Second World - Chapter 1950Chapter . Breaking Out of Prison

Within the red tent, under the passionate eyes of the man on top, she was forced to make love and three thousand black strands turned to white.

« MATURE CONTENT »His name is Raven Lustre. And the universe fucked him from day one.Imagine this: You get isekai'd to a fantasy world. Finally, right? Your moment. Dragon slayers, demon kings, the whole power fantasy package. Except when everyone else rolled Dragon, Archangel, Titan—bloodlines so pure they could split mountains on day one—you got Incubus.60% purity. The discount bin special.Not the “seduce and conquer” kind you read about in those masterpiece web novels. The “your pheromones are weaker than cologne” kind. The “you can't charm anyone stronger than you” kind. Which in a world where everyone else is a walking apocalypse? Means you can't charm anyone who matters.So while Gareth—the muscle-brained Titan hero—was bench-pressing boulders, and Astasia—the Holy Archangel with a body that belonged in a cathedral and a face she hid behind a helmet—was literally glowing with divine power, Raven was in the back. The strategist. The brain. The guy they kept around because someone had to think.And they hated him for it.Astasia called him trash. Disgusting. Bastard. Freak.Every curse word a noblewoman could learn, she threw at him like stones. He thought she despised him. Thought she saw him as the weakest link dragging down the hero party.Turns out? 89% favorability. She was a fucking tsundere.And he never knew. Never saw it. Because he was too busy surviving, too busy stealing quick fucks with noblewomen in hallways just to recharge his trash-tier powers, too busy being treated like a prostitute with a brain instead of a hero.Then there was Nyra. The cat-woman. Gareth's slave. The one Raven fucked in secret because that idiot was too busy drawing pictures of Astasia like a lovesick puppy. 96% favorability. The one who actually loved him. The one he promised to free.And he failed.An Incubus got who died at Hand of Succubus during their first Session.The End.

A wedding forged in vengeance, where love is the only risk they never planned for.“Let's get married,” Mia says, her voice trembling despite the fire in her eyes as she meets Stefan's guarded gaze. She needs this—needs him—even if he looks at her like she's just another complication.Stefan arches a brow, unimpressed. “And why would I do that?”“We both know what it's like to be betrayed by the men who raised us,” she replies, refusing to back down. “They stole our birthrights and handed them to someone else. The only difference is… you're the illegitimate one. I'm not.”He studies her—this heiress in designer armor, hiding rage beneath polish. “So your grand plan is a wedding band as revenge?”“No,” she says, stepping closer, close enough for him to smell the jasmine and gunpowder. “It's the only weapon they won't see coming.”Their fathers built empires by manipulation and control. Now, their children are making a vow—to burn it all down.Two shattered heirs. One dangerous alliance. A marriage built on vengeance.Mia Meyers was born to inherit her father's empire—until he handed it to his bastard son instead. Stefan Sterling knows rejection too well, discarded by a father who only valued power. Now, these rivals-turned-co-conspirators hatch a plan: marry for revenge, crush their fathers' legacies, and take what should've always been theirs.No love. No feelings. No divorce.But as lines blur between strategy and obsession, the real question becomes: can two enemies survive a marriage built not on trust—but on spite?

“Ding! Congratulations! You have received 7 billion red pockets!”

“Ding! Congratulations! You have received 50 million yuan!”

“Ding! Congratulations! You have received a Lamborghini Aventador!”

“Ding! Congratulations! You have received 51% stock of a listed company!”

“Ding! Congratulations! You have received a whole tower worth 5 billion!”

“Ding! Congratulations! You have received the skill, Combat King!”

“Ding! Congratulations! You have received the skill, God’s Singing Voice!”

“7 billion red packets? How long will it even take me to open all of them?” Lin Fan complained.

“Excuse me, how long do you think it will take you to earn a million?” a certain random reporter asked.

Lin Fan was silent.

“Sorry, but, why do you keep blinking?” the reporter asked.

“Didn’t you ask how long it would take?”