2025-09-12 19:53:44The Sterling Industries tower pierced the night sky like a crystalline spear, its surface alive with swirling magical energies that painted rainbow patterns across the glass. New Year's Eve had transformed the building's top floors into a glittering wonderland of supernatural excess. Floating chandeliers dripped liquid starlight while enchanted ice sculptures moved and danced of their own accord.
Marcus stepped through the main entrance, his simple black jeans and plain white shirt a stark contrast to the sea of designer gowns and tailored tuxedos surrounding him. Lamborghinis with phoenix-fire exhaust and Bentleys that hovered six inches off the ground lined the circular drive, their supernatural modifications gleaming under the mystical streetlights. The security guards—two hulking werewolves in expensive suits—barely glanced at him as he walked past. These days, even the most powerful supernatural beings often masqueraded as ordinary humans. Good, Marcus thought, surveying the opulent ballroom. The less attention, the better. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten since leaving the hidden realm. The buffet table stretched along the far wall like an altar to culinary excess—lobster tails the size of small dragons, caviar that sparkled with actual diamonds, and fruits that glowed with inner light. Marcus loaded his plate without ceremony, grabbed two crystal flutes of champagne that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent, and found a quiet corner to eat. The food was exceptional, though he barely tasted it. "Look at that guy," a woman in a silver gown whispered loudly enough for half the room to hear. "Did he just walk in off the street?" Her companion, a man with obviously enhanced supernatural features, snickered. "Probably some has-been trying to relive his glory days. Pathetic." "I heard he's been wandering around the supernatural district like some kind of drifter," added another voice. "Someone should call security before he steals the silverware." Marcus continued eating, unbothered by their commentary. "Seriously, who let this nobody crash our celebration?" A young woman with vampire fangs clicked her tongue in disgust. "He looks like he bought his clothes at a thrift store." If only they knew, Marcus mused, taking another sip of champagne. Though I suppose even gods can shop for bargains. The whispers grew louder, more vicious. "Is that ketchup on his shirt? At a Sterling Industries gala?" "I bet he doesn't even have supernatural blood. Probably just some delusional human." "Someone should throw him out before he embarrasses himself further." Thomas Sterling materialized through the crowd like a predator scenting weakness. The head of Sterling family security stood six-foot-four with the build of someone who settled disputes with violence. His supernatural aura crackled with barely contained aggression. "Excuse me," Thomas's voice cut through the party chatter like a blade. "Do you have an invitation to this event?" Marcus looked up from his plate, chewing thoughtfully. "No." The crowd around them went silent, sensing drama. Thomas's jaw tightened. "Then I'm afraid you'll need to leave. This is a private function." "I'm not invited," Marcus said calmly, setting down his champagne. "I'm Diana's fiancé. I came because of our family contract." The silence stretched for exactly three seconds before the laughter erupted. "Did he just say fiancé?" someone gasped between fits of giggling. "Diana Sterling's fiancé? Oh my god, this is rich!" "Lady, you hear that? This street rat thinks he's engaged to the most powerful woman in supernatural Manhattan!" Thomas's face flushed red with anger and embarrassment. "You delusional piece of trash! Diana Sterling is the CEO of Sterling Industries. She's got more class in her pinky finger than you've got in your entire worthless existence!" More laughter rippled through the gathering crowd. "This is the best entertainment we've had all night!" a woman shrieked. "He actually believes it!" "Someone get this on video. Diana's going to die laughing when she sees this fool." "What's next? Is he going to claim he's the lost prince of some fairy kingdom?" Marcus stood slowly, his movements fluid and controlled. "Take me to my fiancée." The laughter grew even louder. "Take him to Diana!" someone shouted mockingly. "Oh please, someone get Diana down here to meet her 'beloved'!" "I'm sure she's been waiting her whole life for Prince Charming here!" Thomas's supernatural energy flared, his eyes glowing with rage. "You worthless nobody! You think you can waltz in here and mock the Sterling family?" Without warning, Thomas threw a punch enhanced with supernatural force that could have shattered concrete. The air itself seemed to crack from the impact. Marcus caught the fist in his palm without even shifting his weight. Thomas's eyes went wide as his enhanced strength met an immovable wall. He pulled back, stumbling, his face pale with shock. That power, Marcus thought as another memory fragment pierced his consciousness. Standing before legions of supernatural warriors, his voice booming across battlefield dimensions, reality itself bending to his will as he led the charge against cosmic threats. "Impossible," Thomas whispered. "Security!" someone screamed. "Get security!" Eight guards rushed in, their enchanted weapons glowing with deadly energy. Swords that could cut through dimensional barriers, staffs crackling with binding spells, nets woven with silver starlight. Marcus moved. What happened next defied comprehension. One moment the guards were charging with supernatural speed and magical weapons. The next, all eight were unconscious on the marble floor, their weapons scattered like toys. No one had seen him move. No one had seen the strikes. It was as if time itself had skipped. "What the hell..." Thomas backed away, his face white with terror. Marcus dusted off his hands dismissively. "Is that really the best Sterling security has to offer? I've seen children with more fight in them." The crowd stood frozen in absolute silence, their mockery replaced by raw fear. "Pathetic," Marcus continued, his voice carrying casual contempt. "No wonder supernatural crime runs rampant in this city if these weaklings are supposed to be protecting it." Who is this man? The thought echoed through every mind in the room. More security poured in from the corridors, alerted by the commotion. Dozens of guards with advanced magical weapons, their faces grim with purpose. Marcus sighed, cracking his knuckles. "More toys to break?" "ENOUGH!"
