Day 131 - 7:22 AM - Audubon High School, Audubon, Camden County, New Jersey, United States of America
The night had passed without any noteworthy events aside from a few Mutated Infected that wandered outside the school.
Last night, Mark fell asleep beside Mei's bed. It was after an hour and a half that Mark woke up as he felt that Mei was about to wake up. From there, dinner and other things happened like using the crystals to absorb the Mutations from the heads that Mark stored inside his ring. He wanted to do this as soon as possible. 
It was quite unpleasant to think that severed heads were rolling around the space inside his ring together with the other items. Time was not stopped inside the ring, either. If he left it alone for too long, these things would start to rot. That was why in the span of the night, he was busy collecting the Mutator abilities from the heads of the outlaws and disposed of them using his black fire.
There was the urge to use the crystals he wanted immediately. However, it was not the appropriate time to do so. It was better to do this stuff after they reached the safety of their home.
Now, Mark was preparing for departure, and everyone coming with them was boarding the vehicle. And now, the members of the group were changed almost entirely. Why?
It was because last night, Ottis and the other survivors from Bally's Casino pleaded Mark that they would stay behind. It was not that they did not want to go with Mark as per what they decided before. However, seeing Felicia reunited with her family made them jealous and hopeful. They wanted to stay behind and hope that they could find their families alive and reunite with them.
Mark had no reason not to let them go. In fact, he quite expected this to happen. What he wanted from these people if he brought them to his base was loyalty. That was quite hard to achieve if they now had these kinds of thoughts.
As Mark let them go, the only ones left were those that were sure that they had no family or relatives left. Sandie, Arnold, Ernst, and the three children were the only ones left in the group along with Felicia and her family of five. There was also Hannah, the unconcious Morgan, the female cultivator, and the [Queen Type] with the [Empress Spider] latched on her head. 
While Otis decided to stay, he still served as their driver for the past days. Thus, Mark decided to give him a crystal that he got from one of the outlaws. He also gave one to Captain Morrison as he would need it to protect the people in this settlement.
The two were quite confused as to why Mark was giving them strange jewelry in private. Mark did not bother to explain too much and just said that they needed to swallow the crystals if they wanted to get stronger. Of course, not at the time that he gave them the crystals but after their group left.
Aside from everyone, there was also a new girl. Her name was Mariella Hopkins, and she was following Roan.
Mark had no problems with Mariella joining in. But to say, Roan and Felicia were in kind of similar situation. They definitely were siblings. After all, Roan and Mariella were not in any romantic relationship, even though they liked each other. It was the same with Felicia and Morgan.
Despite his young-looking appearance, Roan was already in the early thirties. Yet, he was single. It was quite surprising since having a good appearance run well in the blood of their family. There must have been dozens of women that would fall in love with him at first sight. However, because of the missing Felicia, Roan became focused on supporting his family instead of having his own. Now that Felicia returned, he might be able to start with the other aspects of his life.
On the other hand, with Ottis gone, Roan replaced him as the driver. Arnold could also drive, but it was a better decision to let Roan, who had better reflexes, to drive the vehicle instead. Of course, if the need came, the two would switch.
There was also a problem that popped out, though. It was quite expected for Mark, and he was not troubled. However, Roan was rather displeased with it. After all, the problem was Elise.
And the problem with her was... She was sticking around Mark like a shy little sister.
Even now that they were about to leave, Elise was behind Mark, grasping the hem of his shirt. And to say, it should be Roan's position.
It was not surprising, though. Elise's memories went back to the time that she was pretty much neglected by everyone. Then, she woke up not remembering what happened to the world. It was like she was transported to an Earth she never knew.
But then, Mark came to calm her. And like when she was with Ellse, the times she could not remember anymore, Elise could not hear the annoying voices when she was around Mark or Mei. It made her comfortable to stay around the two. She even started calling them elder brother and elder sister. That made both Roan and Felicia a bit jealous.
And sometimes when Elise was like this, Mark would smirk at Roan, annoying the guy to the bones.
Since the preparations were done early, it did not take too long before they left.
Not everyone was okay with Mark leaving the school indefinitely. The people that were saved from the outlaws wanted to follow Mark like worshipers. Of course, Mark did not want it. And even if they followed, they would not be of use because of their emaciated bodies. It was better if they stayed behind.
Nevertheless, all the others here in the school were confused. They could not understand why these people were behaving like that towards Mark.
As the gates were opened, the black, armored vehicle rushed out.
The freed prisoners waved to their savior while the soldiers saluted for the things that Mark did for them, especially getting rid of the Outlaws.
