Westley Curlin

Elara Vex had everything-a flawless ice core, the title of prodigy, and a place at the pinnacle of the High Tower. But in one brutal night, it was all ripped away. Her mentor tore the core from her chest. Her fiancé drove a sword through her back. Her own sister smiled as she bled out on the cold marble floor. When Elara wakes, she's years in the past, mere hours before her core is scheduled to be stolen. This time, she won't be anyone's sacrificial lamb. She shatters her own core with forbidden blood magic and forges something far more terrifying in its place-a bottomless, ravenous Chaos Core that devours magic itself. Now, branded a worthless cripple and cast into the deadly Abyss, Elara is pulled from the darkness by the outcasts of Elysium Academy-a school for heretics, psychopaths, and everything the Tower despises. Under the tutelage of a reclusive principal who knew her murdered mother, Elara will master her forbidden power and uncover the Tower's darkest secrets. When the Five Academies Ranking Tournament arrives, Seraphina Vex stands in the arena, draped in white saintess robes, ready to claim ultimate glory. She doesn't know that a ghost from her past has clawed her way back from hell. She doesn't know that Elara is coming-and this time, the prodigal sister isn't asking for mercy. She's bringing chaos.

I was rushed to the emergency room with a bleeding head after a horrific car crash. But while the doctor was stitching my forehead, I heard the nurses whispering. "The CEO of the Finley Group is upstairs right now, playing nurse to that pregnant actress." My heart stopped. I ripped out my IV and dragged my battered body to the VIP suite, only to watch my billionaire husband tenderly wipe away his mistress's tears. I filed for divorce that night and left his penthouse with nothing but a basic suitcase. Carter was furious. He tracked me down, completely ignoring my injuries, and mocked me relentlessly. "You're nothing but a breeding tool. You won't survive a week without my money." When I later collapsed from severe stomach cramps, he abandoned me on the floor because his mistress faked a panic attack over the phone. He even nearly ran me over in the freezing rain as he sped back to her side. I had loved him in secret for ten agonizing years, pouring my bleeding heart into a novel about my unrequited love. I couldn't understand how a man could be so incredibly cold-blooded to his own wife. But Carter didn't know I was the anonymous author of that global bestselling book. So when he tried to use his massive wealth to buy the film rights and give his mistress the lead role, I walked straight into his boardroom, slammed my contractual veto on the table, and finally fought back.

I had been a "decoration piece" for Kenton Parker for three years, a contract wife bought to pay off my father's gambling debts. I lived in a cold penthouse, making his coffee and answering his phones, while he treated me with the clinical indifference of a stranger. On our third anniversary, I waited alone at the city's most exclusive restaurant, only to see a news alert flash on my phone. Kenton wasn't coming. He was caught on camera at a hospital, looking at his "friend," ballerina Blanca Donovan, with a raw, frantic worry he had never once shown me, not even when I fell down a flight of stairs. I finally snapped and filed for divorce, citing his "irreversible erectile dysfunction" just to destroy his massive ego. I thought I was free, but Kenton retaliated with a cruelty that left me breathless. He froze every bank account I owned and had his secretary smash the last photo I had of my mother. He reminded me of the five-million-dollar penalty in my contract-money I didn't have. "You don't get to leave until I say so," he roared, dragging me into his office. He used my father's life as a leash, forcing me to play the part of a doting wife at his family's Hamptons estate to please his sick mother. He wanted to starve me out until I crawled back to his side. I couldn't understand how a man could be so heartless. He didn't want my heart, yet he refused to let me go, treating my life like a line item in a corporate merger. He wanted to keep me as his prisoner while he spent his nights with another woman. But Kenton made one fatal mistake. He thought I was just a broke, submissive secretary with nowhere to turn. He didn't know that I was "Vee," a world-renowned art restorer with a secret legacy and a six-figure commission waiting for me. As we shared a bed in the Hamptons and he pulled me against his chest, whispering that I was "his," I didn't feel comfort. I felt the cold, hard spark of a woman who was finally ready to burn his contract to the ground.

