Novels by Aster_Pheonix

Robert's facial expression turned sour as he was utterly displeased that Sarah was able to see right through his facade without much difficulty. She had always been sharp witted but he expected that her sense of reasoning would be clouded by the excitement of being given a chance to return back to t

At this moment, Robert was only concerned about forming a successful collaboration with Ace Enterprise more than paying attention to his kinship.“Thank you, Father. I'm glad you finally understood what I was talking about earlier. As you can see, there's no need for us elites to mingle with the low

Theodore hurriedly used the clues he had gathered and was able to realize that everything happening right now was Thomas’s idea. It occurred to him that Thomas must have made some sort of deal with Robert to allow Sarah to become an Anderson again in exchange for her helping the family establish a c

Meanwhile, Ryan was utterly disgusted by Sarah's remark and concluded that he was being arrogant considering her lowly status. As a result he was unable to refrain himself from lashing at her in a stern voice despite Robert's warnings. “You are just an ungrateful bitch, Sarah. This family has rules

“I don't know how you were able to pull it off but one thing is surely clear and that's the fact Miss. Evans must be really treating you well if you are able to afford such a lovely dress and luxury car.” Thomas commented in a flattering tone as he made the assumption that Sarah could only afford to

The party progressed without any more significant ruckus after Robert had stated his verdict. Everyone could only hold onto their thoughts and respective dissatisfaction about Sarah and William’s presence since nobody wanted to take any chances of offending Robert. They could grumble and glare at S

The evening settled gently over the White family mansion, bringing with it a rare sense of calm. The chaos of the past days had finally receded, leaving behind a quiet that felt earned rather than fragile. Warm lights glowed through tall windows, and the dining room—grand as ever—felt softer tonight, less like a place of strategy and power and more like a space meant for family. Dinner had been prepared carefully, with dishes chosen to be light and comforting rather than extravagant. Eva sat at the table beside Chris, her posture relaxed, though his hand remained subtly close to hers, as if either of them might reach out at any moment without thinking. Across from them sat Elliot and Amanda. Amanda had been unusually quiet since they arrived, her usual easy chatter replaced by a barely contained energy that made her shift in her seat more than once. Eva noticed, of course. She always did. Amanda barely touched her food, glancing between Eva and Chris, then at Elliot, who looked com

The garden was quiet in the way only the White family grounds could be—manicured perfection softened by night air, lantern lights glowing low among hedges and rosebushes. Gravel crunched faintly beneath their steps as Elliot and Amanda walked side by side, the distant mansion behind them slowly fading into silence. Amanda had her arms folded loosely, her expression still bright with lingering emotion. She hadn’t quite come down from the joy of the moment—the surprise, the warmth, the sense that something good had finally taken root after so much chaos. Elliot glanced at her, studying her profile. “You seemed genuinely happy,” he said at last. “About Eva’s pregnancy.” Amanda smiled without hesitation. “Of course I was.” She slowed her steps, turning her head slightly to look at him. “Eva isn’t just my friend. She’s been my best friend since we were kids. I know every ugly chapter it took for her to get here. The losses, the fear, the times she almost gave up.” Her voice softened.

The door closed behind him, and for a brief moment, laughter lingered in the air—soft, disbelieving, almost fragile. Then the room settled again. Chris shifted slightly against the pillows, his expression sobering as he turned his attention to Ethan. “What about Mason?” The name carried no heat now. No fury. Just a need for finality. Ethan straightened. “Cara transported him to the Crimson Legion headquarters shortly after you arrived here. He’s been placed in their highest-security prison—isolated, monitored, and restrained.” “No loopholes?” Chris asked quietly. “None,” Ethan said firmly. “He’ll never be a problem again. Not to you. Not to Eva. Not to the White family.” Chris exhaled, a slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Something inside him loosened—not triumph, not satisfaction, but relief. “Good,” he said. He glanced around the room then—at Amanda hovering near Eva, at Elliot standing near the window, at Ethan waiting silently. “Please,” Chris sai

Chris slowly lifted his uninjured hand and cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear before it could fall. “Listen to me,” he said firmly, though his voice remained gentle. “Your kidnapping wasn’t your fault. It was mine.” Her lips parted in protest, but he continued. “I was reckless. I underestimated my enemies. I let my guard down—and you paid the price for it.” His jaw tightened. “That won’t happen again. I promise you. No harm, no danger will disrupt our lives like this anymore.” She searched his eyes, as if trying to see whether those words were merely comfort—or a vow carved in stone. “I believe you,” she said softly. At that moment, the door swung open again. “Well, well,” a familiar, amused voice drawled. “Looks like the hero finally rose from the dead.” Amanda strolled in with an exaggerated sigh, hands on her hips. “I was starting to think I’d need to attend your funeral just to confirm you weren’t actually immortal.” Chris huffed weakly. “Nice to see

A day later, Chris woke to silence. Not the eerie, suffocating silence of unconsciousness—but the gentle, familiar quiet of home. Soft sheets cradled his body. The faint scent of polished wood and clean linen lingered in the air. Sunlight filtered through half-drawn curtains, painting warm streaks of gold across the ceiling. For a few seconds, he simply stared upward, blinking slowly. …My room? The realization came with confusion rather than relief. His body felt heavy, as if gravity had doubled overnight. A dull ache pulsed through his ribs, his arm throbbed beneath layers of bandages, and every breath reminded him that he’d been pushed well past his limits. Still, compared to the last thing he remembered—blood, pain, Mason’s twisted grin—it was… peaceful. Too peaceful. His brows furrowed as fragmented memories surfaced. Eva’s scream. Mason’s grip. The burning fury that had drowned out everything else. Then darkness. How long was I out? As if summoned by the thou

