Purgatory Artist - Chapter 150: Inhuman

Lin Luoran is a 27-year-old girl from a rural family. She doesn’t have a college degree, let alone any money.

(WARNING: MATURE CONTENT AND DARK THEMES AHEAD)“Odessa...” His whisper brought me back to reality, causing me to flutter my eyelids as I brought my gaze back to his eyes. “Focus. Tell me to shove it in.”Argh, what's his fucking problem?We were having some fun and he's suddenly acting like he's all about consent?“Since when do you care about what I think?” I couldn't help but ask, arching an eyebrow.He stared at me for a good few seconds, forcing me to divert my gaze back to his dick.Yup... Still harder than a rock.“I don't.” He suddenly responded, causing me to clench my jaw as I brought my gaze back to his annoyingly attractive silver eyes. “If I wanted to, I'd simply tie you up without saying a thing and then fuck you until the entire pack hears you screaming my name. But...”He paused, his smirk turning into a grin as he brought his mouth to my ear and whispered. “... I want to see you beg for it. I want to see you grovel at my feet, pleading for the sweet release of me fucking you. The mate bond has heightened your sex drive, hon. And I'm the only one capable of taming it.”*****In a modern Earth torn by war between the werewolves and witches, the life of Odessa Pierce, the lowest ranking witch of her coven, is changed forever when her coven surrenders her to the Alpha King of the North American region himself to be his bride as a symbol of a “truce”.However, in a shocking twist, she discovers that she's mated to the ruthless Alpha King and now has to navigate her growing feelings for a man she thought she'd hate, while still trying to survive in a world that's out to eliminate her kind.As ancient prophecies and hidden agendas arise, will she be able to pierce through the dark veil clouding the Alpha King's heart and make him accept her? Or will their relationship ultimately crumble under the brunt of the hidden secrets and revelations that begin sprouting? And what will be her role in this never-ending war? Follow Odessa and Kaelos's story to find out.

When Isaac opens his eyes, he finds neither eternal rest nor peaceful reincarnation... but a descent into hell. He wakes up in a world identical to his own, except for one terrifying detail: portals filled with monsters are popping up everywhere, and if no one stops them within three days, the apocalypse is upon us. Here, only enlightened hunters - graded from F to SS - have the power to confront these nightmarish creatures. The problem? Isaac is an F-rank, an orphan with no future, condemned to survive in the shadows of the strongest.But one night, everything changes. His spirit is torn from this world and plunged into another, a veritable hell where humanity is no more than a herd of slaves under the yoke of dragons. Tortured and broken, Isaac soon understands one thing: this other world isn't just a nightmare... it's a warning.As he fights for his life, a miracle occurs: an enigmatic system enables him to steal the power of the monsters he slays.[*Ding* Would you like to absorb the physical stats?]Weak yesterday, predator today, he has but one goal: to unravel the mysteries of both realities and crush those who would see him fail.With a katana in hand and a secret burning in his soul, Isaac refuses to be a victim. If he wants to survive, he has only one option: become the ultimate hunter... before history repeats itself.

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.”