My life had quickly unraveled. For seven years, Emily, my fiancée, had been my world. But then Mark Miller arrived, claiming he'd saved her from a hotel fire. He and his young son, Billy, quickly moved into Emily's life, and ours, consuming every space until I became an intruder in my own home. Emily, once so brilliant and driven, transformed. Anything I suggested was met with "Mark says," or "Billy wants." My career was sidelined as I supported her, only to find myself watching her plan picnics with another man's son for "the investor meeting can wait, Billy is more important." The final straw came when Billy, in my study, broke my grandmother's music box, my most precious possession. Mark casually dismissed it as "just an old box." When I got angry, Billy screamed I pushed him, and Emily, without a second thought, decided to side with them. "Mark and Billy are staying here tonight. Billy can have your bed. You can sleep in the guest room." She was literally kicking me out of my own life, one room at a time. I was suspended from my job based on Emily's false accusations and locked out of my apartment by changed locks. This betrayal meant I couldn't reach my dying grandmother, missing her final moments. I was left with nothing but the cold, hard realization that Emily didn't care. With Emily sharing a picture online, calling me "negativity," and cozying up with Mark in our favorite restaurant, I knew I had to act. It was time for a real change, a new beginning. I called Sarah Jenkins. "I'm ready," I told her. "Let's do it. Tomorrow, if you can."

The world tilted, then fell away, the polished marble floor rushing up to meet me. One moment, I was adjusting lights for my new art exhibit, the next, a sickening crack left me in darkness, my legs gone. Awakening in a hospital, the rhythmic beeping of machines and a strange, mechanical ticking from my chest were my only companions. My fiancé, Mark, was just outside the door, his voice low and urgent. "Is it done, Mr. Henderson? Is everything taken care of?" he asked the gallery owner. "The ladder was tampered with, just as you instructed," Henderson replied, his voice gravelly. "It was a tragic accident. No one will suspect a thing." Then I heard the doctor: "The legs were unsalvageable. The damage to her heart was severe. We had to implant the synthetic unit. She'll live, but she'll never walk again." "Perfect. Absolutely perfect," Mark laughed, his voice stripped of all warmth. My private collection, my legacy, was the "real prize" he needed for his gallery, and their deal included securing a scholarship for Emily, his protégé. This was all for Emily. Panic clawed at my throat. My art, my life' s passion, was stolen, and the man I was going to marry, the father of the child growing inside me, had orchestrated it all. For money. For his gallery. For another woman' s career. The pain from my body raged, but it was nothing compared to the cold, dead void that opened inside me. I was a machine, my heart ticking like a clock counting down a life I no longer wanted. My instincts led me to my stomach, now flat and soft. The tiny life, a secret meant for Mark, was a lie. When a nurse mentioned prenatal care, I choked out, "Cancel it. I want to schedule an abortion." My tears were the last I would shed for the life he had stolen. Mark' s performance for the outside world was flawless, but I saw the ugly, rotten canvas beneath his beautiful lies. He hadn' t loved me; he' d loved my assets. Days blurred into pain and physical therapy. Mark brought Emily to visit, her feigned sympathy twisting knives in my gut. He even boasted that she was cataloging my stolen collection. He was replacing me, in every possible way, and flaunting it. When he proposed a "documentary" to exploit my broken body, I knew I was trapped. He' d built this cage deliberately. He' d stolen everything, leaving me with nothing. But a different appointment awaited. They found a body by the river, a white shoe, and a note, leading Mark to believe I had taken my own life. Emily' s hysterical accusations that I was faking it turned his fury on her. He spun a tale of tragic loss, cementing his image as the grieving fiancé. Mark grieved not for me, but for his ruined scheme. He cast me as a villain-a cheater, pregnant with another man' s child-to absolve himself. But as David Chen, my kind friend, stood at my grave, his heart heavy, I sat alive in his living room in Norway. "He cried," David said, his voice thick. "He also told me you were pregnant with another man's child." The plan was desperate, conceived from the ashes of that day. David, the only one I trusted, had helped me fake my death, swap my body with a Jane Doe, and build a new life as Anna Jensen. My escape was flawless. David loved me, not for what I had, but for who I was-scars, synthetic heart, and all. He saw the woman, not the wheelchair. He understood. And in that moment, a fragile seed of hope began to sprout. Two years passed. I became a renowned art restorer, and with David, co-founded Chen-Miller Restorations. Then came the opportunity of a lifetime: a project in New York, my old home. I was tired of hiding. I was strong. I was loved. I was whole. At the Harrison Foundation' s gala, I saw him again. Mark. Thinner, haggard, staring at me as if I were a ghost. "Sarah?" he whispered, hoarse. "You're dead." "Reports of my death were, as you can see, greatly exaggerated." He begged for another chance, blaming his failures on my supposed death, clinging to pity. "I know you still love me. You have to." I laughed, cold and dismissive. "Love you? Mark, I don't even know you." He grabbed my arm, his old anger surfacing. "You owe me an explanation! Prove you're her!" "She doesn't have to prove anything to you," David' s calm, steady voice cut through the tension as he stepped protectively to my side. I held up my hand, my diamond catching the light. "This is David Chen, my partner and my fiancé." Mark stared, defeated. I looked him straight in the eye: "The Sarah Miller you knew, the one you tried to destroy, is dead. You killed her. Let her rest in peace. You and I, Mark, are done." I walked away, leaning on David, leaving Mark a relic of a past I had finally, completely overcome. Emily was arrested for fraud, Mark' s gallery liquidated, and he faded into obscurity. David and I married, surrounded by loving family. My story was a testament to resilience, healing, and a love that empowered, called me whole. I found my true masterpiece: a life built on truth, love, and unshakable self-worth. I was home.

