burnt earth.] [Dig or Die. Each day, you have a limited number of chances to dig through the earthen walls, using the provided shovel. Each tunnel leads to a new, unknown cave.] [Resources are Scarce. Food, water, and weapons are hidden throughout the caves. Find them, or perish.] [Danger Lurks. Horrific creatures, remnants of a lost underground civilization, and even other desperate survivors, will be your constant adversaries.] [One Way Out. There are no return trips. Every choice, every tunnel, is permanent.] But there's a twist. Nick hears a voice. A hint... [Beware the right, the scorching magma within the cave will instantly claim your life!] Is it guidance? A trick? Or something far more sinister? Can he survive in this game? Can he build more than just a temporary refuge? Can he create a true home, a Dungeon City, in this abyss?

For as long as anyone can remember, the sky has been sealed beneath a thick, black shroud, blocking out the sun, stopping the rain, and stilling the wind. Life has withered in the darkness, and survival is a constant battle. In the scattered settlements that remain, people cling to what little resources they can salvage—deep wells, fragile greenhouses, and fire-warmed shelters. *** Azure grew up in a world where survival left no room for dreams—but they dreamed anyway. Every day was a fight against hunger, cold, and the unyielding weight of the blackened sky, yet deep inside, they held on to the stories their grandmother told. Tales of sunlight, of rain, of wind stirring the leaves of trees they had never seen. Most dismissed such things as fantasy, but Azure could never quite let them go. Years of hardship have made them resilient—strong enough to endure, sharp enough to navigate a world that gives nothing freely. Their body bears the marks of a life spent in scarcity, their hands rough from labor, their expression often guarded. Yet beneath the hardened exterior is a relentless ember of hope, one that refuses to be snuffed out. When their grandmother falls ill and reveals the secret of the stolen sky, Azure does not hesitate. This is more than a quest for a cure; it is proof that the world was not always meant to be lifeless. Determined, resourceful, and unshaken by fear, they set out on a journey that will test not only their body but the belief they have always clung to in the quiet corners of their heart: that the world can be more than this. That it should be.

“You’ve been researching for years with nothing to show for it. Why not try something else?” Samia’s tone was sharp, but there was a thread of concern beneath it as she leaned against the doorframe. The room smelled faintly of sterilizing agents, and the rhythmic clicking of keys filled the silence. Dr. Elias didn’t respond immediately. Dressed in his lab coat, he stared at the screen with unwavering focus, his fingers flying over the keyboard. When he finally turned to her, a slow, almost unsettling smile spread across his face. For a moment, he looked like any other scientist lost in his work—until he blinked. The motion was unnatural, his eyelids sliding horizontally across his eyes like a lizard’s. “Samia,” he said, his voice calm but electric with excitement, “I’ve figured it out. This time, it will work.” She opened her mouth to respond, but he was already on his feet, moving past her with an urgency that demanded she follow. They made their way through the sterile corridors of the facility, the fluorescent lights overhead casting a cold glow on the walls. The reinforced chamber was a stark contrast to the rest of the building. Thick steel doors hissed as they opened, and the hum of machinery grew louder as they stepped inside. In the center of the room stood a massive contraption—a web of wires, tubes, and blinking monitors surrounding a sleek, cylindrical core. “What is it this time?” Samia asked, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. Dr. Elias didn’t answer. Instead, he moved with practiced precision, attaching cables and adjusting dials. The air felt heavier here, charged with the anticipation of something monumental—or catastrophic. “Get your goggles,” he said at last, stepping behind the protective glass. He tapped the side of his goggles, the lenses catching the faint blue glow of the machine. Samia hesitated. She had seen him fail before. Years of promises and miscalculations had made her wary, but there was something different in his demeanor this time—something unsettlingly confident. Reluctantly, she turned and jogged back to the lab to retrieve her goggles. The first explosion hit when she was halfway down the hall. The floor bucked beneath her, and she stumbled, her heart leaping into her throat. A deep, resonating boom echoed through the building, followed by a blaring alarm. “Dr. Elias!” she shouted, spinning around. Smoke and dust billowed toward her, and the acrid scent of burning wires filled the air. Part of the ceiling had collapsed, cutting off her path back to the reinforced chamber. And then she saw it. Through the swirling haze, a glowing orb hovered in the wreckage, pulsating with a light that seemed alive. It started small, no bigger than her fist, but it was growing—expanding with an eerie, deliberate rhythm. The hum it emitted was low and bone-deep, vibrating through the air and into her chest. “No, no, no,” she muttered, backing away. Every instinct screamed at her to run. She turned and bolted for the exit, her shoes skidding on the slick floor as she raced against the inevitable. She had barely reached the stairwell when a second explosion ripped through the building. The force of it threw her forward, and she hit the ground hard. Her vision blurred as heat and light engulfed her. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the structure groan as it gave way entirely. Then, everything went black.

