521 Book(s) Related to tate james hades series

Entering a new era of rebirth, equipped with the mystical "Book of Myriad Magic," unlocking its pages grants a myriad of abilities from movies, anime, and games!

"The Municipal Security Bureau is conducting a trial today for a cult case discovered on the Upper Cross Avenue. Seventeen dark wizards have been sentenced to immediate execution, and additionally, nine vampires have also received the death penalty."

Upon hearing the voice from the old radio, Li Wei wiped the short knife and handgun in his hands, embarking on a path of hunting demons!

This is the post-cataclysm era, where devils and hunters dance together, and gunfire and superpowers illuminate the starry sky!

For fifteen years, Anastasia Stafford lived a life defined by a single, cruel purpose: to serve as a living blood bank for her adopted sister.

She gave everything—her health, her talent, and her dignity—only to be discarded and betrayed by the very family she tried so hard to please.

Her first life ended in tragedy, falling from a building with nothing but regret.

But fate has granted her a second chance.

Waking up on her twenty-third birthday, Anastasia decides she is done being the silent victim.

She steps away from the toxic Stafford Family and turns to the one thing they could never take from her: her extraordinary talent for design.

She catches the eye of Richard Roosevelt , a powerful CEO who offers her a partnership rather than pity.

Anastasia is no longer just surviving;

she is systematically dismantling the family that ruined her ，and hunting for the truth behind her mother’s death.

When the lights go out, the sins begin.
Sinful Nights isn't one story—it's many. A collection of steamy, adult tales where desire rules and temptation knows no limits. From forbidden encounters to irresistible passion, these nights are anything but innocent. Slip under the sheets and let the heat consume you.

WARNING!! MATURED CONTENT!!

The heart craves for whatever it wants, Good or bad—

Tiffany had a long time secret Crush on her uncle, who looked more manly and handsome than all the guys she met.

She vows to make him her man, hook or crook. Opportunity presents itself, as her parents suddenly had an urgent business outside the country, and had to travel, leaving her in her uncle's house, for a month.

Things get intense, as her uncle turns out to enjoy her advances towards him, but can't let things go further, because of their relationship.

Will Tiffany be able to finally conquer him or will their relationship be a barrier??

And other Erotica collections.

A collection of passionate and provocative short stories where desire, temptation, and attraction collide.
Wet Hot Desire brings together intense encounters filled with chemistry, emotional tension, and unforgettable moments. From unexpected connections between strangers to rekindled sparks between former lovers, each story explores the powerful pull between people who struggle to resist what they truly want.
With captivating characters, irresistible attraction, and passionate encounters, this collection delivers steamy romances where every choice has consequences and every desire reveals something deeper.

She was an S-rank spy — cold, brilliant, unstoppable. Then her own people betrayed her, and she died.
She woke up as the family idiot everyone laughed at.
Scarred face. Malnourished. Dead last in school. Abused by her stepmother, framed by her sister, mocked by the entire campus.
The original owner of this body could take it. She couldn't.
Call her ugly? She formulates her own skincare remedy — and stuns the room.
Call her stupid? Top university presidents come knocking at her door. Legendary doctors beg for her secret formulas. Global superstars chase her down for a collaboration.
All she wanted was a quiet, ordinary life this time around.
Instead, her covers keep blowing, and without even trying, she's climbed back to the top of the world.
Meanwhile, the most mysterious young lord in the city opens her classified file from her past life. A slow smile crosses his face.
"This so-called idiot… is rather interesting."

Love lost, love chased, and love reborn—this collection of werewolf short stories weaves together tales of passion, heartbreak, and redemption.

From powerful Alphas who regret letting their fated mates slip away to strong-willed heroines who rise above betrayal, each story explores the raw emotions of second chances and self-discovery. Some wolves fight to reclaim what they've lost, while others learn that true strength lies in walking away.

As the moon guides them through pain and healing, they must decide: cling to the past or embrace the future?

In "Fated Mates Torn by Hate", experience stories of chasing love, finding self-worth, and letting go of old wounds to step into the light of a new dawn.

I was severely injured and blinded by saving Alpha Caden
After marrying, I became pregnant
Only to catch my Alpha in an affair with Beta Ava
Alpha Caden coldly mocked my uselessness
And even allowed Ava to poison me
Causing a miscarriage and disposing of my body in the sea
When I despaired, I was saved by Healer Zane
After Alpha Caden learned the truth, he was driven mad with regret
Now, I return stronger than ever.
Are you ready for my revenge?