The sharp sting across my cheek snapped my head back, my hair flying. It came from Chloe, the young intern, whose hand was still raised, her eyes wide with a calculated fear that twisted into a perfect lie. "Ava, I'm so sorry," she whispered, staging a stumble that sent her crashing dramatically to the floor as Leo, my fiancé, burst into my office, his face a mask of thunderous rage. He didn't even glance at me, rushing straight to Chloe' s side, cradling her as she sobbed a manufactured tale of my jealousy. His mother's smug voice suddenly echoed from his phone, "Leo, I told you she was unstable. Not fit to be part of our family." And then, his command, "Apologize to Chloe." Followed by a terrifying countdown, leveraging my younger brother Finn's fragile mental state against me. I swallowed the humiliation and forced the words out, "I'm sorry, Chloe." My hand, resting on my stomach, trembled as a cold dread washed over me-the faint flutter of life I' d felt last week now a lead weight. This couldn't be happening. My perfect life, shattering around me, and I knew, with horrifying certainty, this was only the beginning.

I was a devoted mother, my world revolving around my precious baby girl, Lily. All I wanted was to keep her safe, to give her the best life possible, despite living under my in-laws' roof. But my mother-in-law, Karen, was a monster of penny-pinching cruelty. Her idiotic refusal to pay for proper medical care for Lily's jaundice, choosing a blazing hot lamp instead, was just the beginning. Then came her ultimate act of malice: swapping Lily's vital probiotic with her lethal pesticide, Bora-Kill. My baby, my sweet Lily, died a horrific, agonizing death. My husband, Mike, blamed me, calling it an accident, while his father, Frank, backed them both up. Consumed by a rage so pure it burned, I ended it all, taking them with me in a fiery gas explosion. The last thing I remembered was the sweet, cloying scent of gas, and a chilling satisfaction. Then I opened my eyes, not to death, but to the familiar, dingy floral wallpaper of Karen' s living room. Disbelief warred with a crushing wave of horror: I was alive, somehow, back in the very moment the nightmare began. And I heard it again – the piercing cry of my baby. This time, there would be no mistake. No more weeping for a broken life. I had the foresight, the memory of every single treacherous move they would make. My grief now fueled an unstoppable resolve: I would protect my Lily, and I would make every single one of them pay.

My picturesque New England life shattered the moment the school nurse called. Lily, my bright, artistic daughter, AB-positive? Impossible. I'm O-negative. The doctor's genetics lesson was a punch to the gut: Lily couldn't be mine. Then, the real earthquake hit. Overhearing Grant, my devoted husband, revealed a sinister conspiracy. Bea Baker, his old flame, was back, and Lily was her daughter through a twisted surrogacy plot. Grant was secretly bankrolling her silence. The betrayal deepened. He'd been drugging me, keeping me from conceiving. My 'perfect' life was a lie, meticulously crafted by a man I barely knew. He'd even developed Bea's family farm into a soulless mall, crushing her family in the process. Fury and disgust warred within me. Bea knew too much about my 'miscarriage.' She hinted at Northwood Pharma, experimental testing and my stolen baby used for science. Grant's face, smiling, taunting, haunted me. He was meeting Bea tomorrow. The affair was current, not just old history. He wants her to live with us! This charade ends now. My quest for truth had just begun. How deep does this rabbit hole go? And what happened to my own baby? Retribution is coming.

