Investing In My Lv.999 Devoted Wife Makes Me a Tyrant
Additional Tags : #Romance #Revenge #Cultivation #Antihero #Weaktostrong #Overpowered #MatureExplicitContent
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Allen Veton is trash. Everyone says so.
Level 7. F-rank. His own family threw him away and forced him to marry Seraphina Valemont, a former S-rank Hunter who's now paralyzed, mute, and completely helpless. Their wedding gift is a rotting shack in the slums.
No money. No power. No future.
On their first night, Seraphina cries. Allen wipes the tear away. And everything changes.
[Ding!]
[Wife Investment System activated.]
[Violet: Welcome, Host. Invest in your wife. Receive returns from 100x to 10,000x. Do you accept?]
Allen accepts. He has nothing to lose.
He covers her with a blanket. Copper appears. He feeds her. New skills unlock. He whispers that he'll never leave her. The system gives him power beyond anything he's ever known.
But Allen isn't stupid. His Intelligence sits at 1,247, a genius hiding in a weak body. And as the returns grow stronger, he notices something else buried deep in his blood.
[Ding!]
[Violet: Primordial Demonic Bloodline detected. Status: Dormant. Awakening requires maximum emotional investment.]
A bloodline that makes demons kneel. A power so ancient no one remembers its name.
Every coin Allen earns makes him richer. Every skill makes him deadlier. Every moment with his wife awakens the bloodline. And Seraphina herself is slowly healing. A finger moves. A hand reaches for him. Then one day, a voice speaks directly into his mind.
'...My Husband.'
She can talk to him. And she wants revenge.
[Ding!]
[Return: 10,000x. Skill unlocked: Aura of Fear.]
[Violet: Host, enemies are watching. Eliminate before they strike.]
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- Smart, Strategic, & No-Nonsense MC
- No Yuri/Yaoi
- NTR-Free (No Netorare)
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Read
Chapter: 46 | The Cinder QuarryThe south yard smelled of horse sweat, oiled leather, and hot dust. Allen spotted the party before anyone called his name. A broad man with a compact shield stood beside a dispatch wagon, checking the straps on his sword belt. A woman leaned on a long spear near the equipment rack. The last Hunter, younger than the other 2, had a bow across his back and was trying to tighten a glove with his teeth. The shieldman looked up first. "Allen?" "Yeah." "Garran." He tapped his own chest, then pointed without ceremony. "Brenna. Pell. Badge." Allen pulled his jacket open just enough to show the D-rank badge at his left chest. Garran's eyes dropped to it, then to Allen's empty hands. "Weapon?" "Stored." "Briefing?" Allen touched the inner pocket. "Good. I take front. Brenna works behind my left. Pell stays rear unless I move him. Don't cross his line when he has the bow up." "Got it." Brenna looked Allen over from boots to jacket and snorted. "Guild really sent us a D-rank in a nic
Last Updated: 2026-09-14
Chapter: 45 | A Gate Worth TakingThe first posting Allen dismissed paid well enough to waste several days.D-tier escort. Merchant road. Long hours, fat travel allowance, and not much chance of anything trying hard enough to matter.He left it on the board.2 Hunters beside him were having the opposite problem. They'd been arguing over the same escort since Allen walked into the hall, mostly about who deserved the travel allowance and who smelled bad enough to ride behind the wagon.Someone at a desk shouted for a missing signature. Boots scraped across stone. A woman near the entrance swore when a rolled map slipped under her arm.The Guild was awake.Allen kept reading.An E-tier extermination near the west farms. Easy money. Easier record.He hadn't pushed through the D-rank practical just to spend days watching wagon wheels or chasing pests from a field. He wanted work that could move his Level and leave the Guild something real to record.<
Last Updated: 2026-09-14
Chapter: 44 | Her Old EyesBy evening, Seraphina was back at the table. The wheelchair brakes were locked, her feet settled on the footrests. Her blue shawl rested over the shoulders of her pale-blue dress. Her right hand lay on the armrest. The left rested in her lap, quiet for now. Allen stopped beside his chair and looked at that hand. Her violet eyes lifted to his. "You've had time to rest," he said. "Still want to show me?" She nodded, slight but immediate. "All right." He shrugged out of his jacket. The small D-rank badge stayed pinned to the left chest as he hung the jacket on the wall peg. Then he stepped behind the right side of her wheelchair and bent close. His lips brushed the edge of her jaw just beneath her right ear. Seraphina tipped her head a little toward him before he straightened. Allen went to the hearth and picked up the scrap of cloth resting