In my last life, my parents favored my younger brother. They promised him to the angel who would remain on the surface, and shoved me to an abyssal demon.
When the apocalypse came, the angel burned through her divine power and fell. I took my family in out of kindness, and they repaid me with a bowl of poisoned soup.
When I opened my eyes again, our whole family had reincarnated.
This time, my parents couldn’t wait to push my brother into the demon’s arms, dreaming of living off him inside the abyssal lair.
I watched them sign the shadow contract like they were grabbing a priceless treasure, then took the rejected holy-light angel without hesitation.
They had no idea the Abyss’s shelter is paid for in flesh and blood.
But an angel’s loyalty can raise an iron divine kingdom that never falls, even in this world-ending flood.

With one week left until the wedding, Henry Jones asked me to reschedule the date—for one simple reason:
“On our wedding day, I’m taking Ann to the hospital for her prenatal checkup.”
Ann is the widow of his brother Ethan. She’s also my half-sister. In that private room, they laughed at me for being “almost thirty and desperate to get married.”
Ann put on an innocent face. “If Rory is really in such a rush… I can reschedule my appointment.”
I wanted to break up, and Henry frowned as he lectured me:
“As her future sister-in-law, why do you have to fight her over this one day?”
I asked him, “Do you even remember what Friday is?”
He coaxed me softly: “One day earlier or later—what’s the difference?” I nodded and said “Fine,” thinking I could still swallow it.
Until I pressed my fingerprint to enter his office and overheard Ann questioning him about inheritance, and Henry answered under his breath, “It won’t come to that—I won’t let Rory get pregnant with my child.”
That was the moment I u

Stacy was a brilliant and beautiful girl in her days in Hillary High School, Everyone want to be friend with her.

She is one of the hottest girl in the School. She was indeed the Queen in the Hillary High.

Her Parents were business Tycoons. So they were super dopey Rich.

They were not always home and not always available though they provided her with more than enough money.

She sometimes lack parental care and this has always sadden her, she never got the love and attention she needed. She was a genius, always taking the First position.

She had a lot of admirers, boys always trying to woo her but she declines them and hates to be pestered. But Luckily that's gonna change as a matter of time.

It was a new day in Hillary High School. This day was the day of Resumption. Stacy was now in Grade 11 {SS2}, she had done well asusal in collecting most Prices at the Price giving day Emerging as the Overall Best Student, but she is ignorant of a New Rivalry.

As Stacy been the goddess of Hillary High.

One day, came a god

His name is.

"Run, mi amor, run, while I watch."
"I feel his eyes everywhere, always watching!"
Ever heard of a hunter becoming the hunted?
That is what happened to Victoria Alexander.
After years of getting betrayed by her husband and best friend, Victoria returns to the city, stronger and more determined to ruin his seemingly happy home.
But things turns out sour for her as her mission for revenge turns into a game in a serial murder case.
While hunting her ex-husband's happiness and an unknown serial killer, Victoria suddenly becomes the hunted.
The thrilling part is that she isn't hunted by just anyone but a powerful shadow, hidden in the dark, watching. Always watching with nothing but a single phrase that leaves chills in her.

Warning: This is not your regular love story. This is a collection of explicitly sinful acts. Confession, forbidden deeds, Raw, vivid.

DON’T READ IN PUBLIC.

Unless… you enjoy the risk of being caught.

It isn’t just a book. It’s an experience that will make your body burn.

Every story in this book is fast, wild, and full of heat. Bold women take what they want. Dominant men fight their urges. Every touch, every look, every whispered word will make you crave more.

As you read, your heart will race. Your body will react before your mind can catch up. You’ll gasp, shiver, and ache for pleasure. Each story is written to make you move your hand as you read, to feel every word.

We have it all—MF, MM, FF, MFM, FFM, MMMF, and everything in between. Every fantasy you can imagine. Every kind of desire. Every risky mix of heat.

The thrill of being caught. The rush of secret wants. The pull of power and lust. It’s all here. You’ll imagine being there, feeling every touch, every kiss, every deep push.

No holding back. No rules. Just raw, hot desire. Your eyes read the words. Your hand follows your body’s needs. You’ll touch yourself, tremble, and feel the heat grow.