The door opened, and Charles strode in. For a man who usually carried himself with composed authority, his unease was unmistakable. His eyes swept the room immediately, landing on Chris’s battered form before snapping to Eva. “Eva,” he said sharply, crossing the room in long strides. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head quickly. “I’m okay,” she said, then corrected herself. “Mostly. Chris—he—” “I know,” Charles said, his voice softening as he placed his hands on her shoulders, inspecting her carefully. Relief flickered across his face when he found no serious injuries. “Thank God.” Her throat tightened. “He saved me. He got there just in time.” Charles closed his eyes briefly, exhaling. When he looked back at Chris, something dark and dangerous passed through his gaze. Gratitude, yes—but also fury at the cost. The doctor cleared his throat. “Mr. White, I’m going to need the room cleared. Master Chris requires complete rest.” Eva stiffened immediately. “I’ll stay.” Charles hesit

The underground cargo station had fallen into a silence that felt almost unbearable. It was not the silence of safety or rest. It was the silence of something slowly collapsing from the inside. Weak emergency lamps flickered inconsistently along the cracked walls, their unstable light washing the underground chamber in dull shades of orange and gray. Cold wind drifted through the shattered sections of the ceiling far above, carrying ash, dust, and the distant smell of burned flesh deeper into the station. The ruined shelter looked less like a temporary refuge and more like a grave waiting to close. Broken cargo containers lay scattered across damaged train tracks. Rusted support beams groaned occasionally under the weight of fractured concrete overhead. Bloodstains stretched across the floor where wounded hunters had been dragged earlier, and exhausted survivors sat scattered throughout the station in small groups, their faces pale beneath the dim light. The poison was getting w

Slowly, Miles tightened his grip around the hunter’s fist. For a brief moment, the terminal fell silent. Then Miles finally spoke. “So that’s all I needed to confirm.” The hunter frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about?” Miles’ grip tightened further. A sharp cracking sound echoed through the terminal as the bones in the hunter’s hand shattered under the pressure. The hunter’s face twisted violently in pain and disbelief. “What are you doing?!” Miles stepped forward calmly. There was no anger in his expression. No excitement. Only complete control. “I was never testing your strength,” he said quietly. “I was confirming the source of your energy.” The hunter tried pulling away, but Miles held him in place effortlessly. Panic finally appeared in the hunter’s eyes. “That’s impossible,” he muttered. “You were weaker than me a moment ago.” Miles looked at him silently before answering. “I was never fighting seriously.” A faint shift passed through the surroundin

For a brief moment, both men remained locked in place. Then the hunter smirked. “You’re too slow now,” he said, his voice carrying renewed confidence. With a brutal twist of force, he threw Miles backward. Miles rotated in midair before landing in a low crouch several meters away. His boots scraped violently across the damaged floor as he stabilized himself, leaving long marks through the concrete. The hunter gave him no time to recover. He lunged forward with explosive speed that distorted the space between them. It did not look like teleportation, but the acceleration was so sudden that the distance separating them collapsed unnaturally. A heavy fist slammed directly into Miles’ guard. The impact exploded through the terminal like a small detonation and sent Miles skidding backward again. His boots dug deep into the fractured floor while he absorbed the force through his arms. Before he could fully regain balance, another attack came from a different angle. Then another.

The red capsule did not dissolve like normal medicine. It cracked. Then it burned. A thin red mist escaped from the A rank hunter’s mouth as he swallowed it, and for a moment the entire terminal felt like it had been dipped into something unnatural. The air thickened, not with mana pressure alone, but with a presence that did not belong in the natural flow of energy. Miles noticed it immediately his eyes sharpened. That was not normal mana. It felt wrong and corrupted. Not corrupted in the usual sense of unstable technique or overdrawn internal energy, but something deeper, something that carried a familiar instinct For a brief second, nothing happened. Then the hunter’s entire body convulsed violently. A disturbing cracking sound echoed from inside his body as his spine arched backward unnaturally. His muscles tightened so hard that the veins across his neck and arms began darkening rapidly, spreading beneath his skin like black ink flooding through his bloodstream. He slo

Each impact sent shockwaves through the terminal as both fighters refused to yield space. Miles took a direct hit to the ribs that cracked bone and forced blood from his mouth, but he immediately returned with a dagger strike that forced the hunter to block with a reinforced forearm, carving a deeper wound into his defense layer. Every injury he sustained was instantly healed and this infuriated the hunter. The A rank hunter finally grabbed Miles by the shoulder and threw him across the terminal. Miles skidded violently, leaving a trail of broken debris behind him before stopping near a collapsed rail structure. For a brief moment, he stayed still. Breathing heavier now. Blood dripping steadily. The A rank hunter walked forward slowly. “You are strong and that healing ability of yours is truly very annoying,” he admitted. “But you are still human so let's see if you will heal once I chop your head off.” He raised his sword slightly. Mana began compressing around his body

The rifleman man fired but was off target as he tried to dodge the slab flying towards his direction. But Miles was already inside the rifleman’s control distance. Too close for ranged dominance. Too fast for recovery. The rifleman fired one last time at point blank range. Miles tilted his body slightly. The bullet tore through his shoulder instead of his center mass but his movement did not break. His hand caught the rifleman’s wrist mid recoil and twisted it. The sounds of Bone cracking under pressure could be heard. The rifle dropped on the floor as the hunter staggered in pain. The rifleman attempted to switch to close range backup, reaching for a side blade while stepping backward, but Miles closed the gap in a single burst of acceleration that crushed the remaining distance between them. Miles’ dagger was already moving. His dagger slammed into the rifleman’s thigh and pinned the leg to the ground. A sharp scream cut through the terminal. Miles pulled the blade free