Last Updated: 2026-09-13
Chapter: 43 | The Line That Should Not MoveAllen bent closer to the page. The amendment looked harmless enough. A line of old ink, a correction beside it, another date farther down the sequence. He'd seen uglier paperwork buying flour. Seraphina wasn't looking at the amendment anymore. Her violet eyes had shifted up the sheet. Allen followed her gaze, read the line above it, then another. Nothing. He looked at her. "Earlier?" She nodded. The records clerk clicked her tongue from across the table. "Hands off." Allen glanced down. His palm was still planted on bare wood. "I'm not touching your page." "You walked into my archive carrying charcoal. I don't trust your definition of touching." His right trouser pocket held the wrapped stub like evidence against him. "It's house charcoal. Very respectable." Seraphina's lips twi
Last Updated: 2026-09-12
Chapter: 42 | Her Name on the RecordAllen caught the edge of Seraphina's shawl before it reached the wheel. He tucked the blue cloth back over her lap and smoothed the pale blue skirt clear of the wheel, then pressed his thumb against the brake release. Nothing snagged. 'Fine.' Seraphina watched him from the chair with a patient look that somehow made the extra check feel accused. "Don't start." The corner of her mouth lifted. Allen leaned down and kissed the crown of her silver hair. Her right hand rose and closed around his wrist. A small squeeze. Warm, deliberate. "Ready?" She nodded. "Good. We're going." He released the brakes and pushed the wheelchair through the front door. Morning light lay across the uneven stone. Shop shutters stood open, carts rattled past, and the smell of hot bre
Last Updated: 2026-09-11
Chapter: 41 | F to DAllen's right fingers rested against the old F-rank badge in his trouser pocket when the clerk held out a hand. "Old badge." The senior evaluator stood on the other side of the counter with Allen's challenge record tucked under his arm. The D-rank badge from the evaluation sat beside the clerk's ledger, still just out of Allen's reach. Allen took the F-rank badge from his pocket, turned it over between his fingers, then placed it in the waiting palm. The clerk looked at him. "That's it?" "You want a farewell speech?" A Hunter leaning against the next section of counter coughed into his fist. The evaluator's mouth twitched. "Please don't encourage him." "I'm trying to finish before lunch," the clerk said. "The
Last Updated: 2026-09-11
Divine Evolution Of The Drifting Soul
Additional Tags: #Romance, #Evolution, #Antihero
Power in Aethelgard does not come from prayer.
It comes from Divine Marks, fragments of Authority carved into existence itself.
A single Mark can lift a mortal beyond the limits of flesh. With enough Marks, a being may evolve into a Saint, a Demigod, an Angel, or even a True God. But every Divine Mark has a sequence, a stage, and a burden.
Ilyan Morveth was killed for one.
His heart was pierced in an abandoned ruin. His killer left him there, waiting for the Divine Mark inside his body to appear.
It never did.
Before the Mark could manifest, an ancient soul drifted into the corpse.
Then the dead man opened his eyes.
Now Ilyan wakes with a closed wound over his heart, broken memories that do not belong to him, and a power he does not understand.
His first day alive only gets worse.
A Beast attacks him in the ruin.
A mysterious Divine Mark rises from its corpse.
And when Ilyan reaches Blackstone, the city gate already has his name written in the death ledger.
According to the records, Ilyan Morveth died before dawn.
To survive, he must play the role of a dead man whose life he barely remembers while hiding the impossible power awakening inside him.
Because Miracle is not luck.
It is not fate.
It is the quiet violation of reality itself.
A falling stone at the right moment.
A wound that should not heal.
A question asked one breath too late.
A coincidence too perfect to be coincidence.
But miracles attract attention.
Ilyan is not a chosen hero.
He is a survivor wearing a stolen life.
And if the world insists that Ilyan Morveth should have stayed dead, then his first miracle will be proving it wrong.