By the last page, you’ll be breathing fast, shaking, and wanting more. And the stories won’t leave your mind. They’ll stay with you, making you ache for the next word, the next touch, the next release.

This isn’t just reading. It’s indulgence. One hand holds the phone. The other? That’s up to you.

Are you ready to give in?

DISCLAIMER BEFORE YOU ENTER

Alpha Daddies who kneels to eat their slutty step daughter’s psy dwell here.

Furious stepmothers with feral wolves are rampant. Be careful! Your c*** are not safe from gagging and even pu*** lips beg to survive from them.

Bratty daughters are here too. Their job is to create seduce their parent’s pack enforcers or warriors who just came back from war. Lastly, unlimited sin, abomination, reverse harem, taboo and anything called LUST dwells here. Grab an extra pair of p***…or maybe a toy.

In this era of universal awakening, I've drawn the most tragic "BOSS" route.

For the sake of my fiancée Celine's guild, I signed an exclusive binding agreement. For four whole years, I was treated like an ATM for loot drops, and was mercilessly killed 2173 times.

When Celine led 137 elite members of her guild, armed with a permanent kill item, to stab me in the heart, preparing to dig out my core to pave the way for her new love, she thought she was about to usher in the supreme glory of being the first to kill me on the entire server.

But what she didn't know was that the hidden max-level reward for the BOSS route was "system administrator privileges".

The sword tip stopped at my chest, freezing time across the entire server. I looked at the greedy traitor before me, smiled, and pressed the "Level Reset" button.
"Sorry, this game is now in my hands."

Strip away god-tier equipment and wipe out max-level accounts. This time, I will bring down the reigning number one in the entire server, making him start from level 1 in the newbie village and personally pay the price for those two thousand bloody battles!

She was never the daughter anyone expected to be sent up that mountain.

For a hundred years, Ironhold has paid the Dragon King a strange yearly tribute, one daughter of the royal house, sent to serve at his court. Everyone assumed it would be Bryn's beautiful older sister. Instead, to save her, Bryn puts on her sister's cloak, packs her own forge tools, and rides into the mountain herself.

She expects a monster. She finds a king who has spent a century turning himself into one on purpose, guarding a burned wing of his castle that no one is allowed to enter, and a grief he's never let anyone near.

But the treaty that brought her to him was never goodwill. It was payment for something her own family has hidden for generations, and the truth, once it surfaces, could burn down everything they've built.

Say something about it . please enter 10-300 wods .

Victoria discovered that I hadn't submitted any supplemental medical expense claims for two weeks.
She assumed I had finally been disciplined and had given up what she called "the exploitative nature of the lower class."
Little did she know, my backpack held the signed divorce papers and my mother's death certificate.
As I turned to leave, I was still wearing the discounted trench coat she'd casually given me three years ago when we got married.
What she didn't know was that I, a deep-sea geology genius from MIT, willingly endured three years of her humiliation and ridiculous rules, just so my mother could stay in her conglomerate's private hospital to prolong her life.
Now, my mother has died because of unpaid bills , and even her ashes are carried by me in a cheap canvas bag.
Now that my loved one is dead, there's no need for me to continue being her obstructive dog on Wall Street. The lives she owed with those approval forms, I will settle with the collapse of her entire conglomerate empire.

On our wedding day, she vanished wearing the gown I had bought for her.
I didn’t chase her. Instead, I went back to the operating table.
For three years, I had paid off her debts and filled the holes she left behind—enough for her to live a second life. My heart couldn't take it anymore; I had a stent implanted, though she never knew.
Three days later, I died in the hospital corridor. My ECG flatlined.
She didn’t know. She was still at a cocktail party in another city, clinking glasses with someone else.
A month later, she came back, kneeling before my tombstone in tears.
But it was all too late.

In this apocalyptic world of extreme heat, I fight for water in the underground black market, and I risk my life to hoard supplies.
My internet-famous roommate enjoyed my efforts while hiding in the air-conditioned room, panting softly in front of three fill lights: "We need to slow down and reconcile with nature."
Later, she stole my supplies and sold them to drug lords, causing me to be roasted alive on the riverbed.
After being reborn, I turned and left.
"Don't you like a slow-paced life? Stay here and enjoy it."
The end times have only just begun.

