The Art of Chaotic Divinity - Chapter 898: Heaven-Shaking Force

Cassian Ven Dyke, the bastard son of a powerful ducal family, grew up in the slums of Veldora under the care of his father figure, sword master Russel. When Russel passed away, Cassian was left with only a silver necklace as his inheritance. After putting it on, Cassian was attacked by three psychotic thugs who tortured him in an attempt to steal the necklace. Refusing to give in, Cassian was ultimately stabbed through the heart with the very same necklace. Instead of dying, he mysteriously vanished as the necklace lodged itself in his heart. Just before disappearing, he heard an eerie message echo in his mind:[True mana detected. Origin: Human...][Human detected. Compatibility with system: Confirmed.]

Sirens: a name derived from an ancient creature, used to describe those who could charm, lure, control, and heal others by singing.

Subjected to live the life of a siren, Aria had experienced, seen, and heard many horrific things. Broken beyond repair, Aria resigned herself to death, when suddenly…

The Grand Duke, Lloyd Cardence Valentine, arrived and whispered, “Should I kill everyone here?”

“If you need me, just call me. Your song will always reach me, wherever you are.”

In the end, Aria called the devil, bringing death to all those present, along with herself.

“Let’s fall down to hell together.”

And with that, Aria breathed her last and died… only to return to her 10-year-old self.

Now that she had a second chance at her life, Aria was determined to change her fate, as well as the cruel fate of her saviour, Grand Duke Valentine.

And so… Aria proposed to him with a marriage contract.

She sold her soul to the devil and vowed to protect him.

The young duke took the contract from her hand.

“So, where should I stamp the seal?”

* * *

“You said you’d divorce me within 10 years.”

The grown-up villain leaned in, hovering his head before he kissed her tenderly over her crown.

“Now that we’re adults, we should sign another contract.”

“I know exactly who you are,” he murmured, his voice a low growl as he pressed me against the cold stone wall. His body caged mine, heat radiating from him like a wildfire waiting to consume.I lifted my chin, ignoring the way my pulse betrayed me. “Then you know why I’m here.”His lips brushed dangerously close to my ear, not touching—just enough to make my breath hitch. “Do you?” His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down my arm, stopping just before my bound wrists. “Because you don’t look like a hunter right now.”I swallowed hard. “And you don’t look like a monster.”He chuckled, dark and amused. “Oh, little hunter, you have no idea”. In a world where humans and werewolves are sworn enemies, fate weaves a different tale.Violet, the daughter of James—descended from a long line of legendary werewolf hunters—has spent her life preparing for one mission: to kill Alpha Zain, the feared Demon Alpha. To prove herself worthy, she must bring his head as a trophy. But when she finally faces him, destiny shatters everything she’s ever known.While her sisters, April and Jade, eagerly await news of her death, Violet finds herself entangled in a fate far more dangerous than she imagined. Because the greatest threat isn’t the battle between hunters and werewolves—it’s the bond that should have never existed.

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.”