Lahat ng Kabanata ng My Alpha is a Lunatic: Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

The crude wooden door of my hut swung open before Liam could answer them. I stepped out into the clearing, the late afternoon light filtering through the trees. The two players—a man and a woman—jumped, but their surprise quickly curdled into open contempt.The woman, with sharp features and a sneer that looked practiced, took two steps forward. "I heard them call you Kiera. That name means nothing. You're either a green rookie or a washed-up veteran who's managed to stay invisible. Either way, you have no business teaming up with someone like Liam Reed. Do us all a favor and bow out."I let my gaze slide over her, slow and dismissive. "The desperate need to tear someone else down to make yourself feel valuable. How… predictable." My voice was flat. "And loud. I was trying to think."Her face flushed. I could feel Liam's eyes on me, a silent, assessing weight. He wasn't intervening. He was waiting. Testing.Good. Let him watch."You arrogant little—" The woman's hand snapped up. A shi

My tone wasn’t my usual manic glee. It was soft. Earnest. Deadly serious. I looked them right in the eyes, letting not a single flicker of my internal chaos show.Marcus and Spark stared, processing. Then, excitement lit their faces.Blow up the island. Of course. Why hadn’t they thought of it?Destroy the Instance, clear the objective. It was a classic, if suicidal, brute-force play. The forums were full of horror stories—some dungeons collapsed, granting a win. Others rebuilt themselves, or took the offending players with them into oblivion. It was a gamble no sane veteran took.But the possibility… it was intoxicating. And I was the one offering it.If anyone else had proposed this, they’d have laughed in her face. But it was me. Kiera Vance. The rookie Liam Reed had chosen.They didn’t know me. But they knew of Liam. His reputation was solid, his survival rate legendary. He wouldn’t stake his life on a plan that was pure suicide. Therefore, this mad scheme must have merit. It must

“What kind of scam is this?” I slam my palms on the rough table, the sound cracking over the grotesque feast. “You charge a fortune for this ‘luxury retreat’ and then serve your ‘honored guests’ this… this filth? I’m not eating it. I want real food before nightfall, or I will burn your reviews to the ground.”I don’t just push my plate away. I sweep it off the table. The monstrous, half-cooked fish-thing lands in the sand with a wet thud.It’s not enough. The rage is a live wire under my skin. I kick my chair back, sending it skidding, and turn on my heel without another glance.I feel their eyes on my back. The Manager. The three servers with their plastic smiles. The air doesn’t chill with anger. It thickens with something worse—a patient, predatory stillness.I don’t look back.Halfway to the tree line, the Manager’s voice floats after me, smooth as poisoned honey. “We would never force a guest to eat. It’s against our principles. When one is truly hungry… one eats.”A rule. It has

When Server #1 saw the manic grin spreading across Kiera’s face, his lightning-fast charge faltered for a split second.A flicker of genuine confusion crossed his expressionless mask. For a heartbeat, he seemed to wonder which of them was the real monster here.The hesitation didn’t last. My fist was already arcing toward his face.The impact was solid, a wet crunch that caved in his features. It didn’t matter. The flesh just… reinflated, like dough. Normal attacks were useless here. His mouth split into a wider grin, black blood oozing from the corners as his clawed hand, wreathed in a sickly dark mist, slashed toward me.I felt it before it connected—a wrongness in the air, a force that promised to bypass flesh and bone and shred my very essence. I threw myself backward, but not fast enough. The claws raked across my chest.And… nothing.No pain. No tearing. Just a dull, resonant thud.The S-Class Warrior’s Armor had absorbed the blow. More than that, a surge of power, hot and golde

The look on my face was pure, unadulterated innocence. I was the picture of someone who’d just done them a massive, selfless favor.They felt the throbbing ache in their bones, the sharp sting on their faces and scalps. The suspicion was a physical thing between us—they knew, with every fiber of their battered bodies, that I’d taken my pound of flesh. That every blow had been personal.But the words died in their throats. They couldn’t remember the madness, but they remembered the slide into it. And the video didn’t lie. They’d been monsters, trying to kill each other, trying to kill themselves. I was the one who’d pulled them back from the edge.So even if I’d enjoyed it a little too much, even if my ‘treatment’ involved more blunt force trauma than strictly necessary… I’d said it was the only way. And they were sane. However bruised. They had no ground to stand on.Marcus Stone was the first to break the tense silence, his voice rough. “After lunch… I started seeing things. Flashes.