Novels by Little Bunny

A man who was blindfolded suddenly appeared in front of Yung, blocking his path."Do not attack him," the man ordered."But... why, Holy Father?" Yung asked, confused."I want to see something," the man replied calmly. "No elder is allowed to attack him!""Why are you getting involved, William?" Duncan asked, a deep frown on his face."Do you not possess shame? Allowing an elder to attack a child? Where is your honor and dignity as a Holy Father?""But he's a spy!" Duncan was shouting at this point."You have no proof of that. You only know about his torture and near-death, so how is that evidence of him being a spy sent to infiltrate our sect?""......" Duncan wanted to say something, but he had no retort."No elders are permitted to attack the boy." William's voice rang close to the ear of every elder, almost as if he were standing beside them.The words echoed through the hall, reaching every elder present."Holy Father, what about our disciples?" Shekini asked carefully. Her voice

Emeka's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets the moment the guards dragged Vandal past him.His face twisted with shock and raw hatred. "You are still alive! You look different... why is your hair white?"He took a frantic step forward, his voice rising into a near scream. "How did you survive the Mawrot Essence? I watched you scream and vomit blood as the poison melted your organs from the inside! How are you still breathing?!"Questions flew from his mouth like arrows. "Why are you here?!"Gasps and murmurs exploded across the hall like wildfire.Vandal's forehead veins bulged. Memories flooded back: the burning pain of the zombie poison, the repeated lashes of the bladed whip tearing into his back, and the laughter of his tormentors while he writhed in pain. His blood boiled.Shekini laughed sharply, her voice dripping with insults. "Clara, oh Clara... you really brought a spy into our sect? How fitting for someone who keeps collecting strays like a beggar woman."Yung sneered l

Vandal had stepped onto the altar full of confidence. He was at stage-two resonance with abundant and powerful energy, strengthened by his dual cores. The berserker core inside him pulsed with violent strength. He believed that with just a bit of quiet time, he could break through to stage three whenever he wished.The cold surface immediately began absorbing strands of his resonance energy.Yet Nothing happened.The stone bell remained dull and colorless. No light wave appeared. Not even the faintest glow.Vandal frowned and pushed two more strands of resonance energy into the bell. Still nothing. The luminous meter stayed completely dark.Damn. What is this? He had inherited powerful Force Echo techniques and absorbed Alarik's resonance energy.Maybe it is because I have not broken through to stage three yet. He focused harder, preparing to force a breakthrough right there.By now, soft chuckles had already started spreading through the hall. Soon the laughter grew louder.A dark-sk

The group pressed deeper into the darkening forest. The canopy above grew thicker until only thin shafts of sunlight filtered through the leaves. Sabine stayed pressed close to Vandal, clinging tightly to his arm the entire way. Every few steps, she glanced nervously over her shoulder, her fingers tightening whenever a branch snapped in the distance.Clara walked a few paces ahead, her back straight and her gaze sharp, head tilting slightly at every unusual sound.After nearly thirty minutes, Clara stopped in front of a massive ancient oak. Its trunk was wider than three men standing side by side. Thick moss and hanging vines draped over the bark like a living curtain. To any ordinary traveler, it looked like nothing more than another tree in an endless sea of green.Clara placed her palm flat against a specific knot in the wood and whispered softly, her voice carrying a reverent tone.“Faith sees what the eyes cannot.”The bark shimmered. A vertical seam split open silently, revealin

“Excuse me?” Elder Bainard wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. Vandal’s faint smile did not waver. “I said I don’t want to join your clan,” he replied plainly, his voice carrying across the clearing like a quiet blade. “And I have no interest in your trial.” A ripple of shock passed through the Green Tempest youths. Fenwick’s face split into a vicious grin while the others exchanged eager glances, sensing blood in the water. Elder Bainard’s eyes narrowed, and his faint testing smile froze into something colder. Perfect. The boy’s refusal gave him the excuse he had been waiting for. That ridiculous bow was clearly a high-grade resonance weapon that no gutter rat could ever afford. It gleamed with suppressed power. The boy’s calm, quiet aura, despite his ragged clothes and white-streaked hair, screamed of a hidden fortune. No ordinary hobo walked around radiating such confidence after slaughtering a Wind Echo Leopard. He suspected the boy possessed valuable treasures. If his inner

Vandal pushed himself up from the cold stone floor of the vault. The triangular mark on his chest had faded into his skin, but a faint warmth still lingered there. The ancient book floated in his soul space, the first level of the Nephilim Fists of Destruction already settled into his bones.He needed to leave.The main entrance he had used before refused to open again. After searching the chamber he found a second passage that led into a deep, clear pool. He dove in without hesitation.The water was different from any he had tasted before. As he swam, a strange sensation ran across his scalp. When he finally broke the surface and climbed onto dry land, he ran a hand through his hair and froze.Every strand had turned milky white.The forest around him looked completely different. Lush green foliage. Warm humidity. The rich scent of blooming flowers and damp soil. It was spring.Distant screams and the roar of battle shattered the quiet.Vandal moved toward the sound on instinct. Throu