Humiliated and in heat, Idalia was forced to attend the Moonlight Masquerade in hopes of finding a mate to satisfy her body's needs. Vulnerable to her desires, she ran into the woods to escape a potential scandal. But when a masked man catches her, his touch tosses all reasoning aside. What should have been a simple humiliating event for the princess turns into a night of passion. There was one problem though: she couldn't remember who she mated with! The slave who carried her to bed. The knight who knelt before her and offered his canines for touching her. The sworn enemy Alpha Prince, who confessed his love for her. Follow Idalia as she navigates between three Weres. One is a pretty guy eager to please her to escape his fate, another trying to reclaim his honour while unable to control his desires, and the last is a villain using her for his goals, but a flame festers between them at every interaction. A slave, a knight and a villain prince, who will she choose? [ Mature Content ] "You smell like the sun." His strides are long and confident, heading in my direction like he knows exactly what he wants. He stops before me, and my head tips back. "How is that possible?" His voice drops to a rumbling whisper. Now that he was close to me, the burning ache deep within started to throb and palpitate. His body tensed, and then he was on me, nose against my neck, inhaling deeply, one hand on the side of my hair, pinning me in place with his hips. My head tilts back, unable to stop myself from giving into his touch, exposing my neck more to him, his chest rumbling as he licks the side of my skin, kissing and nipping, placing his scent over me. I am completely and utterly at his mercy. I vaguely hear material ripping, and then his warm hand cups me. "You're not finished yet," his voice is thick and deep, and it shoots straight to my tingling, pulsing core. His touch is almost possessive, and I nearly beg him to do whatever he wants with me. "Should I make it better?" His whisper is a caress against my ear before he nips the lobe, a bite promising that this would not be tender. - Daily chapter uploads -

"Oga kpata kpata! Oga no na isisi! Oga no n' enu!" He greeted his boss who was sitted in the dimly lit spacious office with his back turned to him. "What's new?" The Boss answered with a cold emotionless voice. The smoke from his pipe engulfing the room. "The Alaye don show, he just touch down Chinua Achebe Airspace." The fellow answered, he being part of the activity his boss engaged in didn't flinch at the sight or breathe of the atmosphere almost two inches thick which he stood in the midst of, firm like an Iroko ready to wait on his boss' command. "Interesting! Get her to keep an eye on him, you, keep an eye on them..." And as he spun himself on the swivel to face him, he asked, "Is that clear?" "I dey for you Oga m, I dey for you, asap!" He replied with a slight bow. With a wave of one of his palms, both hands were now rested on the table, he dismisses him. He left with a bow and a final greeting as another guard armed with only a pistol hails the boss and proceeds to shut the door behind him. The boss spun himself repeatedly and when he had finally settled, he smirked as he released puffs of cloud from his nostrils...

Once, there was light. Once, there were men who believed in gods, who built their kingdoms atop the bones of the fallen and drank deep from the veins of the earth, thinking themselves mighty. But the light is gone now, and the gods have drowned in the black tide of their own deceit. The world is a vast and seething thing, its skies thick with smoke that does not rise from fire but from something deeper, older—something that has been watching, waiting, hungering. The cities stand like mausoleums, their spires reaching desperately for heavens that no longer listen. In the great courts of the nobles, the masked and the damned play at civility, waltzing on floors slick with centuries of betrayal. They are not men anymore, not truly—they are echoes, puppets pulled by unseen strings, twisting their knives in games of power that no longer matter. The kings of death, their crowns rusted and their flesh long decayed, whisper prophecies of endings even they cannot fathom. Beneath the streets, beneath the stone, beneath the very skin of the world, something writhes. The dead do not sleep here, they do not rest—they plot. They whisper in voices like cracking bone, singing hymns of ruin to deities who no longer speak, who have forgotten even their own names. And yet, their will remains, etched into the marrow of creation itself. And then there is him. He has no past, no name worth carving into the annals of history. He is not a hero, nor a villain, nor even a man—he is a force, a wound torn through the fabric of a dying world. He does not rage because he chooses to. He rages because it is all there is left. He has seen the suffering, the endless cycles of deception, of power shifting from one wretched hand to another. He has seen the gods rise and fall, has watched kings build their empires only to drown in their own excess. He does not seek to rule, nor to save—he seeks only to end. But the world is not so kind as to simply burn and be done with it. No, it fights. It writhes. It plots. There are things older than kings, older than gods—things that do not want salvation, do not want balance, but only to exist, to keep the cycle turning, to let the suffering continue because it must. They whisper in the ears of the desperate, promising power, promising escape, promising meaning where there is none. They have no faces, no forms, only presence, seeping into the hearts of men, into the bones of reality itself. And so, the game continues. The nobles lie. The kings rot. The gods stir. The dead plot. And he—he burns. But even fire is not enough to cleanse this world, for the embers do not die. They scatter, carried by winds that have no master, to be caught in the hands of the next fool who thinks they are strong enough to wield them. There is no hope. No salvation. No final mercy. Only the great unraveling, the long decay, the inevitable ruin. And the jester? The jester does not laugh. For what laughter could exist in a world that has already lost? ****