The vehicle drove out of sight, leaving those things behind.
***
Inside the vehicle, Mark was skimming through the notes that he asked Captain Morrison. It contained what they knew about Philadelphia after the outbreak. It was not that much and was just ragged information that could fit three pages of a small notebook while loosely written. However, it contained possible routes and dangers that they could possibly encounter.
From Audubon, they had two routes they could take to enter Philidelphia. The first was Walt Whitman Bridge that was a bit closer, while the other was the famous Benjamin Franklin Bridge that was still some ways to the north.
However, both had pros and cons if one wanted to travel through any of these bridges.
The closer and smaller one of the two, the Walt Whitman Bridge, was barricaded by the armed forces of both Pennsylvania and New Jersey. Of course, it was already abandoned by the military. Still, going through it would become a hassle because anyone that wanted to pass through the bridge needed to remove the barricades out of the way first. 
There was also one thing. The abandoned military outpost and barricades on the bridge seemed to have been occupied by an armed group. Since Captain Morrison and his soldiers lacked the equipment to survey the bridge before without getting caught, they refrained from doing it.
Aside from those, however, the route using Walt Whitman Bridge should be safer in the long run. It was because the road connected to it, the Schuylkill Expressway, was a long stretch of road almost entirely isolated away from residential areas using concrete barriers, fences, and flyovers. The number of infected they would likely encounter was smaller. The expressway also travels outside South Philadelphia, away from the center of the city.
On the other hand, Benjamin Franklin Bridge was also subjected to road blockade by the military of both states. However, the barricades had already fallen before it was finished and it as abandoned first compared to the other bridge. The main reason for this was because the bridge led to the center of Philadelphia. Being the main bridge in the city, most people tried to cross it when the outbreak came. And so, the infected followed the evacuation causing its collapse.
That was also where the main problem with this route. It would go through the center of the city, where most of the infected resided. That area was pretty much an uncharted land for the survivors. The route was filled with residential buildings, business establishments, markets, and parks.
In short, it was a very dangerous route.
Just Atlantic City that could not even compare to a fourth of Philadelphia had a [Queen Type], it might be safe to assume that there could be one or two in this place.
"So, Boss, what route will we go?"
Roan asked, turning his head towards Mark, who was sitting behind. He started calling Mark Boss not out of respect but spite. It was quite childish of him, so Mark did not bother to correct it.
"Go to Benjamin Frankin Bridge. We are going across the city."
Mark smiled.
That decision made Abraham and Roan a bit worried. It was a dangerous route, after all. On the other hand, Felicia and the others that knew Mark first could only sigh. They started to have a grasp of Mark's personality. It was expected for him to choose the more dangerous route.
"Don't misunderstand me," Mark spoke as he opened the map application on his phone. "Using the infected as a gauge, the south route should not be any less dangerous compared to the other. Do you know something notable close that route? It is a very large facility that is directly tied to the outbreak."
That question made the people inside the vehicle think. However, none of them were too familiar with Philadelphia, well aside from Abraham, it seemed.
"Are you talking about Philadelphia International Airport?"
Abraham asked.
To that answer, everyone here understood what Mark was talking about.
Airports were directly tied to the outbreak. It was because it all started when the airplanes started crashing, containing its mutated passengers.
And near airports, more of these aircraft could possibly crash.
Compared to the infected that Mutated in the middle of the outbreak, the infected that came from those crashed aircraft were far more threatening.
Four months after the outbreak started, the infected grew in strength as they Mutated. Then what about the Mutated Infected from those crashed aircraft? They could only shiver as they thought about it.
The center of the city might be filled with infected. In the least, encountering an infected that had the strength to flatten an army was far lower.
"Is there anything we should take note of when we enter Philadelphia?"
Roan asked another question. He was the one driving, and it was better if he knew what to watch out for on the road. 
Mark flipped the notes to the last page. There was a list of early mutation types that the military encountered before the radio communications failed.
And to say, while there was the same kind of Mutations that Mark encountered earlier in the outbreak, there were quite many kinds of infected that he had not heard of.
"There's nothing much to take note of," Mark replied. "Most of it is just infected. We can deal with them on the way without problems."
Hearing those confident words, everyone smiled. In the least, everyone here could feel assured in this travel. Almost everyone here already knew how strong Mark and Mei were. Roan and the others here were also Mutators.
If it was any other group, this kind of atmosphere would not appear at all and everyone would travel with their minds on the edge.


