Chaister’s POV “Oh, rejoice, my dear ones, rejoice together with your lord, for the day has come! What a sight to behold!” I said to my Veltalas. I felt his presence in my realm as soon as he stepped a foot on its ground. The day the pile rider Nepenthern finally came to plead a favour from my chaotic self. Me, the one who had always been looked down upon, is sought by the powerful god of all gods. The vain bastard is finally about to fall, and he needs mere me to upkeep his ass on the throne. “I shall be back in a jiffy to devour your succulent honeypot fannies, so don’t go anywhere, my shambolic urchins. I have some backbreaking drudgery to do.” I said to the harem of Veltalas, whose dance mixed with the shadows which swirled around them in a lewd and sin-provoking way, just the way they knew I liked. While twirling, brushing and crawling lasciviously around me, Veltalas were snaking their tout and lithe bodies to nudge me, plaguing my body with their ha
Chaister’s POV "Very well, Nepenthern," I said casually as I sat back to my throne, with a smirk widening every second. Goddamit, I just couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop myself from gloating. “Let us savour this transcendent moment, the moment of your humiliation together, shall we?" With that said, I snapped my fingers, and my faithful minions reappeared, spreading across the court. Everyone looked like they were going about their business as usual. But well, I am ruling this realm for far too long to fall for that trick. It is part of the role to play—the role I have assigned them with. I waved my hand, signalling them to stop and listen to my announcement. “My dear chaotic friends.” I paused my speech to see if I had the attention of everyone in the court. All eyes were on me, just as it was meant to be. I scratched my chin, dramatically cleaned my throat and chuckled before I continued: “…well, calling you friends might be a bit exaggerated, as we are not fri
Chaister’s POV We came and visited Leirathe, and although I am more powerful than him, some sense of unease washed over me when our gazes met. There is something spooky about him, and whatever that foreboding crap was, it sent the jitters down my spine, although it shouldn’t have, for I am the Chaos. We celestials are usually out of ordinary tall, but this guy is an unusually stubby, short bloke. His head looked like it was rammed and thrust to stay jammed on his stumpy little body. His dry, sunken face of flaxen-like colour is crowned with an extreme overbite, which makes his jaw look horselike. Leirathe sported thin, greasy hair; it was cut down to a bowl-cut hairstyle. He has big ears and thick glasses which sit on his beak-like nose. All in all, Leraithe is the epitome of an overall unimpressive appearance, to put it lightly. The one who looked at him couldn’t find any divine trait in him. I don’t know if that is part of his trickery as well. H
Chaister’s POV “Is this the price you are willing to pay?” The ba.stard asked brazenly with the light, covert smirk he so desperately tried to suppress. I pulled Nahevra–the stupid cock socket, for her sleeve, and we moved a few steps aside as soon as Leraithe, the trickster dickhead dared to utter those words. “Oi, If the thought of sacrificing…MY…son… crossed your mind for even a second, I swear, this will be the last thought that ever crossed your mind, you bloody slag!” I gritted the threat through my teeth, hoping my muttered tone was low enough to prevent Leraithe from hearing us. I am warning you, you clapped slapper; if a hair falls off Meeran’s head, I will send my beasts to sh,ag every fucking cesspit-like hole of sweet little Maree’s body until they don’t blast her with the co,cks. And tell you what, I will make you and little Lev watch it before I dig his eyes out and strangle him in front of you. Be aware though bitch; I will not kill you aft
Lev’s POV Do you agree, little Angelev!?” She asked me, and I could feel the change in her aura. She seemed sad and worried. I just nodded as I lost all the confidence I had seconds ago. I was paralysed with the fright. The last thing I saw was the gloomy and dark inside of the banned spell room. The room looked dark, old, cold and scary. Whenever we passed by, Maree would remind me that I must not enter it, and I would always imagine what it was behind those doors. I imagine it to be small and crammed with grimoires, magic herbs, spices, and some mystery stuff. And these were the things that were indeed hoarded here, but the room was as big as the playground for the Olympic Games. Every dull and dark corner, nook and crevice of the room appeared filled with mystic, occult, twisted and nightmarish omens of a fairy tale gone wrong. The walls would seem to loom and lean inwards, painted in dark hues that swallow the light and cast eerie shadows in every corner. Some fu
Erzelus’s POV I looked at the dreaded, infamous Macabantran cells and their central arena, which once stood as a symbol of power, control and malice of Macabantrah and Wengarthria. These ancient dungeons are in the heart of the seventh circle of hell, a place feared by all. These dungeons are now saturated with a melee of trampled and desecrated carcasses of fallen demons, which were lying scattered and mutilated across the arena. The stench of sweat and death was suffocating while blood poured from every little corner as if someone had opened the tap. The arena where I stood enslaved by Nahevra just moments ago. The arena where she pitched me to fight against Kandreah. The arena where she commanded him to turn me into a hybrid of celestial, human Lycan and vampire, aiming to make me the greater monster than I already am. The arena where I almost lost a fight against Meeran. That would be the first fight I ever lost, although I have been through thick and thin all my life while
Aralyn's POV My story began with love between Malleteagan and Larissa, my parents, which somehow evolved into a never-ending hatred and Malleteagan’s desire for death. Mine death and that of my mother. It is a dark, misty night. Mid-autumn rain sticks on my dirty and torn clothes, mixing with mud, leaves, and branches we picked up while grazing through the forest. Brushes, stems, and trees cut through my clothes and expose my skin even more. My lungs burn from exhaustion, and sweat breaks out in big lumps. I am out of breath and have difficulty picking up the pace with my mother. If she weren't holding my hand, I would fall behind. I would fall directly into the merciless jaws of our predator, Malleteagan. My mother was outsmarting him for years by running away from him and from his desire for our blood. We have been running since the day I was born. No, strike that, since the day I was conceived, as my mother told me. He was always on our tails, despite my mother being a de
Aralyn’s POV While failing to learn from my past mistakes, I glanced back again quickly, and I saw my mother's shadows projected out of her body while my father was in his Lycan form. His Lycan looked like your worst nightmare, like the beast that came straight out of the ninth circle of the inferno. A bear-sized, massive, two-legged monster that looked like an enraged, sadistic, homicidal wolf on a hunt. His obsidian fur glistened blindingly in the hazy night as he shifted before my mother. If the reason for his shift weren't so daunting, just looking at the shine of his fur would make one mesmerised. The only light point on the deadly mass of charcoal black fur were his eyes, now radiating between neon grey and glacier white. The beast before us was truly magnificent and beautiful. Scrap that, nothing beautiful in here, I thought to myself next second when I saw his dragon-like fangs dripping foamy saliva, snarling and snapping towards mother rabidly. He looked monstrous, mur