Alina was the eldest daughter of the prestigious Padilla family, but everyone mocked her as a defective dud who couldn't cast a single spell. The moment she woke up, her father and younger sister Karina barged into her room, demanding she sign a transfer agreement to the Aethelgard Order-the most brutal faction on the continent. It wasn't just a transfer; it was a legal disownment. In her past life, Alina didn't realize Karina was also reborn. She had dropped to her knees and begged to stay. Her reward? Her magic was violently drained from her veins by her own family. Her fiancé drove a blade through her chest, and her sister stood over her bleeding body, smiling. She had ruined her hands making potions for them, only to be discarded like trash. The phantom pain of her chest being ripped open still burned behind her ribs. Looking at the hypocritical family waiting for her tears, she felt nothing but exhausting disgust. Why should she ever be their stepping stone again? "For the honor of the family, you leave today." Her father sneered as she calmly bit her thumb and pressed her bloody fingerprint onto the contract. This time, Alina didn't cry. She packed a single bag and walked out the door, heading straight for the deadly Aethelgard Order to show them what a true monster looked like.

My retirement was finally approved, and I was supposed to be sipping drinks on a sunny beach. Instead, a cold system voice forced me into a nightmare scenario: "Cursed Mates Who Want Me Dead." I woke up in a stinking cave, trapped in the body of a psychopathic tribal princess. The memories that flooded my brain made me sick. The original owner of this body had forcibly marked seven of the continent's most powerful beast-men and reduced them to tortured pets. She had ripped the shimmering scales off Jordi the Merfolk prince, gouged out a proud wolf-man's power crystal, and snapped an eagle-man's magnificent wings. Now, Jordi was a mutilated, terrified mess hiding in a corner. He was so traumatized that he tried to slit his own throat just to escape me. His sister was actively trying to assassinate me. To make matters worse, the system warned me that if I didn't heal these seven ticking time bombs, my soul would be erased. Yet the future timeline clearly showed that these men would eventually unite, burn my tribe to the ground, and dismember me alive. I was paying for a monster's sins. Every time I tried to show mercy, they thought it was a sick new torture method. Words were useless, and my very presence was a trigger. But I am a Tier-S operative, and I don't play the victim. I forced the system to unlock my powers and strapped on my tactical gear. "Stay here and don't starve." I left the trembling Merfolk behind and walked into the deadly primitive forest, heading straight for the powerful Oasis Tribe to take back his stolen scales by force.

Brandi Ratcliff was the most dedicated core disciple of Silver Peak Academy. But the moment Seraphina's magic core showed signs of weakness, the Dean and Brandi's trusted peers cornered her. They demanded she hand over her life-bound Azure Lotus Artifact. "Give it to her, Brandi. It is for the greater good of the academy." In her past life, Brandi naively gave in to their pressure. The result was a brutal betrayal. They forcefully drained her magic circuits dry to transfer the artifact, causing her veins to collapse. She bled out on the cold stone floor, listening to the very people she trusted praise Seraphina's recovery while stepping over her dying body. They dismissed her as a necessary, disposable sacrifice. Until her dying breath, Brandi didn't understand. Why was her absolute loyalty rewarded with a gruesome death? Why did she have to be the sacrificial lamb on their altar just because Seraphina knew how to fake a few tears? Opening her eyes again, the stale, incense-heavy air of the Dean's office filled her lungs. She was back at the exact moment they demanded her artifact. Looking at their hypocritical, greedy faces, Brandi didn't defend herself like the desperate girl she once was. She gripped the lotus and violently severed the soul contract herself, tossing the dead metal onto the desk like garbage. She threw down her elite silver badge right next to it. "I am officially withdrawing from Silver Peak Academy." In this life, she absolutely refused to be their stepping stone.

