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Isak And Even

EVEN AS A SLAVE, THE HEAVENLY DEMON’S MIGHT SHALL TAME THE BEAUTIES

[Warning: Mature content R-18 ] My tags: Smart Mc - Harem - Milf Hunter- Op Mc - Cold and cunning Mc - edgy-Op-Mc, NO YURI, smut- romance-massacre. As flames scorched the land and blood painted the soil, a lone figure stood atop a mountain of fallen demigods and chosen apostles, his blade—a masterpiece of folded steel—dripping with the blood of those who dared to invade. The gods had taken everything: his clan, his love, leaving him with nothing but wrath. They had made one critical mistake, however—they had crossed into Makaiyama (魔界山), the sacred mountain of Ryukoku’s most feared legend: the Heavenly Demon. Beyond the veil of space and time, celestial beings gazed in shock. “Impossible…” one god whispered, watching as the Heavenly Demon, armed with nothing but raw skill and a dark aura, felled three divine kin. Rage flared across their ranks as they saw their immortal kin fall to mere mortal swordsmanship, untainted by magic. Even as the Heavenly Demon staggered, weapons lodged deep into his body, he fixed his gaze forward, crimson eyes blazing with defiance. His obsidian katana, blood-soaked, pierced the peak of Makaiyama like a stake driven into the heart of heaven itself. His voice echoed in the darkness between life and death, and there, in the chasm of despair, a metallic whisper resonated: “[Project God Executioner has been activated.]" "[Accept?]" the voice asked. With a heart ablaze, he swore vengeance. He would rise—not as a puppet, but as the gods' executioner.
Rene_Tokiori · 43.9K Views

I Am Who Will Transcends Everything Even the Heaven can't stop me

Thong was but an ordinary young man, dwelling in a remote and rustic village far removed from the bustling cities of the world. His father, the man he cherished above all, had always been the guiding light in his life. Though their bond was unbreakable, his father was plagued by a relentless illness that slowly drained the vitality from his body. Day by day, the malady gnawed away at him until, at last, the inevitable came—his father succumbed to its grip. In the wake of his father’s passing, the family’s modest inheritance was cruelly seized by his elder sister, a woman of great power and renown in the nation. She was a prominent figure in the realms of business and influence, her name commanding respect and fear alike. Yet, her heart harbored no love for their father. She took for herself everything their father had intended to share between his children, leaving Thong with nothing but despair. Wrath burned within him, fierce and unrelenting. In the depths of his anguish, he resolved upon an act most unthinkable. Ignoring the weight of law and morality, Thong took his sister’s life. He struck her down amidst her lavish comforts, her husband falling to his blade as well. The joyous life she had built crumbled in an instant, ended by her own brother’s hand. With his deed done, Thong fled to the humble village of his birth, retreating to the small hut where he had grown up. There, he waited in silence, awaiting the retribution that he knew would come. Those he had slain were figures of immense power; he was certain their allies would hunt him down without mercy. Thong sat within the confines of his hut, his heart heavy yet calm. He closed his eyes, resigned to his fate, but as moments passed, something unfathomable occurred. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself in a place entirely unfamiliar. The decrepit hut he had known was gone, replaced by a dwelling of intricate craftsmanship and resplendent beauty. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of pine and the faint hum of spiritual energy. Surrounding him was a mountain peak cloaked in thick mist, the heavens above painted with a brilliance he had never seen. His body felt different—stronger, lighter, brimming with an unearthly vitality. Slowly, he came to realize the truth: he was no longer in his own world. Somehow, he had crossed into another realm, one that bore a striking resemblance to the fantastical cultivation tales he had once devoured with fervor. Thong stood there, staring into the endless sky, his heart pounding with both fear and awe. This was a world of immortals, of boundless power and untold possibilities. His journey, it seemed, was only just beginning.
The_Ancestor_ · 5.5K Views

Transmuted : Love of an Evening

[ Lynn, Sam and Mahone ] I put my t-shirt down, my hands shaking. I try to ignore them and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair color is dark brown and a vague hint of golden. My dad used to say that my eyes are ocean blue. A guy in my history class once said that I had perfect lips. Another guy said that I had a great body. They wanted to date me. And I dated few of them, too. I brush my fingers in my forehead. Then my dark, thick eyelashes. The side of my nose. My lips. I run my hand at my neck, then across my collarbone. Am I beautiful? Honestly, I don't know. Maybe I'm not. "You were wrong, Samlin Greenham." A voice inside my head suddenly whispers. "Calm down, Sammy," another voice whispers. It's the voice I loved. His voice is fading away. My hands start shake again, my breath rapidly quickening. I am losing control. I have to do something. "Goddammit!" I punch the mirror with my fist. It shatters into thousand pieces. My reflection has shattered into thousand pieces, too. The mirror now looks to me like an art. And my bloody knuckles. "I am sorry, Lynn. I can't promise you anymore, because you left me." I bite my lip to stop myself from crying. I won't cry. What's the point of crying? My sixth sense is suddenly alert. Somebody is watching me. I spin around. A guy is standing in front of the door, leaning against it. He wears a tight blue shirt, the sleeves folded. His black hair is ruffled and his hands are folded across his chest. The probable most amazing thing about him is his eyes. They are dark green. They are dangerous, beautiful and incredibly unreadable. And they are watching me.
Faria_Samira · 34.1K Views
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