Godslayer: Reincarnated with SSS Rank Cultivation System - Chapter 17: Surprise in the Midst of Disaster

[MATURE CONTENT]Arella is an angel.Well, she used to be an angel. A real, bona fide, halo-wearing, wing-flapping celestial being. That was until one tiny whoopsie where she unfortunately burns a pair of wings at a banquet happens.Fine!There was more than one tiny whoopsie.Fast forward a few hours later, and Arella found herself booted from the pearly gates with nothing but her wings and an eviction notice.Her family called it a “vacation.” Ha! A vacation, in the human realm of all places!One hundred years later, Arella calls it her new life. Turns out, living among humans isn’t half bad—especially when you can turn invisibly smug at their lack of ability to fly. Early retirement has never been so blissful. That is, until the heavens smack her face with a message: Arella’s back on duty. And her new job? Marry. The. Demon. King.Wait, what?!Marrying the Demon King isn’t exactly on Arella’s bucket list, especially when demons and angels have been sworn enemies for eons. But orders are orders. So, off she goes, wings drooping and attitude cranked to full sass, to meet her new husband—a devilishly handsome demon who seems unnervingly smitten with her.Not to mention the heat that surges within her the moment she lays her eyes on him. Cue in dinner dates, fiery arguments (literally), and a series of catastrophes involving Arella purposefully setting a demon's hair ablaze with her holy fire.But as Arella settles into this bizarre celestial-demonic union, she uncovers a sinister plot that threatens not just her marriage but their entire reality. Turns out, angels and demons might have to join forces to stop a threat that neither side can handle alone. And Arella? She might just be the unexpected key to saving everyone.Armed with nothing but her quick wit, trusty angelic powers, and a painfully doting husband who may or may not leave her love notes carved into rock when she is angry, Arella must navigate battles, betrayals, and the occasional marital spat to protect their world. After all, nothing says “happily ever after” like saving existence itself, .... right?Right?One fallen angel. One absolutely smitten demon king. And a whole lot of chaos.

In a land ruled by vile monsters, where death is common and life is cruel, one outcast endeavors to have it all. When misfortune drags the odd goblin Stryg from his forest home and into the ruthless city of Hollow Shade, he must try and adapt to a world that only sees him as a dimwit savage.Stryg finds himself embroiled in a school of magic, where an aristocrat's smile is filled with deceit and the simplest of remarks may lead to death threats. Yet nothing will stop him from aspiring to his beliefs of glory: power, honor, and food with salt.But as Stryg navigates through the muddled grey waters of the Ebon Realm, he will learn that some monsters lurk everywhere.

Cheap, high-quality s*aves -not.
Our diligent friend, the Goblin!

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”