It was just a normal morning but it was unknown to many that the apocalypse already started.

The origin was not determined but the infected started to appear after a cosmic event happened just outside of the Earth’s atmosphere.

The people and animals turned into man-eating mutants and zombies while some of the lucky ones gained superhuman abilities. Every living creature that had not "turned" started to evolve as the whole world was affected by the Mutagen.

However, it seemed that Earth also had its hidden side that humans would discover in a very uncanny way.

And was Mutagen the last of it?

Unfortunately, not.

Follow Mark, an Otaku, a Gamer, and a Shut-in that got trapped in the middle of the apocalypse due to an uncanny reason. Using his unconventional thinking, knowledge, and abilities, how far can he go in surviving the apocalypse filled with zombies, mutated beings, and dangerous people as a survivor in a world that was changing for the worse.

Author's Note: Several months ago, I ran a little contest, and the winners are featured in this chapter. They gave me permission to use their contest submissions in this story. The pieces included are "KALI : THE DESTROYER OF EVIL" by Tanya Bose from writing.com and "Magic and Madness" by _Fallxn_ from Wattpad.
Chapter 73: Impromptu Competition Waiting Room
Having thoroughly studied the map in her volunteer packet the night before, Tamara knew exactly where they needed to be and how to get there. She led Joan down wide red brick paths, past pristine lawns with perfectly manicured trees and majestic stone dormitories.
A team of teenagers wearing floppy chicken hats skipped past them. One noticed Joan and stopped, but another teammate grabbed his hand, and they got back to skipping. Apparently they had to get somewhere on time. Joan realized that any delays might cause her to be late as well and picked up her walking pace, smiling to herself and avoiding eye contact with strangers as she and Tamara hurried to a three-story brick building containing a lecture hall and numerous small classrooms.
Joan checked in with the Impromptu Competition captain's assistant and sat next to Tamara. Once everyone had arrived, the captain herself gave everyone a pep talk and a few reminders. Joan had heard most of it before, but this year, a new rule had popped up overnight. "And if anybody mentions the W-word, including team coaches and parents, you tell them to say companion instead. If they persist in using it, assess a one-point unsportsmanlike conduct penalty."
Joan itched to raise her hand and explain that she actually liked the W-word but decided not to push her luck. After all, teams never received a warning before being penalized for an F-bomb or even a minor profanity. Walt himself had probably issued this directive after thorough consideration. Besides, the organization had to maintain certain standards in order to appease sensitive groups of people. While Joan didn't like pandering to certain sensitivities, she knew the organization would do the most good by catering to the broadest audience possible. Besides, her own mother wouldn't have let her compete in Imagination of the Mind if it had a reputation for strong language.
The day started easily enough. The enormous lecture hall served as the waiting room for the Impromptu Competition, and a judge would appear in the doorway every other minute to summon a team. Meanwhile, the Impromptu Competition captain watched the room like a hawk, trading out with her assistant whenever she had to be somewhere else. Tamara busted out her bumblebee song again, and many teams came down to the podium to present their own silly songs, make armpit farts, or burp the alphabet.
One kid stared hard at Joan's nametag before yelling, "I know you! You're Kaiba's whore!"
The entire room went dead silent before Joan replied, "I'm sorry, we don't use that word here. I am Kaiba's companion. Please use companion instead of that word."
"But Kaiba likes that word," the kid said.
"What Kaiba likes doesn't matter here. I want to hear a song or a poem that you like."
"OK!" The kid leapt up and dashed to the podium. "My grandma taught me this one.