Betrayed by my wife on the eve of the apocalypse, they stole the shelter keys and locked me in the heart of the zombie outbreak to die.
I felt no anger.
Three minutes to blast open the blast door, ten minutes to drain the billions from that despicable couple's overseas accounts,
and then I'd buy machine guns and artillery from the black market! The couple speeding down the highway had no idea that the "top-secret key" they were protecting was actually a bomb designed to detonate the defense system.
The real wasteland survival game had only just begun.

For three whole years, as the "partner" of the bourgeois empress Victoria, I remained the most docile shadow of her business empire. Everyone thought I was a beautifully kept ornament, but only I knew that beneath this glittering facade, every shadow was a chaotic situation I had quelled with my own blood and flesh. It wasn't
until she used her daughter's final resting place as leverage to appease her lover that I realized that marriage was nothing more than a deceptive hunt.
Now, I'm going to recoup the costs.

For half a box of rations, my former comrade put a bullet in my back. As I gasped my last, the world reset—three days before the apocalypse. I didn't go after him for revenge. I floored the accelerator, racing toward the Texas borderlands where my grandfather—a Vietnam veteran—had spent forty years hoarding "junk" that everyone mocked. When the heat turned the earth into a furnace and Drake’s war-party smashed into the fence, they were met with a wall of diesel fire. My grandfather had spent three years digging a secret tunnel that bypassed the perimeter, and half a ton of fertilizer sent their entire encampment into the sky. They laughed at his junk pile. I laughed at their graves.

They kept me shackled before the Gates of the Abyss, force-feeding me toxic sludge and draining my final drop of blood, all to maintain their hypocritical "order." They called me the "Ultimate Anchor," unaware that the moment a watchdog decides it’s done playing the dog, the beast in the cage finally wakes up. From the very second I seized the laws of physics, this entire headquarters of the Defense Bureau became my private mausoleum. Your high-and-mighty Director? He’s currently kneeling in my cycle, begging for the sweet release of death. As for that Void Rift that makes the world tremble? Sorry, I just ate it for dinner.

The day manager Gregg shoved me into the freight elevator shaft, the nuclear winter outside had only just begun. As he slammed the gate shut, he said, "No one will find you dead down there; the insurance payout is enough to cover the shortfall." I died in the darkness at thirty degrees below zero. Then, I woke up. I was back on the afternoon he threw the contract in my face. This time, I didn't sign. I shoved the contract into the paper shredder, snatched the brass key ring from Supervisor Miller, locked every exit of the warehouse, and re-routed the entire building's heating system into my own command bunker. As Gregg licked ice off the frozen floor on the security monitor, I was sitting in the guard room, heating up a can of pork. Outside, the first snowflake fell. And this time, the ones who would be freezing to death were them.

"I was bonded with an alien system that issued nothing but 'benevolence' missions.
Supply food to violent thugs, shelter the mutants, embrace the Zombie King, and share our planetary defense technology with the entire world.
It claimed that as long as we were merciful, the civilization could survive.
I nodded, then promptly tweaked the task annotations.
I laced the food with neuro-suppressants, turned the shelter into a bio-sample bank, and activated kinetic overload when I 'embraced' the monster king.
Sharing the tech? Sure—though every defensive line I shared came with a backdoor that I could trigger remotely.
When the system eventually tried to purge me, Professor Sarah retaliated by locking it inside the national supercomputer.
I rewrote its underlying code, replacing 'mercy' with 'absolute order.'
Earth remains a post-apocalyptic wasteland, but the global satellite network is entirely in my hands.
The system’s most crushing defeat wasn't being destroyed; it was staying alive, only to become my tool."

The world thought I was a broken man after rotting in the Abyss for five years. Even Moretti, the wealthiest mogul in Cold Harbor, dared to point a finger at my nose and demand I kneel.
He razed my estate, seized my daughter, and humiliated my past on a city-wide livestream.
What he didn’t know was that the moment his infrared scanners locked onto me, I had already initiated the sequence for a dormant orbital satellite that had been sleeping above us for five years.
When the skyscraper turns to ash, the man kneeling before me won’t be that arrogant tycoon—only a trembling corpse.
After all, in this city, I don’t believe in reason. I only believe in retribution.