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
The Weight of Judgment
Judgment arrived without fire that was the first thing Diana noticed as the light on the horizon grew closer. There was no thunder, no tearing of the sky, no violence in its descent. The air did not burn. It did not scream. It simply made room as if the world itself understood it had no authority to resist.The light resolved into form slowly, deliberately. Three figures descended from the heavens, their feet never touching the ground until the very last moment. When they did, the earth did not crack. It stilled.Everything had stilled down and the wind had died. The distant cries of survivors fell silent. Even the faint hum of the sealed crucible beneath the ground seemed to withdraw, retreating into a careful quiet.Diana felt it in her bones as the Judgment was not here to fight.It was here to decide.Marcus shifted beside her, his posture instinctively defensive despite knowing how useless that instinct might be. His spear remained at his side, unraised. Not in surrender but in
The Name Beneath Stone
The sound came first it was not a roar or a voice, it was a pulse very slow, deep and, rhythmicrising from beneath the crucible like the heartbeat of something that had never learned how to die.Diana felt it travel up through her boots, into her bones, settling behind her ribs with an intimacy that made her breath hitch. The ground continued to split, massive stone plates grinding apart as ancient mechanisms groaned awake. Light bled through the widening fissure below, not bright but heavy, the color of old embers buried too long beneath ash.Marcus tightened his hold on her instinctively. “That’s not Judgment.”“No,” the priestess said, her voice barely audible over the grinding stone. “That predates it.”Xavier peered into the chasm, face pale. “Whatever it is, it’s been waiting a very long time.”The ravine had become a wound in the earth. Far below, a vast chamber revealed itself circular, tiered, its walls carved with symbols older than any language Diana recognized, yet somehow
Where Judgment Bleeds
They did not wait for dawn Marcus knew better than to give Judgment time to recalibrate. Enemies who observed instead of attacking were the most dangerous kind they learned, adjusted, perfected. Whatever restraint Judgment had shown in the courtyard would not last.By the time the last embers of night faded from the sky, they were already moving.The road Marcus chose was not marked on any map.It cut through scorched valleys and half-forgotten battlefields where the earth still remembered war. Broken weapons jutted from the ground like ribs. Old banners lay buried beneath ash and time. Diana felt it the moment they crossed the threshold—this land resonated with Marcus in a way that made her chest tighten.“This place remembers you,” she murmured.Marcus didn’t deny it. “Judgment was forged here. Before it was an order… it was a doctrine.”Xavier adjusted the strap of his shield. “You’re saying this is where they decided gods needed leashes.”“Yes,” Marcus said. “And where they learne
What Wakes Below
The sound came again not loud but deep, it was deep it didn’t travel through the air. It moved through stone, through bone, through memory. Marcus felt it in the old scars along his ribs, in the places where wars had once ended and never truly healed.Something beneath the Gate was awake Diana stood slowly, supported by Marcus’s arm. The warmth of their bond steadied her, but it didn’t erase the weakness running through her limbs. The seal had taken something permanent from her, and she could feel the absence like a hollow place behind her heart.The Temple of Equilibrium groaned as fractures spread across its ancient floor. Thin lines of light seeped up from below, not the clean gold of the Gate, but a darker glow amber mixed with shadow.“The foundation is shifting,” the priestess said, her voice tight. “This place was never meant to bear the strain of a human anchor.”Eryndor turned in a slow circle, eyes narrowed. “Then the gods were fools,” he said. “They built eternity on borrow
When Judgment Breaks
The crack was small at first barely visible, running like a hairline fracture through the marble floor beneath Marcus’s feet. But Marcus felt it the moment it formed. Judgment was not meant to bend. Not meant to hesitate. And yet something had shifted.Eryndor froze and just for a heartbeat.That was all Marcus needed he drew in a breath so deep it burned, pulling not only on his divine strength but on something older—rawer. The bond. The promise. The vow he had never spoken aloud but had lived by since the moment Diana stepped into his life.Light surged through the chains binding him not the cold gold of Judgment.Something warmer and fiercer.The chains screamed Eryndor’s eyes widened as fractures raced along the glowing restraints. “Impossible,” he breathed. “You cannot override divine decree.”Marcus lifted his head, eyes blazing. “Watch me.”With a roar that shook the temple walls, he tore free.The chains shattered into fragments of fading light, raining to the floor like broke
What the Weaver Cannot Touch
The gods summoned Marcus at dawn, there was no thunder, no spectacle. Just a pull—quiet, undeniable—tugging at the place inside him that had never truly been his own. He felt it while standing on the outskirts of Lornhaven, watching smoke rise from hearths as people relearned the shape of their lives.He did not turn immediately, and Diana noticed anyway.“You’re being called,” she said.Marcus nodded once. “They’re afraid.”“Of the Weaver?”“No,” he replied. “Of you.”She smiled faintly. “Good.”That earned a breath of laughter from him, short and tired. Then the smile faded. He cupped her face gently, thumbs brushing the smudges of ash still on her skin.“I won’t be long.”“You always say that.”“And I always come back.”She studied him closely. “Careful. Promises are dangerous things these days.”Marcus leaned his forehead against hers. “So are gods who fall in love.”The pull intensified.He stepped back reluctantly. “Don’t leave this place.”“I won’t,” she said. “But I won’t hide
You may also like
Invincible Billionaire Heir
Chanhlee81.1K viewsThe Almighty Dominance
Sunshine1.5M viewsTrillionaire Ex husband's Revenge
Jericho Chase89.4K viewsGod of War, Returned For His Wife
DoAj43278.6K viewsTHE FORGOTTEN SON-IN-LAW
Sugar boy1.1K viewsRise Of The Rejected Son-in-law
S. F. A253 viewsRETURN OF THE VENGEFUL GOD OF WAR
DINOSLY 586 viewsRise Of The Billionaire Son
Black Jewel8.3K views