Agent Alivia Sanford opened her eyes to the suffocating stench of wild animal musk and raw sex. She hadn't just transmigrated into a savage beastman world; she had woken up in the body of a 300-pound, diseased, and universally despised woman. Worse, the original owner had just drugged the tribe's strongest warrior, trying to force a mating. Now, the warrior pinned her to the cave floor with murderous fury. "You think you can trap me, you disgusting pig?" he snarled, ready to rip her throat out. After kneeing him and escaping, a "Super Charm AI" bound to her mind demanded she conquer her five designated mates to survive. But these men treated her like a walking plague. They mocked her bloated face, threw bloody raw meat into the mud for her to eat, and publicly announced they would starve her to death. Even her own family looked at her with utter disgust. In her past life, she was a legendary survivor who could have crushed these arrogant men with her bare hands. Now, she was trapped in a weak shell, threatened with soul erasure by a system if she didn't grovel for their affection. Why should she beg for love from beasts who wanted her dead? Looking at the five "-100" hostility scores on her system panel, Alivia coldly drew a mental cross over each of their faces. Enduring agonizing pain, she forced her bio-manipulation ability to violently purge the toxins from her fat body. She wasn't going to play their twisted game; she was going to find her own resources and make them pay.

Elara Vex had everything-a flawless ice core, the title of prodigy, and a place at the pinnacle of the High Tower. But in one brutal night, it was all ripped away. Her mentor tore the core from her chest. Her fiancé drove a sword through her back. Her own sister smiled as she bled out on the cold marble floor. When Elara wakes, she's years in the past, mere hours before her core is scheduled to be stolen. This time, she won't be anyone's sacrificial lamb. She shatters her own core with forbidden blood magic and forges something far more terrifying in its place-a bottomless, ravenous Chaos Core that devours magic itself. Now, branded a worthless cripple and cast into the deadly Abyss, Elara is pulled from the darkness by the outcasts of Elysium Academy-a school for heretics, psychopaths, and everything the Tower despises. Under the tutelage of a reclusive principal who knew her murdered mother, Elara will master her forbidden power and uncover the Tower's darkest secrets. When the Five Academies Ranking Tournament arrives, Seraphina Vex stands in the arena, draped in white saintess robes, ready to claim ultimate glory. She doesn't know that a ghost from her past has clawed her way back from hell. She doesn't know that Elara is coming-and this time, the prodigal sister isn't asking for mercy. She's bringing chaos.

I was just hiking in Yosemite, but I woke up in a primitive forest with two moons and giant, mutated beasts. Before I could even process the shock, I was attacked by a monstrous saber-toothed tiger, only to be saved by a massive silver wolf who suddenly transformed into a fiercely possessive, completely naked man named Caleb. He claimed me as his own and carried me to his sprawling beast-man tribe. But the moment we arrived, I became the target of vicious ridicule. Jana, the tribe's most fertile female, pointed at my unmarked skin and publicly humiliated me. "She has no mate marks! She's a barren waste, useless for breeding!" Hearing this, the hundreds of beast-men who had just been eyeing me with lust instantly stepped back in disgust. In this twisted, animalistic society, a female's worth was tied entirely to her ability to produce strong cubs. I stood there shivering, terrified and degraded, reduced to nothing but a defective piece of meat. I braced myself for the inevitable, waiting for Caleb to realize my worthlessness and throw me out to be torn apart by the wild. Instead, a terrifying, suffocating aura exploded from his body, bringing the entire tribe to their knees. He swatted the fertile female away in disgust, scooped me into his arms, and turned his back on the camp. "She is my only mate," he declared, his ice-blue eyes promising violence to anyone who dared to look at me.

Elena died on the operating table, betrayed by her husband, her unborn child already gone. But death? Just her intermission. She woke up in a whole new world-a beastmen's world, where females are rarer than diamonds and the strongest males go mad without a woman's mark to calm them down. And her? Labelled the weakest female alive. An F-rank body with a joke of a status. But hidden inside? Unlimited mental power. Just as she's figuring out this mess, a system pops up with one hell of an offer: Complete the missions. Bond with assigned males. Save this world. Do all that, and you get a one-way ticket back home. for revenge. Sounds simple? Think again. A Wolf General, colder than a blizzard, who should have ended her-ended up letting her mark him. A Fox Prince, all charming smiles and secret schemes, who started playing games only to lose his own heart. A golden Dragon, sunshine-bright and fiercely possessive, who declares her his destined treasure. A shadowy Serpent, too patient and too dangerous, watching her every move from the dark. A Phoenix King, whose love burns so hot he'd reduce empires to cinders for her. They all need her mark. They all want her. And sharing? Not in their vocabulary. Too bad for them- She's not here for love stories. She's here to survive. To climb. To turn their legendary power into her own stepping stones. And one day. To go back and make her betrayers wish they were never born.