The day my daughter was declared brain dead, my billionaire wife was busy making soup for her first love, who was suffering from heart failure.
To fund a heart transplant for her first love , she made a phone call and injected our biological daughter with a large dose of nerve-blocking agents, taking her life .
The night before the burial, I begged her like a dog to come and see our daughter off one last time, but she impatiently scolded me on the phone: "Don't bother me with dead people all the time; the dead can't be brought back to life."
Later, on our sixth wedding anniversary, in front of all the wealthy and powerful in New York, she offered me a top-quality frozen fertilized egg as compensation, promising to give me a "new child."
However, when she opened the high-end gift box I gave her with a smile—
there was no so-called "new life" inside, only a completely drained bankruptcy liquidation document for a conglomerate, a waste receipt for the fertilized egg that had been flushed down the drain, and a high-definition video of her first love laughing at her in a club, saying she was "so easy to fool."

I was reborn. My younger brother stole the woman who had lost her leg and was blind, thinking he had seized the throne of the apocalypse.
He didn't know that her power in her past life stemmed from the pendant on my chest—which contained a fountain of life.
This time, I'm not a savior. I'm handing the spring over to the nation.
The Pentagon has given me a new designation: National Assets.
While the younger brother was being beaten up by his neighbor for a half-empty can of cola, the National Guard's superhumans had already begun clearing out the infected.
He called, his voice hoarse: "Her superpower is only enough to chill a glass of cola... You tricked me?"
I hung up the phone and went into the lab.
"What's the extraction rate of the spiritual spring water today?"

An epic cold snap struck, causing temperatures to plummet to minus eighty degrees Celsius.
My fiancée and best friend occupied my hillside villa, laughing hysterically as they watched a video of me nearly freezing to death.
In their eyes, once I turned into a solid block of ice, they could rightfully inherit my vast fortune and live in this warm, doomsday Noah's Ark.
But what they didn't know was that the video was n't real at all .
I stood in the temperature-controlled bunker twenty meters below them and cut off their main power.
The hunt was about to begin.

I was cursed, trapped in a "Trial of Sincerity"—I could only regain my freedom if she spoke the words "I love you" from the bottom of her heart.
For five years, I’ve taken bullets for her, gone to prison for her, and stood on the brink of death four times. She would only call me "my best friend" or say "I need you," but she never uttered those three words.
Four times, she abandoned me as I lay dying, rushing instead to the side of another man.
The fifth time, with a bullet in my abdomen and my insides exposed, I lay on the operating table. She finally wept, screaming "I love you"—once, twice... twelve times in total.
Too bad. After waking up from that fourth brush with death, I had already signed a Do-Not-Resuscitate (DNR) order.
This time, my heart has stopped beating. Not because of my wounds, but because I’ve made my choice: I won't let her save me.

My fiancée and best friend, whom I risked my life to protect, sold me to the brutal "Blood Blade Gang . "
They laughed as they watched me being kicked into a pool of radioactive waste like a dog, waiting for me to turn into a pile of bones.
But they didn't know that the deadly radiation not only failed to melt me, but also forcibly ruptured my genetic lock, awakening the [Nuclear Fury].
I rode back to the old camp in her heavily armored vehicle.
Those two scoundrels were still arrogantly bullying me: "I have the Blood Blade Gang backing me! The big shots are coming soon, you're dead!"
I sneered and slapped them away.
Idiots, look back! Your so-called powerful backer is kneeling in the vehicle, lighting my cigarette.

They all thought I was just a rogue soldier who had crawled back from the border, covered in gunpowder and looking for revenge for my family's old debts.
Everyone was guessing which building I would blow up next. Julian, as I expected, panicked.
He recalled all his elite personnel to the Vientiane Building, activated top-level security, practically turning the entire office building into an impenetrable fortress, and sealed off assets globally to prevent my "illegal theft."
But he made a mistake.
When he personally pressed the reset lock, attempting to regain control of the system through manual verification, he didn't hear the prompt of command execution, but rather the hydraulic hum emanating from the building's load-bearing walls—it was the "self-destruct program" he had personally signed, running as scheduled under the guise of my privileges.

In my previous life, I was the government-appointed hero of the apocalypse, dying on the frozen plains after the spotlight dimmed, feeding their glorious honor with my very life.
In this life, I tore up the script and rejected that performance they called "saving the world." When the so-called "hero" stands on the command deck once again, I am deep in the dark underground, clutching a scoreboard with my frostbitten hands—
After all, heroes are offerings reserved for history books; I, however, only want to ensure that this group of abandoned souls can survive through tonight.