Shape Shifter or not, Klaus Whitlock was never just muscle.He was precision wrapped in flesh. A storm in waiting.A predator with patience—silent, coiled, eyes always watching.When he moved, it wasn’t instinct.It was execution.Victor stepped forward with the elegance of a serpent in silk. His crimson robe whispered against the air, drawn aside to unveil a torso lean and godlike, etched with gold tattoos that pulsed like living scripture—each one a dream, each line a voice of longing.His amber eyes glowed softly, like the last light before dusk—warm, inviting, and deeply, devastatingly deceptive.“Impressive,” Victor murmured, voice rich with quiet power. “I see why Morphos marked you.”Klaus didn’t respond. He simply growled low—a sound like thunder growling behind a mountain.Victor smiled.“But you lack what I’ve mastered,” he continued, arms extending, his aura swelling.“Control. You are chaos. Beautiful, dangerous chaos…But I am order.Dream.Destiny.”Then—Victor tapped th

Instead, his flesh began to turn grey—stone grey—from his feet upward. His eyes met hers. Isabella was already standing, her gaze no longer soft… but sharp. Cold. Inhuman. “I’m sorry, Klaus,” she said, voice calm, reverent. “But you were never meant to leave here alive.” He fell to the floor, gasping, paralyzed from the waist down. His legs were now marble, and the petrification was climbing. “You…” he whispered, heart breaking faster than his body. “Why…?” She stepped back, the illusion of the innocent, loving girl melting away. Her skin shimmered, eyes glowing gold with slits like serpents. “Do you know what my real name is?” she asked gently. He stared in horror. She smiled. “I am the avatar of Medusa—the Goddess of Eyes, Stone, and Betrayal. Your enemy from the start.” Klaus’s mind reeled. Isabella… wasn’t just under the control of someone. She was someone. Powerful. Ancient. “I killed Jack,” she said casually, circling him now. “Turned him to stone and c

He reached for his teleportation skill, the one that had saved him a hundred times before. He visualized the coordinates. The exit. The escape. Nothing. He was still standing in the same place. His heart sank. Victor let out a soft, patronizing chuckle. “Teleportation won’t save you, Klaus.” Klaus whirled, eyes wide. “What…?” Victor stepped forward, his form glowing faintly with the essence of dreams made flesh. “You're already within my Fantasy Domain,” he said, as if explaining a simple rule of etiquette. “From the moment your eyes met mine, you began to dream. That’s how it works with me. I’m the avatar of Morphos, god of dreams and fantasies.” Klaus blinked—and then he noticed something horrifying. He wasn’t resisting. He was following. Each step Victor took, Klaus found himself mirroring without will or intent. It was like his body had been hijacked—his movements reduced to a puppet's mimicry. Even his voice was gone. He opened his mouth. Nothing. Not a sound.

"This... is not over," he growled. “Die with me, Klaus Whitlock… my friend.” Klaus’s body tensed. Marco’s hand slammed against his chest. A red glow erupted from a disk embedded in his torso. Digital numbers appeared—10. 9. 8… A bomb. “No—!” Klaus lunged. Marco only laughed, his teeth stained red. “It ends here.” --- Everything slowed. Klaus’s eyes locked onto the timer. Seven seconds. His mind raced. Escape? Not enough time. Disable? Too risky. Contain? His eyes flashed with purpose. He summoned all remaining aura into his palm—dense, pressurized, burning purple with white streaks of electricity. He slammed it into Marco’s chest and teleported. They vanished. A microsecond later, they reappeared—on the edge of the harbor cliffs miles from the city. Klaus hurled Marco’s body off the cliff and threw up the strongest aura shield he could generate. The explosion rocked the coastline. A shockwave rippled across the water, sending birds flying and triggeri

Klaus stepped forward, his black-on-black silk suit undisturbed by the chaos erupting around him. His polished shoes echoed with each step on the marble floor, cutting clean through the rising murmurs of panic and disbelief. Executives shuffled uncomfortably in their chairs, exchanging side glances, their once smug faces now touched with unease. Behind him, Isabella stood still as stone, eyes glinting like forged steel beneath her sleek silver gown. Her presence was no longer ornamental. It was royal. Regal. Reclaimed. The woman they once whispered about, disrespected, was now a untouchable. Klaus swept his sharp gaze across the room—over the high-stakes players, the crime lords dressed in power, the former puppet-masters of Megabucks who had gorged on corruption under dim lights and heavy cigars. He raised his voice. Clear. Controlled. “This casino is mine now.” The weight of those words fell with a thud. Some straightened in their seats. Others flinched. But none dared spe

[“The Relic of the First Predator has unlocked prehistoric regression. Animal transformations may now be pushed beyond modern evolutionary limits. Sabertooth. Direwolf. Pterodactyl. Megalania. All accessible through intent and focus.”] A slow grin crept across his lips. It wasn’t the kind of smile one wore for joy. It was the grin of an apex predator who’d just remembered how to hunt. “Finally… a reason to go hunting again.” But even as that power settled into his bones, Klaus knew the real storm was just beginning. The masked assassin. That mechanical arm. That machine-like efficiency. That smell—sterile, unnatural, enhanced. Klaus’s mind returned to the rooftop. Jack. Frozen in terror. Turned to stone mid-scream. Whatever power did that wasn’t mortal. The divine energy still clung to Klaus’s senses like smoke. He never got Jack’s secrets. Never learned who he was working for. Now this assassin—so soon after. No coincidences. “They’re connected,” Klaus murmured. “Jac