As the eldest daughter of the Sharp family, I was treated worse than a stray dog, while my younger sister Seraphina was their precious princess. When the family needed someone to marry a dying billionaire heir, they naturally chose me to take her place. To force my consent, my brothers held a peanut butter sandwich to my face—knowing it was a lethal allergy—while dangling my EpiPen just out of reach. On speakerphone, my own mother sighed in annoyance. "Let her die. It might be for the best." I choked out an agreement just as my throat closed up. But the forced engagement broke my sacred mystical vow, causing me to violently cough up my own lifeblood. Seeing the blood, Seraphina dramatically fainted. My brothers instantly carried her to the hospital, stepping over my dying body and leaving me to bleed out on the cold marble floor. I had to use a forbidden blood rune, draining my last ounce of strength, just to survive the night. Even the mystical Order I served offered no comfort, calling only to demand I secure ten billion dollars for them or forfeit my soul for eternity. Abandoned by my blood family and my spiritual master, I was completely alone, left with nothing but a broken body and a ticking clock. But they made one fatal mistake: they let me live. I turned to the dying heir they forced me to marry, a man plagued by a dark curse only I could cure. "I will be your wife, and I will save your life," I told him. In exchange, I would use his unimaginable wealth and power to make everyone who threw me away pay the ultimate price.

At the absolute summit of her pop-star career, the stage collapsed beneath Catherine's feet, plunging her into a mechanical black hole. When she opened her eyes, she wasn't in a hospital, but a savage, primitive forest. Before a fire-breathing beast could tear her apart, a massive black snake crushed it with a single strike. The terrifying serpent then transformed into Amon, a towering, heavily scarred man with golden slitted eyes, who swore his life to protect her. He brought her to his tribe, but instead of safety, they were met with ravenous hunger and disgust. The tribe's males stared at Catherine's fragile human body like a rare breeding prize, while treating Amon like garbage. "He's a cursed, cold-blooded freak! His rut will tear you to pieces!" The Chief sneered, pointing a thick, accusing finger at Amon. "By tribal law, you must mate with our strongest tiger and bear shifters to give us powerful cubs!" Humiliated, Amon's broad shoulders slumped, his fists trembling in suffocating shame as he prepared to back away. Catherine's heart pounded with fierce, burning anger. When she was about to be eaten, Amon was the only one who bled for her. Where were these arrogant bullies then? Why should she let them treat her savior like a monster? As the tribe's strongest warriors swarmed forward to claim her, Catherine stepped directly in front of Amon's lethal claws. "I don't need any of you," she declared, her voice cutting through the chaos. "I will mate with Amon and take his beast mark today!"

For three years, Alana acted as the sole tactical brain for the Dawnbreaker squad, keeping them alive despite being labeled a useless "Dud" Conduit. But right before the crucial Ascension Trials, squad leader Cash handed her a corporate sponsorship contract. The condition? She had to become the "private companion" to a greasy corporate heir just so the squad could get high-tier gear. When she refused, the teammates she had bled for unanimously voted to kick her out. "You're just window dressing, a liability." They revoked her safehouse access, burned her belongings, and the academy advisor even tried to force her into a state-sanctioned breeding program. They left her to freeze in the slums, betting she would desperately crawl into the rich man's bed. What they didn't know was that her inability to summon an Eidolon wasn't a lack of talent. Her teammate Dallin had been secretly sabotaging her rituals for years, crippling her potential just to keep her chained as their free tactician. Stripped of everything and pushed to the absolute brink, Alana's despair morphed into a deadly resolve. Using a million-credit black market loan and a forbidden blood matrix, she forcibly anchored an Apex-Tier cosmic wolf disguised as a harmless silver pup. When her ex-squad tried to publicly humiliate her and burn her new "pet" alive in the cafeteria, a flash of silver light severed Dallin's hand instantly. Looking at her screaming former teammates, Alana finally smiled.