My Celestial Ascension - Chapter 314 Unique Aura

One minute, I was a medical doctor rushing to work. The next, I woke up as a lowly omega inside the pages of my favorite werewolf novel The Psycho Alpha.Alpha Zachary Black. The cruel, ruthless, dangerously sexy Alpha of the Redwood Pack. The same man who kills anyone who breathes wrong around him. Especially women.He hates them. Despises weakness. And he definitely doesn’t believe in love. And he chose me as his personal omega. But there’s something wrong with me. I can hear his thoughts. Not just random thoughts. Dirty thoughts. Dark, possessive, obsessive ones about me. His so-called “personal omega.”He thinks I’m weak, fragile, breakable… but he also wants to ruin me, claim me, devour me. Every time he looks at me, his inner voice screams things his lips would never dare say out loud.I should be afraid of him. I should run far, far away. But how do you escape someone who owns your body and now, wants your soul?Worse, he’s starting to suspect I’m not who I say I am. Because I’m not just Christy, the omega. I’m a stranger in this world, trying to survive a plot I already know ends in blood.

When a Demonic Assault occurs, most people stuck inside of a Fracture end up hiding inside of a bunker in the hopes that they don’t end up killed by a demon.

Others might even hope for the slightest possible chance at signing a contract with a spirit and becoming a Guardian.

So when Scarlet was caught in a Fracture, the last thing she expected was to become a demon herself.

Exactly two centuries ago, humanity was struck with their very first Demonic Assault.

The skies above the capital of the US, shattering as if made of glass; demons of all kinds appearing out of nowhere; and no way to effectively stop them before the end of the Assault.

On the brink of devastation, some of the humans managed to find themselves offered a contract whilst inside of a Fracture. One bringing a chance at power, fame, and fortune.

Now, long after every nation of the world joined together to form the Terran Republic, Scarlet finds herself stuck trying to find a university from the Republic’s capital that will accept someone from a lower tier city into their midst.

But, as if that wasn’t already enough trouble for one person to bear, she somehow ends up stuck in one of the Fractures of a Demonic Assault while visiting her father figure’s company building.

However, she doesn't perish in the darkness and instead awakens her dormant bloodline as a noble demon.

A Blood Lycan.

Turns out she had been a demon all along and had been born for the apocalypse.

Qi Condensation. Foundation Establishment. Core Formation. In the current world, only these three realms are known to be achievable. Nascent Soul is but a legend and the realms above it lost to the the long river of time. The modern era is known as Cultivation Civilization, a balance of power and civility, excess and moderation. While cultivation remains a secret practice, it has long since exposed itself to the mundane world, quietly intertwined with each facet of society. While the world appears to be at peace, what lies underneath is a conflict between human, cultivator, and demon, brewing for ages and waiting to implode. Yet in the wake of humanity’s rapid industrialization, qi—and consequently cultivation—is dying.

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.”