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Chapter: Probability TaxThe physician pressed two fingers beneath Ilyan's bruised rib. Pain answered before Ilyan did. "Did you use Hope after I told you not to?" "Once." The physician's mouth flattened. "Then Fortune did not save you from the bill." Across the observation room, a clerk dropped a brass seal disc. It struck the desk, spun off the edge, and rolled toward the floor grate. The clerk swore and reached too late. The disc touched one leg of Ilyan's chair, curved around it, and stopped face-up beside his boot. No one spoke. The clerk picked it up. "Convenient." Ilyan watched the brass vanish into his palm. Something inside his chest had shifted as the disc settle
Last Updated: 2026-08-07
Chapter: Mark of Fortune's SmileThe roof-access door opened inward. The narrow-faced watcher stood beneath the amber calibration lamp with a black handle in one hand. Metal ribs unfolded from it with three soft clicks. The ribs formed a cage of tensioned lines. Black filament hung between the ribs, almost invisible except where the lamp found rainwater on it. A narrow insulated clamp remained folded into the handle. Before he touched the lamp controls, the watcher checked the latch on the east maintenance ladder. He set its release rope within reach. He had prepared both the entrance and the escape. Rain blew through a fracture in the dome. The observatory smelled of wet brass, lamp oil, and hot machinery. The Gilded Chance Moth clung to the cracked brass dome above him, wings spread around the amber light. Go
Last Updated: 2026-08-06
Chapter: Chasing FortuneThe Moth did not fly toward safety. It flew toward more things that could go wrong. Rain pressed its gold-dark wings low over the canal. It cleared the broken awning by less than a handspan, scattered luminous scales through the lamplight, and crossed above a row of moored archive barges. A rusted latch on the nearest barge caught when it should have failed. The deckhand leaning against it stayed out of the canal. The hatch he had been holding slammed shut on another man's fingers. The scream followed the Moth into the rain. "Do not crowd it!" Sylva called from the House doorway. "It is frightened, not hunting." The narrow-faced watcher was already halfway across the canal arcade. He had not looked back once. Above the Archive
Last Updated: 2026-08-05
Chapter: Weighted DiceWHITE had ended their inspection. It had not stopped House 17-B from touching the creature. The night custodian had just sanded the final line of their exit receipt when a brass bead rose on the contractor board behind him. PRIVATE BRANCH — ACTIVE A needle beside Vent Bank 3 trembled, stopped, then crawled backward. Toward the House annex. The custodian stared at it. "There is no cycle due." Kaela turned toward the sealed corridor. Ilyan caught her sleeve before she took a second step. The movement pulled across his ribs hard enough to sharpen his breath. "We closed the hatch," he said. "We do not reopen it." The draw cylinder and written condition remained in institutional cust
Last Updated: 2026-08-04
Chapter: Gilded Chance MothThe gold beneath Ilyan's settlement stamp had veins. Under the covered arcade, Sylva angled the paper sleeve toward a canal lamp. One loose fleck caught the light. What had looked like gilt powder inside House 17-B now showed overlapping ridges, thin as the grain of a fingerprint. "Do not scrape it," Lissa said. "I wasn't going to." Kaela stood close enough to witness the transfer. Sylva opened a clean glass fold, tipped the sleeve once, and let two loose particles slide inside. The stamp remained untouched. She marked the fold with the time and slip reference. Through her lens, the flecks turned translucent at the edges. "Organic," Sylva said. "Probably wing scales. Insect, or something close enough that I need a record before I give it a name." Ilyan looked past her toward the
Last Updated: 2026-08-03
Chapter: The House of Fair OddsThe first man Ilyan watched lose at House 17-B was paid for it. A white bead stopped in the seventh channel of a brass wheel. The man's slip had named the sixth. The clerk stamped LOSS, counted four copper into his palm, and smiled as if the House had apologized. The next three losers received nothing. Lissa watched the paid man clutch his coins. "That can happen under the rules?" "Fair Return," the clerk said. "Every honest loss keeps a chance of coming back." Canal-green glass covered the walls behind him. It caught the lamps and broke them into quiet strips of light. Above the public floor, a brass rail displayed two moving totals: the Fair Return pool and the public settlement reserve. House 17-B did not look hidden. It looked licensed. Their entry
Last Updated: 2026-08-02
