Bound To The Exiled S-Class Monster
Halie woke up to a sharp pain and a terrifying reality. She was in a new body, her face covered in a hideous web of scars, and her spiritual power reduced to a pathetic D-Class.
Before she could even process the memories of being framed, her bedroom doors were violently kicked open.
Her sister Seraphina sauntered in with a venomous sneer, followed closely by Halie's S-Class fiancé, Jett.
"Look at the disgrace of the Avila family. What a waste," Seraphina mocked, throwing a mirror at her bed.
"I can't be tied to a cripple. As an S-Class, I have to break our engagement," Jett added, his gaze full of disgust.
The nightmare didn't stop there. Her father called, screaming about how she had shamed the family name. He officially stripped her of her inheritance, froze all her accounts, and exiled her to the decaying Southern District to rot.
To make matters worse, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly echoed in her skull, warning her of an impending genetic collapse. Without an immediate energy infusion, she would face total organ failure in thirty days.
A ruined face, a treacherous family, a world that wanted her dead, and a literal death clock ticking in her brain. The original owner had died in absolute despair, a tragic victim of sheer cruelty.
But if they thought she would just sit there and die, they were severely mistaken.
Armed with a mysterious system and her brilliant scientist mind from her past life, Halie packed her bags. She chose the craziest survival quest: head to the slums, find the exiled, sterile S-Class "madman" Coleman, and cure him to harvest his life energy. It was time to start her counterattack.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 3
Just as Halie pushed open the heavy iron gate at the back of the Avila villa, her terminal vibrated violently. Her father's name, Maximilian Avila, flashed on the screen.
She answered with a cold smile. Maximilian's furious roar blasted from the speaker, making her ear ache.
He screamed at her for hitting her sister, for shaming the family name. He officially, and with great relish, stripped her of her inheritance rights.
Then came the final judgment. "You are hereby exiled to the Southern District," he declared, his voice devoid of any warmth. "You can rot there for all I care."
Halie didn't cry or beg. Instead, a calm, almost pleased tone entered her voice. "Okay." Then she hung up.
The phone call had saved her the trouble of making an excuse to leave. Her destination was now officially sanctioned.
As dusk settled and a storm brewed on the horizon, she arrived at the underground black market. The hood of her sweatshirt and a deliberately lowered voice hid her identity.
She entered a dimly lit pawn shop, slamming the duffel bag onto the scratched counter. A cloud of dust puffed into the air.
The greedy pawnbroker tried to lowball her, his eyes glinting with the kind of disdain reserved for fallen aristocrats.
Halie said nothing. She simply let a tactical knife slide from her sleeve into her hand. She casually dragged the blade across the countertop, carving a deep, clean line into the wood.
The broker's eyes widened. The undisguised killing intent in her gaze made a cold sweat break out on his forehead. He quickly revised his offer to a fair market price, transferring the credits to her anonymous account.
With the money secured, Halie didn't waste a second. She hailed a battered hover-taxi on her terminal, paying a premium for a driver willing to go to the Southern District.
The taxi sped through the storm, the glittering neon lights of the city slowly giving way to decaying industrial ruins. The contrast was stark.
Halie leaned back and closed her eyes, replaying the system's data on Coleman, running through every possible scenario for their meeting.
Two hours later, the taxi screeched to a halt at the end of a pitted, unpaved street, kicking up a cloud of acrid dust.
"Out," the driver snapped, clearly anxious to leave. This place felt cursed.
Halie stepped out of the car. The wind whipped sand against her scarred cheeks, stinging her skin. She pulled her hood tighter.
Dragging her suitcase, she followed the weak signal on her terminal's map toward the only lit building in this wasteland: the Southern District Biological Research Institute.
The institute's gate was rusted and imposing. As she approached, two burly, hostile-looking guards blocked her path.
They mocked her hooded appearance and demanded a steep entrance fee.
Halie didn't argue. She slapped a wad of freshly exchanged cash onto one guard's chest and spoke a single name, her voice cold.
"Coleman."
At the mention of that name, the guards' expressions shifted. A flicker of fear, of apprehension toward that "mad scientist," crossed their faces. They silently stepped aside.
Halie walked through a dim, damp corridor. The air was a nauseating mix of disinfectant and the smell of something rotting, something vaguely plant-like.
She stopped in front of a heavy, sealed metal door. The name 'Coleman' was scrawled on it in faded red paint.
She took a deep breath. Just as she raised her hand to knock, a loud crash of shattering glass erupted from within, followed by a low, bestial growl.
A powerful wave of spiritual energy pulsed through the metal door, making her head spin. The system's red alert flashed frantically in her vision.
"Alert: Target Coleman is on the verge of a spiritual power riot. Danger level: SSS. Host is advised to evacuate immediately."
Halie didn't move. Her eyes narrowed. She entered the universal override code provided by the system. With a soft beep, the metal door hissed open.
The moment it opened, a violent gust of energy and glass shards blasted toward her. She instinctively threw her arm up to shield her face.
Through the gaps between her fingers, she saw him. The man in the center of the room, panting like a caged animal.
His silver-gray eyes locked onto hers, filled with nothing but the desire to destroy.
You may also like
8.6
I was the youngest Paladin in history, the absolute pride of the Azure Blade.
But after a disastrous mission in the snow, I was falsely accused of slaughtering my own squad.
