“Blasphemy!!!” a man shouted.
“How dare you speak of the Overlord in such a tone?” Marco snorted, but Miranda's stance didn't waver. “I'll speak of him as I see fit. After all, he is just a man from Earth!” She snarled. “Finally!” A young man rose from the round table. His eyes scanned the room. He was tall, huge, and had a scar on his left cheek. His name was Memphis Zane. He used to be the commander of the military, and Miranda's betrothed until Demian's rise overshadowed him. Miranda chose Demian, and Memphis Zane lost in all. He never stopped plotting, hating, seeking for a chance, just one, to destroy Demian Kael. “Y'all have lost your balls. What do I expect from men who make decisions here only to go home and take orders from their wives?” “Sit down Memphis!” another man yelled at him, but he wasn't done. “It seems the daughter of our Supreme Leader has got a plan. I propose that we all hear her out. After all, it's a matter that concerns our future.” He looked at Miranda. Their gaze met and he lowered his head humbly. “What has gotten into you young folks?” A man with a grey hair spoke out. “You cannot kill the Overlord. Not anymore. Not after his ascension into immortality.” Another political elite stood up… he walked over to Miranda… “Hell, how do we even get out of the Realms?” “No one has ever left this Realm. No one knows what Earth is like, except of course the Overlord. Now I ask genuinely, even if we were to agree with this madness of yours, how do you propose to leave this Realm?” There was silence as all eyes fell on Miranda. She rolled her eyes and smiled. “I spent the past 3 years by the Overlord's side as his supporting hand. I didn't waste that time. I know exactly how the Overlord came and left this Realm and I know how to find him on Earth.” There was a short silence until an old man called Baltimore spoke up. “Leader??” He called on Miranda's father who had been silently observant. “What do you have to say?” “Should we risk everything and attempt to kill the Overlord? I must warn y'all, should we fail, we're done.” Baltimore spoke and sat back. All eyes fell on Marco Lambert, the Supreme Leader of the Realms. The final decision was in his hands. He came forward, eyes fixated on his daughter standing before him of almost the same height. “You've grown into a woman, Miranda.” He said it with a hint of pride in his eyes. “But I'm afraid I cannot carry out this mission.” Miranda sneered—“What?!” “You heard me! I cannot risk the entire race just to satisfy your revenge mission. You're not thinking for everyone, Miranda.” “You're being selfish. You just said you're pregnant. I guess the Overlord didn't inform you before he returned to his world.” Miranda shook her head slightly. “It's true. You feel betrayed, and you want to kill him to make yourself feel good. Sorry my child, but I cannot allow it. The military of this Realm will not invade Earth! That's final!” Nobody spoke up. The silence was awkward. Faces met, eyes avoided each other, but not a word escape the hall. Miranda clenched her fists, rage burning in her eyes. She stepped forward, disgust written all over her expression. “You're a disgrace to our existence!” She snapped at her father, and his jaw tightened. “Watch your mouth young lady!” He warned, but she snorted. “Fuck you!” SLAP!!! His slap was so hard that Miranda's head turned to the left. She sucked and tasted blood. The congregation went silent watching at the father and daughter moment. Miranda raised her face unrelentingly, but she didn't strike back. Tears gathered in her eyes, and Marco's equally. His breath caught in his chest. And suddenly, regret filled his eyes. “Oh my darling,” he tried to take her hand but Miranda stepped back. Her glare was terrifying. Her eyes contorted with rage beyond expression. For a second, the thought of cutting his throat open crossed her mind. But he was her father, no matter their differences. She stepped into his space, eyes fixated on his… “Whether you approve it or not, Father!” Her voice dripping with mockery. “I'm leaving this Realm. And I'm killing Demian Kael for all the sleepless nights and humiliation he caused me.” She made a sharp turn out of the premises. “Miranda?!” Marco called but she ignored. “Don't do something stupid, you hear me?! You can't kill the Overlord! Miranda?!” Memphis Zane stood up and burst into laughter. “Woooah. Finally the one who would lead us to victory against this single invader is a woman after all.” He said and began to laugh. “Memphis!” Marco Lambert called him back. He turned. “Do not blindly lead my daughter to her death. Because I'll come for you and everything you hold dearest!” He warned. Memphis smirked and rushed along to catch up with Miranda. “Hey slowly down.” He said to her on the long passage that led to the elevator. Miranda fastened her pace. “Hey. Hey.” He held her from behind and dragged her back. “Don't beat yourself about what happened inside. Your father fears this imposter who has stolen what belongs to our people.” He said. Miranda chuckled, trying