After ten years of being a "consumable," I performed my final maintenance on the very day Vivian handed my life's work over to someone else. I didn’t argue or resist; I just signed the paperwork with a smile. When the Thorne Tower began to collapse floor by floor due to my final permission error, she finally realized that all the brilliance she boasted of was nothing more than the residual warmth I had fed her. Now, she kneels in the ruins, begging me to turn back time. I only find her voice… annoying.

I thought I was the luckiest person in the apocalypse.
My brother, a former special forces soldier, brought me supplies so I wouldn't have to face the horrors above ground.
My girlfriend comforted me over the radio, saying she'd cry in my arms once we could finally get out.
I lived underground for three years, grateful like a domesticated dog.
Until that day, when I pushed open the door, smelled fresh grass, and saw the swimming pool in the sunlight—that's when I understood that the so-called apocalypse was never outside, but behind the door they had locked me in.

We’ve been married for five years. Then, she got pregnant with someone else's child.
In front of everyone, she said: "Ethan doesn't want this baby. You've always wanted one, right? Fine, take it and raise it."
In that moment, I finally understood: she wasn’t incapable of loving someone—she simply never saw me as a human being.
I took off my wedding ring, left it on the tray, and bought a one-way ticket to the North. My family said I wouldn't survive in the frozen North; she said that without her, I was nothing.
Three years later, she tracked me down using the GPS hidden inside that ring. She pushed open the door to my attic room, finding only a note I’d left: "Don't look for me. We're square."

To fulfill a dying comrade's final request, I spent twelve years living in the shadows to protect his daughter. I took bullets for her, laundered her black-market assets, and eventually handed over my entire stake in the security empire. In her eyes, I am her father’s murderer; in mine, she is a mission—the only flicker of light left in my life. Until that fateful banquet, when she personally shoved me into the sights of mercenaries. Watching my blood bloom across her dress, she hooked her arm around my nemesis and ordered coldly, "Clean it up." In that moment, twelve years of devotion collapsed, and a heart that beat only for her finally learned to freeze. This time, I’ve decided to personally destroy the monster I raised.

The global freeze descended, and the apocalypse arrived right on cue. I seized all the critical supplies and evacuated first, leaving "the perfect base" behind for the two traitors who backstabbed me. They thought it was heaven, but little did they know that the entire fortress was a precision trap constructed of deception, scarcity, and despair. As the outdoor temperature plummeted to minus eighty degrees, I sat by the window, roasting venison and watching them through high-definition infrared, coldly observing as they lost their humanity in the desperate fight for a single bowl of sawdust.

In my past life, I personally dug up two alien meteorites, handing the blue one that granted "Frost Mastery" to my childhood friend, Mike. He repaid me by sealing me inside an ice wall, cursing me to "die like a piece of trash" in the minus 70-degree blizzard.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the initial blast site.
This time, I didn't even spare him a glance; I stuffed both meteorites into my pocket.
I transformed a missile silo into a doomsday bunker, brought my parents inside, and stockpiled ten years' worth of supplies.
When Mike arrived with a gang of thugs to smash my door down, I stood in the warm command center, watching half his face rot with frostbite on the monitor.
I didn't open the door.
This time, I am sending back the despair of my past life tenfold.

In the extreme cold of the apocalypse, I was bound to the Seraphim's Flame, gaining access to the tycoon's bunker.
My good brother Luke was so jealous he went mad and killed me with a single blow.
Reborn, Luke stole the "Seraphic Flame" and, like throwing away trash, kicked another dark, ugly stone to my feet.
He didn't know—Redstone was a blood-sucking evil, while Blackstone was the true god-level talent.
When the deathly gale of minus seventy degrees swept across the world, I activated the [Dimensional Fortress] of infinite space.
Tons of munitions, mountains of supplies, overwhelming heavy firepower…
I will stand on the frozen wasteland and watch that bastard, step by step, become the human battery I need.

In my previous life, I gave away all my resources to save people, but my godfather broke my legs and fed me to the zombies.
Reincarnated 30 days before the apocalypse, I borrowed millions to build a nuclear-proof bunker and bought twelve retired, violent, and rabid dogs.
Extreme cold descends. With nowhere else to turn and in a desperate attempt to survive, the priest forces a space-age ability user to pinpoint the coordinates of the area inside the bunker with the "highest concentration of heat," and then forcibly teleports to steal the bunker.
He landed laughing wildly, feeling the scorching heat wave hitting him, thinking he had taken over my generator room and greenhouse.
I sneered and remained silent through the bulletproof glass.
This idiot has no idea that the hottest place in my shelter... has never been the generator.