Grand Master Bernardo Rowe didn't just exile me; he surgically severed my connection to the magic Aether, turning me into a crippled mortal.
Desperate to survive, I tried to climb the Holy Stairs to reclaim my legendary sword, "Rebellion."
Instead of answering my call, my own blade shrieked in absolute rejection and blasted me down the thousand stone steps.
My bones snapped like dry twigs, and I was left in a pool of my own blood.
The pilgrims laughed at me. The guards declared me a lost cause and left me to rot in the dirt.
I should have died there, betrayed by the Order and the holy magic I once served.
But a silent, massive laborer named Cato Sims dragged my mangled body into the shadows.
He healed my shattered skeleton in mere days with impossible skill, yet he allowed lowly servants to spit on him and beat him just to keep my presence hidden.
I didn't understand why my holy sword had abandoned me, and I understood even less why this stranger was protecting a condemned criminal.
When I finally snapped and demanded to know his price for saving my life, he didn't ask for money or my body.
"The mountain does not forget its debts. I am reclaiming what was taken from it."
Staring into his unyielding eyes, I realized my exile wasn't the end, but the beginning of a terrifying truth.
9.3
Born into privilege, Eleanor never imagined her life could shatter in a single night. Then her father disappeared with his mistress, her mother fell from a building and slipped into a coma, and everything she once owned turned to dust.
Determined not to ruin Jonathan's future with her family's disgrace, she ended their relationship and became the bride of a man trapped in a vegetative state.
She believed that was the last time their paths would cross. But two years later, Jonathan pinned her in the dark and whispered, "Long time no see, my sister-in-law."
7.3
Naelis Haldrith is many things, daughter to the South's most strategic Alpha, an Omega with Alpha genes, and an unapologetic misfit. During summer break, she decides to journey to Frostpine and spend her heat cycle with her boyfriend, the golden pea of the Thalric pod.
But during a collared moment, a secret of his is revealed, and Naelis realizes that their relationship was more complex than it seemed. Choosing to return to her pack, she steps outside under a storm, and it is at that moment she crosses paths with a man she had never seen before.
Zoran Vyer Thalric. Uncle to her ex. Member of the Elder's Council. The otherworldly primordial with red-ringed eyes and a wolf barely chained beneath his skin. Desire sparks instantly, and her sights are immediately set on him, but... he is a devotee of the Citadel, celibate, untouched, and unwilling to be the calm to her fury.
She is fire, wild and untamed. He is steel, honed and contained. And for the first time, Naelis is the hunter after her prey, and the line of resistance slowly blurs as he finds his years of enforced self-control and suppression unraveling at the tint of her touches.
And with a maniac on their radar, this summer break will demand blood, sacrifice, and passion that howls to the moon.
8.3
EDEN
8.3
Elianila, an AI Architect, is part of an elite team tasked with designing a global system meant to prevent threats, manage disasters, and distribute resources to vulnerable regions. After five years of tireless work with her colleagues, she uncovers disturbing anomalies, code-named, X-variables, that flag individuals according to criteria she never programmed.
As Elianila digs deeper to understand what the X-variables measure and where their origin, she finds herself in direct conflict with the authorities. Soon, the System marks her and her daughter as threats - targets to be eliminated.
With a small band of colleagues and dissidents, Elianila goes on the run, hiding in places beyond the Systems reach. As they evade surveillance, they race against time to warn others, expose the truth, and fight back against the omnipresent authority of the System.
7.4
Clara Davis was trained to seduce, deceive, and destroy.
Her mission is simple: infiltrate billionaire Jeffery Rothwell's life, gain his trust, and help seize his empire in exchange for the freedom she has always craved.
But the deeper she slips into his dangerous world, the more the lines between mission and desire begin to blur. Falling for him was never part of the plan and neither was discovering that the man she was sent to manipulate may not be the real Jeffery at all.
Now trapped in a deadly web of obsession, power, and hidden identities. Clara is caught between the organization that owns her, the monster who remade her, and a love that has turned into vengeance. Clara must survive a man who sees everything, controls everything, and may be far more dangerous than the organization that created her.
Because in this game of seduction and revenge, love might be the deadliest trap of all.
9.8
I was an arrogant, canceled reality TV star, trying to salvage my ruined reputation on a live broadcast.
But after I lost my temper and assaulted a cameraman, my furious grandfather chased me into our family's forbidden gallery, where I accidentally crashed into an ancient, sealed portrait.
The canvas shattered, and a terrifying woman with glowing golden eyes stepped out of the wall.
She was Cecil, the First Matriarch of the Marshall family. She caught a lightning bolt with her bare hands and crushed me to my knees with an invisible, suffocating pressure.
My grandfather, instead of saving me, groveled on the floor and abandoned me to her mercy.
"You are the disgrace that will end this family."
She hijacked my entire life, forcing me to act as her submissive baggage handler on my own survival reality show, broadcasting my humiliation to millions.
I didn't understand why this ancient monster was tormenting me. Why did she strip away my pride, treat me like a broken tool, and force me to endure the mockery of the very ex-girlfriend who had ruined my life?
But when those same cast members tried to corner me in the dark woods, Cecil stepped in front of me, her eyes locking onto the silver ring of the man mocking me.
"To catch the wolf, one must sometimes walk with the sheep."
That was when I realized she wasn't here to destroy me—she was here to hunt the parasites who had been secretly siphoning away my life force.