
Traveling to ancient tribes to build infrastructure
I woke up with a splitting headache, only to realize I had transmigrated into the body of a fragile rodent-variant female in a brutal, mutated wasteland.
Before I could even process my new reality, I was shoved into a mandatory pairing auction. The guards gave me exactly ten seconds to find a partner, or I would be sent to the deadly border patrol squads as cannon fodder. Three massive, heavily scarred mutants with greedy eyes immediately locked onto me, ready to claim me as their plaything.
Desperate for a legal shield, I scrambled away from the brutes and made a shocking choice. I walked straight up to the one person everyone else was avoiding like the plague—a sickly, pale man coughing up dark red blood in the corner.
"Partner up. I need a shield, you need a caretaker."
When the guard registered our names, the entire square erupted in open mockery. The chieftain even warned me that my new partner was poisoned, a dead man walking who couldn't hunt or protect me. In their eyes, a weakling and a dying man were nothing but a joke, doomed to freeze or starve.
But the jeering crowd didn't know two things. First, I possessed a wealth of old-world survival knowledge. Second, the fragile man sleeping on my stone bed wasn't just a dying invalid. Why would an elite silver wolf warrior with terrifying, suppressed power hide among the lowest of the low?
I didn't care about his secrets. Looking at the barren dirt behind our rundown shelter, I handed him a stone hoe. While the rest of the camp waited for us to die, we were going to build an impenetrable underground fortress.
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Chapter 3
The first ray of morning light cut through the hole in the roof, hitting Ariel directly in the face.
She groaned, rolling over. Every bone in her body ached from sleeping on the solid stone slab. She felt like she had been beaten with sticks.
She glanced sideways. Elvin was still asleep, his breathing shallow but even. She moved quietly, slipping out from under the thin blanket and stepping outside.
Behind the shelter, a patch of mutated vines grew wild. Ariel selected a few of the thickest, most flexible ones. She snapped them off and carried them back.
She sat on the threshold, her hands moving fast. Her fingers tied knots, twisted strands, and wove the vines together with practiced ease. It was a skill burned into her muscle memory from the old world.
Less than thirty minutes later, a simple fish basket sat in her lap. It had a narrow opening and a wide belly. Perfect.
The wooden door creaked. Elvin stepped out, rubbing his temples. He froze when he saw her pulling the final knot tight on the basket.
His eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of curiosity breaking through his usual dull, sickly facade. But he quickly masked it with a dry, hollow cough.
Ariel looked up. She grinned, holding the basket high.
"Come on," she said, waving him over. "Let's go to the river."
They walked down the rocky path. The camp was just waking up, the air still cool. They reached the riverbank at the edge of the camp. The water ran fast and dark.
Ariel found a deep pool where the current circled back on itself. She dropped the basket into the water, weighing it down with heavy stones.
She dug into the muddy bank, pulling out a few fat, squirming mutated earthworms. She crushed them and tossed the bait into the basket.
While they waited, Ariel scanned the riverbank. She picked up several thin, sharp-edged stones. She tested their weight and balance, then tucked them into her belt.
Half an hour passed. Ariel pointed at the water.
"Pull," she instructed.
Elvin grabbed the vine rope. Together, they hauled the heavy basket up.
It broke the surface. Water splashed everywhere. Inside, more than a dozen mutated fish thrashed wildly, their silver scales flashing in the sunlight.
Elvin stared. He looked genuinely stunned. These fish were notoriously hard to catch. Fast, slippery, and usually ignored by the camp.
Ariel smirked. She grabbed one of the sharp stones. In three swift moves, she gutted a fish, scraping out the innards and tossing them aside. She did it again. And again.
Then came the hard part. She laid a thick filet of white fish meat on a flat rock. She picked up another heavy stone and began to pound. Smash. Smash. Smash.
She beat the meat relentlessly. Slowly, the flaky flesh began to bind together, turning into a sticky paste. She spotted some wild ginger grass growing nearby. She ripped up a handful, squeezed the juice over the meat, and kept pounding to kill the fishy smell.
She built a small stove out of a few large rocks. She set their only dented iron pot on top, filled it with water from the river, and started a fire.
When the water boiled, Ariel grabbed a handful of the sticky fish paste. She squeezed her left hand into a fist, and using her thumb and index finger, she forced a perfect, round ball of meat out. She flicked it into the boiling water. Plop. Plop. Plop.
The white balls bobbed to the surface. A rich, savory aroma exploded into the air. It was incredible. Nothing like the burnt, gamey smell the camp was used to.
Elvin swallowed hard. His throat bobbed visibly. His eyes were locked onto the pot.
Ariel fished out a steaming ball with a stick. She blew on it twice and held it up to Elvin's lips.
"Eat."
He hesitated for a second, then opened his mouth. He bit down.
The texture was springy, bouncy. The flavor was rich, fresh, and deeply satisfying. It burst across his taste buds. It was a sensation he had never experienced in this wasteland.
His eyes flew wide open. He stared at Ariel, this dirty, skinny girl, like she had just performed a miracle.
Ariel saw his shock. Her smile widened.
"Let's make it official," she said. "Permanent partnership. Lifetime registration."
Elvin chewed slowly. He swallowed. He didn't even pause to think.
"Yes."
He nodded.
They poured the rest of the soup into a wooden bucket and hurried toward the center of the camp. They had to see the chieftain.
As they walked, Ariel looked down at the hard, yellow dirt under her feet. In her mind, she wasn't just seeing dirt. She was seeing blueprints. Foundations. Walls. An underground fortress.
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8.2
For three years, nineteen-year-old Ella Campbell rotted in a freezing psychiatric isolation room.
Her billionaire family didn't visit her once, only pulling her out today to force her to publicly apologize to Ashlyn, the perfect sister who had framed her.
At Ashlyn's glamorous engagement gala, Ella was treated worse than a stray dog and forced to watch her childhood sweetheart propose to her sister.
When Ella showed no jealousy, her brother Ivan dragged her onto a dark balcony and nearly choked her to death.
Her mother didn't even check if Ella was breathing, merely ordering a makeup artist to paint thick concealer over the dark purple handprints on Ella's neck so the family's stock price wouldn't drop.
Standing under the blinding stage lights in a shapeless gray dress, facing three hundred mocking Wall Street executives, Ella was supposed to be the broken, obedient psycho the Campbells needed.
"I am deeply sorry for the pain I caused."
She was supposed to end the apology there and bow to her abusers, but Ella didn't shed a single tear.
"My only regret is that I didn't insist on waiting for the police to arrive that night. I deeply regret that I didn't demand a full, legal toxicology report to prove to everyone exactly what happened."
As the ballroom erupted into suspicious whispers and her paralyzed twin brother finally saw the violent bruises hidden beneath her makeup, Ella's counterattack against the Campbell family officially began.

