Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse

Death has a mate - a teenage girl, the Grim Reaper's Bride. All Callie has known is that someone watches her in the woods - Samael, the Grim Reaper. Drawn into his intoxicating web of desires, secrets, and shadows, and hating him with a burning passion - can these two unlikely heroes stop the Apocalypse? Or will Samael start it for love?

After failing the mission, the System gave me one final chance, and to succeed, I had to give birth to a child. The System promised that if the baby were born safely, it would reveal the truth to my target and give me one last glimmer of hope. However, six months into my pregnancy, just when things seemed stable, I was dragged onto an operating table in the middle of the night by my husband and family. My husband stopped the anesthesiologist from giving me any pain relief. “Let her feel the pain,” he said coldly. “We need to keep the kidneys as fresh as possible.” My parents instructed the doctor to draw my blood. “She’s the same blood type as our precious girl. Let’s take some for backup.” Even my childhood friend, the boy who had always been by my side, was the one to slice open my abdomen.  They wanted my kidneys to save my sister, who was dying from kidney failure. No one believed I was pregnant. No matter how much I begged, they went ahead with the operation, tearing me open. The baby couldn’t survive, and I died on that operating table. However, as my soul began to fade away, something strange happened. Those who had murdered me—my husband, my parents, my so-called friend—they all lost their minds.

I'm diagnosed with late-stage cancer after undergoing a pre-employment medical checkup. My husband says the medication for my condition is expensive. He also says it can only relieve my pain, not treat the cause. I only have a year to live. Upon my husband's pleading, I agree to do an IVF. I endure the pain and put myself through torture to leave him with a child. However, I overhear him saying the child growing inside me isn't mine—it's his and his lover's. He's the one who wants me dead!

The night before my wedding, my mom got into a car accident—she needed a blood transfusion, fast. Her blood type was rare. Mine matched. I was pregnant, but I didn't think twice. I donated. While I was bleeding out, losing my baby, my fiancé, Joffrey Habsburg, and his brother—my so-called childhood friend—Mateo, were busy holding Nancy's hand during her cosmetic surgery. I begged Joffrey to save my mom. Only then did he bother to pick up a scalpel. When it was over, he said, "Surgery failed. She's gone." Two days later, I overheard Nancy purring through the door, wrapped around the Habsburg brothers. "Mateo really is a racer—he hit that old hag dead on. And Joffrey? You were amazing too, making sure she didn't survive the surgery. Thanks to you both, I got Lori's blood for my operation."

In the year 2020, the world faced Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome Coronavirus 2, and took several years to slowly recover from its immense effect. Thirty years after, another virus rose and affected the world's population in just a few weeks. The health workers couldn't determine what exactly the virus is, its type, and the way it is being passed from person to person despite the advanced and improved technology. Because of this and the sudden virus outbreak, the World Health Organization assigned Richforte Medical Team for a research mission for the virus and find a cure for it as soon as possible. Would they be able to accomplish this mission if, in the next few hours, the world would have what they called Zombie Apocalypse?

On our wedding anniversary, my husband has his intern put on the custom-made wedding gown he prepared for me. "You wouldn't have looked good in a wedding gown with your baby bump, anyway. She's saving us trouble by wearing the gown for you. Think about how kind she is!" Before I can rebuke him, an earthquake happens. I lose my balance and fall to the floor. Instantly, I feel moisture on my legs. At the same time, my husband received a call from his intern. "There are so many frogs here, Mr. Quinn. I'm so scared…" My husband turns to leave, but I grab his pant leg. "Ethan, I—" "It's just a minor earthquake—the ground barely even shook. Don't make a mountain out of a molehill. Didn't you hear Chloe crying because she was so scared? Can't you be sympathetic?" He ignores the blood pooling around me and hurries off to comfort Chloe Bennett. That night, they share a passionate kiss under a sky full of fireworks. Meanwhile, my child dies in my belly. It's a pretty good way to end things. Someone like Ethan Quinn doesn't deserve to have his own children.

My husband's childhood friend says she wants her crystal beads to soak up some of the good luck in our home. Because of that, he scatters the beads on the floor, making me slip and miscarry. I'm in agony as I lie on the operating table. I call my husband incessantly, but all he does is block my number. I lie in the hospital ward after the operation. I see my husband's childhood friend's social media update—a photo of him worshipfully holding out a certificate while getting down on one knee. It's captioned, "He loves me so much! I said I'm interested in running a business and he actually set up a company for me!" On the day of the branch company's grand opening, my husband's childhood friend wears an expensive custom-made gown. Meanwhile, I wear her discarded goods. I'm barred from even entering the building. I suppress my bitterness and call my lawyer. "Are the divorce procedures done?"

On New Year's Eve, my husband, Max Davis, took me to a private dinner hosted by a big industry player. We had barely made our way around the room when a strange woman suddenly shoved me into the pool. When I insisted on checking the surveillance footage and calling the police, Max firmly held me back. He warned me to "remember my place" and not embarrass him in front of everyone. In the brief time I changed into another gown, I returned to find that same woman perched on my husband's lap, her red lipstick leaving traces on his collar. "Max, you're right! That nasty scar on her stomach really does look like a centipede. It's so hideous!" She giggled with mock innocence, adding, "It's been so fun messing with your wife. Next time, can I slap her when no one's looking?" Meanwhile, Max gazed at her like she was the only woman in the world, gently tracing his finger over her nose. "Of course, you can," he replied, eyes still locked on hers. "I'll even tie her hands behind her back for you."

Humanity died, and she was the last of them. Zarah Winters was on the verge of death after killing the sixth prince of hell. The seventh prince, a cunning and deceitful individual, did not want her to die because it would deprive him of his source of entertainment — her. Verphegor, as the demon introduced himself, offered her a deal. He would send her back to the past, where she could keep all her memories of this time and use them to change the future. Zarah comes from a line of hunters. Hunters have a variety of abilities that aid them in combating demons. Zarah had no idea she had a talent in her past, which caused her to drop out of the academy. During the apocalypse, however, she discovers that she is a siphon, a person who steals the strength and abilities of demons in exchange for killing them. With that kind of power laying dormant and with growing potential, she agreed to gamble on the demon’s offer. But with Verphegor being a prince of Hell, can she really trust the prince? Moreover, upon learning of her powers at an early stage, can she use them for humanity’s advantage?

In my previous life, I was born at the stroke of a cold, pitch-black midnight on New Year's Day, an omen the old town whispered about. They called me a Deathbringer's child, destined to guide the souls of the stillborn to rest. From the age of six, I carried small coffins alone to the graveyard by the church, burying them in silence. Each time, when I reached into the velvet shroud that wrapped the tiny casket, I would find a golden coin resting inside. My mother sold those coins for money, buying my brother a grand mansion, while leaving me behind in the crumbling family house to keep doing the work. No one expected the world of Haunts to descend. However, those coins turned out to be tokens of command, keys that bound the Haunts of the apocalypse to my will. With them, I became the Empress of the End, feared by all, ruling with every resource at my command.