to mask her pain. She looked at him plain and direct. “Look Memphis. I know what you're doing.” “But don't think with Demian gone you and I stand a chance. I'm carrying his baby, remember.” Memphis paused, hands on his waist, but no words. “Look. You and me, we can never be together. You're just not for me. I'm sorry,” she said. She turned to leave, but he held her back. “Wait…wait…wait.” “So, there's nothing I can say huh?” He asked. “We were gonna get married, you know. Before that son of a bitch showed up. And all of a sudden I was no longer good for you. And today, you just told the entire council that you're carrying his baby. Which means you let him fuck you.” He said. Miranda laughed silently. “It's not your business who I fuck,” she said simply, and he sniffed hard. “No, you're wrong. If I remember correctly, we dated for months. I gave you everything I had.” “But I just remembered. You never for once let me touch you. You were a virgin. And you wished to remain a virgin until we got married.” “But that didn't work so well. You let him fuck you the moment he arrived. What happened to the same old virtuous Miranda Pierce?” He taunted, dragging his gaze between her boobs. Miranda stepped into his space. “Like I said, Memphis, you're not good enough for me. And it's not your business who I fuck.” She turned to walk away, but he pulled her back and slammed her against the wall. Rage crept into his eyes. “You crazy bitch! Do you have any idea what I have sacrificed for you and your family? Huh?!” Miranda tried to free her neck from his grip, but he tightened his grip, draining her off her breath. He was too strong, but she reached for his weakness. Her knee reached between his legs and she struck his groin. He fell back, “ahhhhh!” A scream as he stuttered. His grip lost its effect on her, and Miranda held his hand and broke his thumb finger. He screamed. His voice echoed across the hall. She released his hand, but that hand was gone for the moment. He couldn't hold a pin with it. He tried to hit her with his right hand, but she caught his hand and pinned it to the wall behind him. Her grip formed firmly on his neck and she slammed him hard against the wall. Her legs swung around his left leg and she kicked his knee violently. He broke a leg. His cry was loud, but the passage was empty. No help. Her fingers curled around his neck, pinning him to the wall. He gasped, face red, but his body betrayed him as it came—a flicker of old desire in his eyes. Her eyes were dominant, staring into his soul like she could destroy him with a flicker of her finger tips. He couldn't make a move. Her jaw clenched hard and she tightened her grip on his neck. "If you ever lay a finger on me again, I won’t just break your bones. I’ll end you... slowly.” “Do you understand?” He didn't reply. “Do you understand?” She yelled, her voice commanding—filled with authority and he swallowed hard. “Yes.” He mumbled inaudibly. She let go and flung him to the ground. He watched her walking away confidently. The humiliation was burning longer than it should. “Miranda?!” He cried out in frustration and humiliation. She didn't answer. “Comeback here, Miranda!” he screamed crawling on the floor. She entered the elevator and left him… • • Back to Sunville… Inside the secret warehouse, Demian was tied to the chair and fast asleep when a bucket of icy water poured over him. He jolted from his sleep. His eyes snapped open, and standing before him was an old man. He smelled of a very expensive fragrance. His moustache, like the ancient military generals Demian had seen on books when he was studying in libraries. “Quentin Rastro huh? Demian muttered. “Son of a bitch! You just disturbed my good sleep.” “Did I?” the billionaire asked with a mocking smile. “Well… times up, boy. Time to face the consequences of laying your filthy hands on my boy Hades.” Immediately, Hades walked through the door, carrying with him various torture tools, and blades.Latest Chapter
Chapter 46: The First Blood
He clapped.Slow. Deliberate. The sound of it echoing off broken walls and smoke-stained concrete like something obscene.Demian walked forward with his hands coming together in that rhythm — unhurried, almost appreciative — and the smile on his face was the kind that had nothing warm in it."Fantastic," he said. "I'll admit it. You surprised me."Miranda watched him approach.Her chest rising and falling hard. The adrenaline of twenty men still singing through her blood. Her daggers loose in her grip.He stopped a few feet away.Looked her over the way you look at something impressive that you've decided isn't a threat."Immune to bullets." He tilted his head. "And the blades — what was it — just bounced right off you." He laughed quietly. "My men are going to need rehabilitation.""Step closer," she said. "And I'll give you something to laugh about."He crossed his hands behind his back.Rocked slightly on his heels."Here's what I keep coming back to though, Miranda." His voice s
Chapter 45: Judgement Day