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.

7.8
My abusive ex was threatening a lawsuit that would destroy my father's career and wipe out my PhD. I was completely out of options.
That night, Graham, the boy from next door I hadn't seen in a decade, showed up at my apartment in the middle of a hurricane. Now a wealthy orthopedic surgeon, he offered a transactional marriage: he needed a local wife to keep his family away while he cared for his sick mother, and in return, he would make my ex disappear.
I thought it was a simple deal. But the morning after we signed the marriage license, Graham didn't just scare my ex off—he ruthlessly dismantled him. Then, Graham turned to me. His eyes were dead as he pulled out his phone, showing me a high-resolution photo of the night I illegally sold lab samples to pay off my ex's initial blackmail. He had hired a private investigator to stalk me. If that photo leaked to the FDA, I wouldn't just lose my degree; I'd go to prison.
"I needed a guarantee," he said flatly.
I was shaking with rage and terror. This wasn't a rescue. It was a hostage situation. Why did he hunt me down? Why use my darkest secret to trap me in this twisted marriage?
I couldn't live like this. I demanded an immediate divorce. But at the courthouse, the clerk dropped a bomb on us: state law required a mandatory thirty-day waiting period. Thirty days trapped with a ruthless, manipulative stranger. I had to find a way to break his leverage before the month was up.

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.

9.7
Eighteen months ago, the man I loved shattered my heart, claiming everything between us was a mistake. Now, he's back, a ghost of his former self, a rookie tryout in my pro esports team. And I will make him regret crawling back.
Clifton, captain of a legendary esports team, was secretly battling a severe wrist injury that threatened his career, every match a fight against his own body. He pushed through the pain, ignoring doctors' warnings, desperate to maintain his god-like status.
His world was already on the edge, but nothing prepared him for seeing Justice Terry again in the team basement. Justice, pale and trembling, his eyes wide with naked terror, was now a rookie tryout.
Clifton had spent a year and a half trying to forget that rainy Chicago alley, the raw revulsion in Justice's eyes, the whispered "it wasn't real" that had left him heartbroken. Justice had vanished, and Clifton had erased every trace. Now, the boy who once looked at him like he was the sun was back, flinching at his touch, displaying a deep, primal fear. Amidst sponsor pressure and whispers of being "washed," Clifton saw Justice's return as a chance for vengeance. He publicly humiliated Justice on a live stream, forcing him into a suicide mission, then coldly benched him.
Yet, the satisfaction never came. Instead, a hollow emptiness and a torrent of questions: What had truly happened in the past? Why was Justice here, and what trauma had carved such fear into his bones?
Clifton, unwilling to be fooled again, swore to uncover every secret and every lie. He would force Justice to explain why he had returned, even if it meant tearing down everything they both had left.

8.3
Imogen Montgomery was the perfect billionaire heiress, deeply in love and ready to marry her fiancé, Clark Ellis.
That all ended the night her cousin Kathleen ripped the sapphire pendant from her neck and pushed her into a pool of toxic chemicals to die.
Two years later, Imogen's eyes snapped open. But she didn't wake up in a hospital. She woke up tied to a stained mattress, trapped in the battered body of Briana, a teenage girl from the slums who had just been sold to a local trafficker.
After violently fighting her way out of a cheap motel, she discovered the horrifying truth. Kathleen had taken over the Montgomery Group. She had locked Imogen's grieving parents away in a psychiatric facility as prisoners.
And worst of all, Kathleen was now flaunting her stolen wealth online, preparing to marry Clark.
A wave of pure, white-hot rage boiled in her blood. Kathleen had murdered her, stolen her family, and was playing the perfect grieving cousin. How was she supposed to fight back? She was just a runaway nobody now. If she tried to expose the truth, Kathleen's security would shoot her dead in the street.
She needed a weapon. She needed a shield. She needed the one man Kathleen feared.
Covered in mud and blood, Briana intercepted Clark's car in the freezing rain. She was going to infiltrate his home as his vulgar, unhinged fake mistress, and she would drag Kathleen straight down to hell.