Evil Overlord Novels & Stories

"And I want the night to last forever. Our interests align. His gates will flood this world with primal energy. Magic will return as the dominant force. And my children will inherit the eternal dark." Amy stepped forward, her dual blades forming instinctively. "You want to turn the world into a buffet." The Overlord's smile showed perfect, sharp teeth. "I prefer to think of it as... restoring the natural order. Predator and prey." "Enough talk," Classy said, crouching and touching the ground. The concrete surged up, forming a barrier between them and the Overlord. "You want a fight? Let's fight." Windwalker clapped from his perch. Bravo! Straight to the action!

And as soon as he noticed my dread, he shouted a command. "Fall back!" Everyone scrambled to their feet. Despite the attempted recession, it seems like it was all too late. We were now about to face a beast who rules this forest. Taowu, is one of the four pillars of evil. A personification and mixture of nature and destruction.

The woman was left speechless and so surprised she couldn't help but stare as Zoe was passing. "This bi*** of Lin Zoe." she ground her teeth as she lowered her head angrily "Even though I have been here just for two years I can have more than one trick in my bag." The woman murmured in a calm evil voice "Uh oh! I just got a new enemy." She said in an evil tone

He was a rising star, a name that echoed with promise and potential. Then there was Ethan Ifrit, the exiled son of Duke Ifrit. His name carried a weight of history, a legacy of innovation and unparalleled courage. It was he who had devised the blueprints for the terrifying flying terrors that now patrolled the kingdom's skies, and the potent mana bombs that had decimated the ranks of the Beastmen. He was the architect of their defenses, the mastermind behind their victories. His recent triumph against a legion of Beastmen, a feat that had sent shockwaves through the kingdom, solidified his reputation as a warrior of unmatched skill and determination.

He slowly knelt on the floor and grabbed both of her hands, she visibly flinched, “Please believe in every word that would come out of my mouth.” Olivia scrunched her brows and unconsciously bit her lip, “Go on.” Smiling, Lucius finally popped the truth. “I am a King from Hell. I have had help from both Emily and Victoria Davis to find for the woman that was destined for me and written in the scroll of prophecy. I need you, Olivia. My immortality is fading and I needed to marry the woman written in the scroll to retrieve my full immortality. I’m sure you noticed that you felt cold whenever our skin touch, it’s a sign. And now that I found you and you’re mine… we can go back to hell and marry

"Though I suppose yours might actually be one." The no-fur smirked as he reached out to grope the Throne's crotch, not breaking eye contact as he did. It was not the time to admire the brat's audacity. Or to acknowledge that somehow his touch gave him a chill, pulling him from concept to grounded being. The Throne needed to course correct. The little bitch was somehow drawing out its physical connections to its last host, King. King who had started out submissive to an Orangelo who would become the God of Chaos. The Throne had slowly absorbed that part of King to create the perfect Black Devil.

Professor Damaris also said that every Summoner has a spirit animal who can protect and guide them. The Healing Caste is the sixth caste in the Olympus wherein people like Dr. Foster have the ability to heal and revive someone from death. If not so, others from this caste can create different kinds of potions—good potions to be exact. Professor Damaris didn’t elaborate on it because she said that I’m able to know it soon.

And not just any magic—bloodline magic, the kind that left a mark in the air long after the fire died. Only one clan had ever carried that kind of power. The White Wolves. The Rosewood Clan. Darian Rhadamanthys Draven—Alpha King, ruler of the Obsidian Moon Pack—stood atop the cliffs of the ancient stone circle, overlooking the ruins his ancestors had once sworn to protect. His hands were clenched behind his back, but tension rolled off his shoulders like heat. Someone had invoked old power. Without his permission. Without his knowledge. And worse? They’d done it under his nose.