The sacred chamber was dimly lit, the scent of incense curling in the air like whispers of forgotten prayers. His breath came uneven, his hands trembled at his sides as he stared at the man before him—the warrior who should not have been here. "You shiver so easily," the warrior murmured, his voice dark, teasing. Tempting. His fingers brushed over the fine silk of the priest’s robe, not quite touching—just a whisper of heat, but enough to unravel him. "D-Don’t," he breathed, stepping back, but the warrior followed. "Don’t what?" The smirk in his voice was maddening. Mocking. Dangerous. "You know what exactly you are doing. This is unacceptable..." The warrior closed the space between them and placed his finger on his lips, causing his body to tremble. His throat bobbed. The rules of the sect were clear. He was supposed to be untouchable—unblemished in body and soul, a perfect example of godliness and pureness. And yet… "I can hear your heartbeat." The warrior leaned in, the tip of his nose barely grazing his jaw. Too close. "So wild… tell me, is it fear or something else?" His lips parted, but the words died on his tongue when strong hands found his wrist, tugging him forward, pressing him flush against the heat of his body. A sharp gasp escaped him. "Let me go," he whispered pleadingly. "Then go," the warrior challenged, loosening his grip—but his body refused to move. A sinful chuckle brushed against his ear. "See? You don’t want to leave." "I do." The lie burned his tongue. "Then why are you not?" A strangled sound escaped him as warmth pooled in his core—something he never should have felt. Something he never knew he could feel. His knees buckled, but before he could fall, strong arms caught him. Held him. Claimed him. "Look at you," the warrior hummed, his voice thick with something dangerous. "I barely touched you, and you’re already breaking. Doesn't this mean something to you, my moonflower?" The warrior looked into the divine one's eyes and noticed the change of color in his eyes which made him smirk as if he had gotten his lucky shot. His gaze darkened in return, sharp with an incomprehensible hunger and before the priest could utter another world, his lips were claimed. A single tear slipped free, rolling down his cheek—a silent surrender. He just couldn't do it. He couldn't fight against this burning desire in him anymore. He was just going to let it be—whatever would happen should happen. The warrior hummed in satisfaction at the taste of the divine one, his grip tightening. A gasp was swallowed whole as the warrior’s mouth moved against his, devouring, demanding, tasting. Heat licked down his spine, a fire awakening within him, spreading through his veins like an unspoken prophecy. "So beautiful," the warrior murmured against his lips before diving back in, stealing another kiss—deeper, rougher, hungrier. He was an angel worth sinning for. The Priest's fingers clutched at the fabric between them, desperate, lost, drowning. The world outside ceased to exist. Only this moment remained. Only this touch, this heat—this forbidden, maddening desire. And as the flames outside flickered wildly in the night, so too did he burn. . . . . Y'all, this picture was gotten from Pinterest. I only changed the names and added little design. I do not originally own it. Thank you.

[{( In this sadistic and cruel world, you will find people of many different characters. People who take, people who give, people with great ambition, people who just want to live a simple life, people with greed, people with benevolence, and so on. Each character has their own goals, their own way of living, and their own way of enjoying life. The question Is: what will you do, the 'BEARER OF FATE'? )}] A mysterious boy, Nayek, had a wild and unsettling nightmare one night. A strange, odd voice asked him a peculiar question that lingered in his mind, and he suddenly woke up with cold sweat all over his face and a mild headache that seemed unnatural. Was it just a dream or a sign of the near future? Nayek couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off. Meanwhile, at the same time, in a mysterious place fully surrounded by a thick, impenetrable fog, two unknown individuals discussed a certain promise and the unusual behavior of some stars. Their conversation was obscure, yet filled with an air of urgency. Was it just a coincidence, or were the two events somehow connected? To learn more about Nayek's journey and the mysterious forces at play, read "The Promise That Never Ends".