The base looked like a war ground.Smoke rising from three separate points. Bodies arranged with that particular neatness that had become her signature across every camp she'd touched. The smell of gasoline and something burning polluted the air, and thick dark smoke hung over the cloud.Demian walked through it with his squad spreading out around him and felt the guilt he'd been filing under *later* arriving all at once — heavy, immediate, with nowhere left to go.Then he saw a figure —it’s her.Sitting on a concrete ledge near the far broken wall. Back straight. Black mask. Red lips. Staring at the smoke the way someone stares at a fire they built deliberately and found satisfying.Not hiding. Not running.*Just waiting.*He raised one fist, and his squad held position.There was a sudden silence. No boots crunching into broken glasses and tiles. No words. All eyes directed at her.Demian walked forward. Toward her, alone.---She didn't move when he approached.Didn't even look at
Chapter 44: The Oath He Broke
The building at 11th Mile had no name. It had been a warehouse once, inside the military base. A storage for something industrial — the ghost of machinery still visible in the anchor bolts along the floor.The ceiling looked rusted and empty. Now it was just four walls and a roof and the bodies of seventeen soldiers arranged with the particular neatness The Black Mask Immortal had developed as a signature.She sat on a concrete ledge near the window.5.9 ft tall. Black leather that cling to her body as if it was in love with her curves. Red glossy lips that whispered dangerous secrets. A dagger dangling on her hand, and a black mask shielding her face and exposing only her blue eyes.She was waiting…Then not waiting.She had stopped waiting some time ago and was now doing something else entirely.*He's not coming.*The thought had arrived gradually. Not all at once. First as a possibility, then a probability, then a fact she was arranging herself around.She looked at the entrance.
Chapter 43: The Arithmetic of Ruin
The clinic was small.Private. The kind of establishment that didn't advertise and didn't need to — its clientele found it through the particular channels that discretion traveled. Clean white walls. Soft lighting. The smell of something antiseptic underneath something floral, the two scents negotiating an uneasy peace.Diana sat in the waiting room with her hands folded in her lap and her back straight and her face arranged into the expression she'd been wearing since the collar went around her neck.Composed.Neutral.The expression of a woman who had decided that whatever she was feeling was nobody else's business.The receptionist hadn't recognized her.That was new.Three weeks ago — two weeks ago — she couldn't walk into any room in Sunville without being recognized. Twenty years of political visibility had made her face a piece of public furniture. People knew it the way they knew the national anthem or the city skyline. Automatically. Without effort.The receptionist had
Chapter 42: What He Carried Home
He took the long way back.Not intentionally. Not with a destination in mind beyond *the penthouse, eventually.* He just told the driver to move and let the city scroll past the windows while he sat with what Selena had put in the room. *She's carrying your baby. Now she wants to kill the father of her unborn child.*The city moved past.*She shouldn't have come. I have two wives here now.*He had said that out loud before. To Selena. With conviction.He was still deciding how much he believed it.---Rebecca was awake when he came through the door.Of course she was.She was sitting at the kitchen counter with a glass of water and her phone face down beside her — not reading, not watching anything, just sitting in the particular way that showed that sleep wasn't coming and she had made her peace with it.She looked up when he entered.Read his face.Said nothing for a moment.Then — "You went to the presidential building.""Yes.""And then?"He set his jacket on the chair. "And th
Chapter 41: What She Came For
She was still laughing when he stood up.Not as loud now. The laughter had settled into something lower — a quiet, sustained amusement that sat in her chest like embers. She watched him move around the room with the particular attention of someone cataloguing exits and assets simultaneously.Old habit.Professional reflex.He stopped at the window.Then looked out at the city for a moment.Then turned."Who sent you?"Not a question. The inflection of a man who already had the shape of the answer and was simply waiting for someone to fill it in.Selena tilted her head slightly. As much as the restraints allowed. "Does it matter?""Memphis Zane?" he said.She paused. A sudden hitch and pause of someone who had been caught lying through their teeth. Then she smiled.Said nothing.Which was, itself, an answer.He crossed the room. Stopped in front of her. He looked down at her with an expression that had moved past anger into something more analytical — the particular focus of a man t
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