Oblivion The Path Of The Righteous の小説・ストーリー

“You always seem to forget your place.” Delia stood unfazed. If anything, her smirk widened. “Better a servant that everyone loves,” she countered, “than a bastard son no one even talks about.” Ethan’s face flushed red. The transformation was fascinating. Kallista wasn’t sure if it was shame, anger, or a mix of both, but the tension between them was thick. “One day,” he sneered, stepping closer, “you will learn your place beneath me.” “Until then,” Delia said in a sickly sweet voice, “you’re still insignificant. And a dirty little secret.”

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.

"This part talks about the others. The things that came before angels and demons. It calls them 'the Dreaming Wounds.' Entities that were never supposed to wake." Lucian's spine straightened. "And one of them?" "Here." She tapped the page. A single word etched in jagged red ink: Nihareth. Lucian tasted the name in the back of his throat, like blood. Kairis turned another page, revealing an inked drawing: a crude sketch of a burning city, and a tall figure with hollow eyes standing amidst the flames. The glyph for Oblivion was scrawled above it. "The book says Nihareth was the last of the Wounds to fall asleep. He walked through the outer gates when the world was still forming. They say his b

★𝕽𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖓 Every step across the frozen lake was a defiance. The enemy's illusions intensified with each agonizing foot forward, twisting the world around us. Liam and Elias fought their own battles against phantom horrors, their faces contorted with strain, but they held fast, relying on Olivia's shimmering elemental path and my Alpha commands to anchor them. But my focus was solely on Olivia. Her form, silhouetted against the malevolent glow of the corrupted Heartstone, shimmered with the pure elemental energy she channeled.

But I knew what I was fighting for. Not revenge. Not glory. Not destiny. I was fighting for every smile shared at Willowbrook Academy. For every kingdom we had saved. For every friend standing beside me. For every child who deserved to see tomorrow. Erevan slowly lifted the Blade of Oblivion. Darkness gathered around him until entire galaxies vanished within its shadow. "Come," he said quietly. "Show me the answer Solarius searched for... but never found." Without another word, Wesley and I charged. Our wings of silver and gold spread wide behind us.

“Tony Russo was stabbed more than a dozen times by enemies while begging on the streets yesterday. He’s dead.” I glanced at the photo, unmoved. “And the old men?” “All accounts have been consolidated. The entire East Coast’s underground business is now under your control. Your new investments are also outperforming traditional operations.” I walked to the floor‑to‑ceiling window and looked down at the sleepless city. In my previous life, I was trampled at the bottom. However, in this one, I stood at the very peak. I lowered my gaze to the ouroboros ring on my finger, then touched the iris birthmark at my collarbone.

The big, brutish man stands at the same height as me, but his bulky form is for show so it is ebay for my leaner muscular body to drag his naked bulk out to the front of the packhouse, the silver I have bound him with doesn't affect me thanks to my vampire father (wolfsbane does but only to some extent). My men are waiting for me. David is the most injured with a broken arm, but the rest are mostly unharmed. The new guy probably had gone for the old man who actually had some skill. “All Wintertail warriors are disposed of, sir” Ian salutes me, I hate when the fucker does that but he is one fucking hell of an elite warrior who could take on three wolves of equal size to himself easily. The fu

I chuckled. "It's a free show. You're only seeing live what you watch on your phones anyway. And don't lie and say you don't," Tyce taunted us. We all laughed, immediately groaning from the pain it caused. "Blake, Alexander, Tyson, I owe all of you," Alpha Antoine spoke in his French Canadian accent. "Both Lune Nordique and Bois Sombre are at your disposal. Any time you need help, our warriors are yours." "That's all we ask," Alex responded. "You can never have too many friends when it comes to war."

It was tied to this place, to the Underworld. “I have to try again,” Ava said, her voice stronger this time. Hayden opened his mouth to protest, but Ava didn’t wait. She placed her hands back on the altar, bracing herself for the surge of energy. It came again, more powerful this time, but she didn’t pull away. She let it flow through her, grounding herself in the connection. Slowly, the carvings on the altar began to shift, glowing with an eerie light. The air around them crackled with energy as the seal on the ancient text began to break.

- I know very well where my loyalty lies. - Good then, come, and I will forget about this insubordination. But just this time. - Mother glanced at her, but Megan did not budge. - I am where I should be. A few gasps could be heard behind the Mother's back. - What did you say? - The highest witch asked, taken aback by this unexpected turn of events. Megan raised her head and repeated loudly. - We are in the right place. Those are people we are loyal to.