In my previous life, an endless polar night and frost-laden corpse tide swept through the entire city.
My wife and I took in her mother and younger brother out of familial obligation,
But when monsters attacked, they locked us outside the shelter and we were torn apart alive.
Opening my eyes again, there are only seven days until doomsday arrives.
My wife and I have reached a consensus—to hell with blood being thicker than water!
This time, we will build an icy tomb for them with our own hands at the highest point of this city.

In my past life, I was cheated on.
My wife is having an affair with my fitness coach, and even our five-year-old daughter isn't my child.
I filed for divorce, and she left with nothing. I thought my life couldn't get any worse—but then the apocalypse came, and I was bitten to death by zombies.
In her last moments before she died, I saw her family of three nestled in her lover's secluded mountain cabin, with plenty of food and drink, passing away peacefully in their old age.
God gave me a second chance.
Back on the day we signed the divorce papers, I smiled and said to my ex-wife, "You can have the villa, but I want Julian's dilapidated cabin."

A horde of 100,000 mutated beasts besieged the city, and a ten-meter-tall abyssal wolf pressed its claws against my throat.
My enemy, riding on the wolf's back, laughed maniacally, threw down the chains, and ordered me to kneel and surrender immediately.
The fortress garrison closed their eyes in despair. But looking at that gaping maw so close to my face, I let out a long sigh of relief, even laughing aloud.
"What are you laughing at, facing certain death?!" she shrieked.
"I'm laughing at your pathetic stupidity." I gently crushed a poison capsule in my sleeve. "You really think I threw down all my weapons and walked out of the city gates to face this 100,000-strong army to surrender?"
"That's because if the distance exceeds three meters, my genetic virus can't be precisely injected into this beast's lungs."

They call me a parasite.
An outdated piece of trash. A fraudster hiding in the clouds, sucking the blood of the empire.
They spat at my shadow, threw stones at my door, and made my daughter bind my wrists with spirit-binding silver.
Then they asked me if I had any last words.
I said, "The void is coming."
They burst into laughter.
Now, the sky has cracked open.
Those who once cursed my name are now kneeling in the ashes, begging me for help.
I sat on a cold rock on Greystone Ridge, gazing at the distant firelight.
I could have stopped it all.
But I choose—
To stand idly by.

My teammates viewed me as a mobile food supply and planned to butcher me before they ran out of rations.
They thought that as long as I died, they would win this "survival game."
However, they would never know that what I brought back from the depths of the ruins wasn't fear, but the highest-level administrative privileges of the entire logistics system. While they killed each other for a bag of expired biscuits, I had already locked the exit to this hell. Sorry, but in this settling of accounts, you aren't even qualified to be treated as bargaining chips.

I’ve been guarding a door in the Nevada underground for a hundred years. The system marks this place "Abandoned," and the official records claim I don't exist.
When the investigation team arrived, the leader was my old signal corpsman. He pretended not to know me and ordered his guards to drag me out like a piece of dead weight.
They shoved a young lad from the Rex family into the breach as bait, and while everyone screamed in horror, no one dared to move.
So, I jumped down to fish the kid out, using a bottle of beer to force back the tentacles reaching from the dark.
Then, I pulled on that dusty old uniform and pressed my palm against the master console—all thirty-two security protocols verified instantly.
The lead technician collapsed in shock: "This clearance level is restricted to the Chief Architect only."
He was right. I am.
The thing I’ve kept locked behind that door for a century woke up, whispering: "What do you want?"
I said: "Dinner."

I spent three years as a "useless son-in-law," humiliated in public by my wife, all to repay a debt of life-saving gratitude.
That night, she handed me a cup of poisoned wine, smiling as she told me to "disappear from this world."
But she didn't know that the wine served to terminate our contract of protection—and unchained my shackles completely.
When the fighter jets of the Northern Command cast their shadows over the entire estate, she finally knelt in the mud, crying out for "Adrian."
But this time, I will not look back.

In my previous life, my wife was addicted to black market gambling on football, which caused us to lose everything.
To make matters worse, a zombie horde then broke out.
We had no shelter and were quickly torn apart by a horde of frenzied zombies.
After being reborn, she planned to run off with all the money, then dump me and elope with her lover.
What she didn't know was that I had awakened the ability to read minds and knew all her plans.