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.
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Chapter 4
The violent energy subsided. Halie lowered her arm, her eyes taking in the devastation. The lab was a wreck, precision instruments shattered across the floor.
Coleman stood like a cornered wolf, his hands braced on a cracked metal workbench, his chest heaving. His knuckles were white from the force of his grip.
He slowly lifted his head. When he saw it was her-Halie-the rage in his silver-gray eyes was instantly replaced by a thick, choking wave of disgust and disbelief.
A hoarse, grating laugh escaped his throat, the sound of sandpaper on glass.
He started toward her, one slow step at a time. The pressure of his S-Class spiritual power descended on her like a physical weight, forcing her knees to tremble.
Halie gritted her teeth against the crushing pain in her bones. She bit her lip, straightened her spine, and met his murderous gaze without flinching.
He stopped just half a step away, towering over her. He sneered, his voice laced with mockery. "Well, well. Look what the storm dragged in. To what do I owe the honor, Your Highness? Have you come to slum it with the rats in the Southern District?"
Her mind reeled as the original Halie's memories flooded her. She saw it clearly now: the way the former heiress had used her own spiritual power to whip this man, this genius who had been cast out by his family simply because he was sterile.
Halie didn't answer his question. She just stared at him, her gaze calm and piercing, taking in the raw pain twisting his handsome features.
Her silence was the one thing he couldn't stand. It was the same look of detached pity she used to give him, the look that said he was less than trash. It broke him.
He lunged, his hand clamping around her throat. He slammed her back against the cold metal door with a sickening thud.
Halie's vision swam as her lungs screamed for air. Her hands clawed at his wrist, but his arm, though trembling violently, was like iron.
With his free hand, he ripped open the front of his coarse shirt. The sound of tearing fabric was unnaturally loud in the silent room.
The shirt fell away, revealing a back crisscrossed with old, faded scars. Whip marks. Every single one a masterpiece of the original Halie's cruelty.
He released her throat and staggered back a step. Then, he did something she never could have predicted.
He fell.
He dropped to his knees on the floor, on the carpet of shattered glass. The shards bit into his flesh, and blood began to seep through his trousers, but he didn't seem to feel it. He just tilted his head back, his expression a mask of utter despair and humiliation, and looked up at her.
"Is this what you came to see?" he choked out, his voice trembling. "The final joke? The sterile waste, finally broken?"
Each word was a fresh wave of uncontrolled spiritual energy. The lights overhead flickered violently, hissing with stray electricity.
Halie pushed herself off the door. Ignoring the stinging in her throat, she took a step forward. Her eyes darted across the floor, her sharp mind calculating the safest path. She carefully cleared a small patch of the shattered glass with the side of her boot before she knelt directly in front of him, feeling the sharp edges of the remaining shards press dangerously close to her knees through her cargo pants, a stark reminder of the physical reality of this chaotic moment.
She reached out, her hands ignoring the cutting aura of his chaotic energy, and cupped his cold, sweat-drenched face.
Coleman flinched, a primal instinct to pull away. But her palms were warm. A warmth he had craved his entire life but had never been given.
Halie looked directly into his unfocused silver eyes. She gathered all her strength and spoke a single, clear, and steady phrase.
"I'm sorry."
The words hung in the air. His body went rigid. The collapse of his spiritual sea paused for a fraction of a second.
It was all the time she needed.
Halie closed her eyes, leaned forward, and pressed her lips firmly against his.
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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.