"Oh, far across the winds and the distance,
Her voice flows, so persistence,
That it reminds the new of the old,
Of the buried terror that sleeps so bold,
And as the fire flickers with red and green,
Goddess Kali lights up the power e'en.
"But if you feel the aching rush roaring down your veins,
If the world opens its heart to you anew;
Why, then let's rejoice in your pain,
And hear those ancient tales of forgotten blue.
"The story dates back to a hundred thousand years back,
When the lives used to sizzle down the rack.
A place where the serenity overflows the charisma of Mother Earth,
Where the motions of time and love gave a new birth,
The Daughter to Himalaya,
The Daughter to Mahalaya.
"But on the planes beneath;
Where the dark waters guzzled down their throats,
Where the lands were overcast with dirt and heath,
Lived the songs of evil hauling like a coat (Asuras!).
"As Devi Mahatma speaks - like the petals of uncolored dew,
From the forehead of Goddess Durga, as with the frosts that ever flew,
With the anger and vex that heats,
Hidden among the Heaven's beats.
But little did the leaves knew,
What brew in the minds of Evil, dancing with the clue.
"And so the time came,
When the Evil Gods picked up their frozen swords,
With unbeaten hearts that pledge another aim,
And their battle cry of sorrow and destruction filled their cords.
"All the Gods everywhere approached Mother Durga with distress,
I feel like it was only yesterday that they turned up hopeless
And prayed to her in solemn minds with love,
That from her forehead she drew out the beauty of dove,
Scattering them along with the strength of Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva,
And so was Goddess Kali born, Anah!
"A skin as raw as it is black,
Yelling over her naked body of fire,
So cold and hungry her stare that; there's nothing it could lack,
Named her Ambika, the mother of ire.
"And with raged feet, she danced up to the battlefield,
Her burning locks down her temples like fire wields,
And slowly she crept into the darkness her foes had welcomed,
And she just danced and danced;
Till the petals of fire flew around from the scimitar she unbolted
From her bosom to the bosom of the loathed.
"The sharp cut of the weapon invited fear and blood,
As the blood-thirsty Asuras leaped onto her,
But nobody could bear her wrath of flood,
Every time she cried 'Cur'!
"Her fingers soaked in blood and unveiled hatred,
Tongue lolling as she made another attempt so sacred,
And with the sword stung deep into her villain's heart,
She drank blood so contended from her cart,
And raised her vision towards the others,
Who were running after one and the another.
"She and drank and fought,
Dancing and Dancing,
That nothing could have bought,
Her spirits to a calming.
"To stop her overwhelming anger, it called Munda and Chanda's presence,
Soon they returned with a body so bloodless and lifeless,
That the most Brave should behold his courage,
That to this day it scares to encourage,
Earned her the name of Chamunda, dark as ink,
To command the powers within a wink.
"And so her dark body flew along the battlefield,
Crushing everything to pieces,
And while the Gods up at the Heaven healed,
As their anxiety ceases.
"And to this very day, the terror sleeps,
Of the most dangerous war that still weeps,
And let us take vows on her brave name,
The will to battle a billion of a simple dame,
To restore the Heaven's Kingdom back to the Gods,
And so Goddess Kali's name remains engraved in the odds.
"Jai Maa Kali!"
Joan picked her jaw up from the floor. "Now that was amazing. High Five!"
The kid slapped her outstretched palm just as a judge called for their team. They scurried out the door with their teammates. "Bye, whore!" they called over their shoulder.
Joan bit her lip and locked eyes with the Impromptu Competition captain. The captain nodded briefly and left the room to record the W-word penalty on the team's scoresheet.
"As a reminder, please be mindful of your language while you are here. Certain words make some people uncomfortable, and we need everyone to feel safe so you all can do Imagination of the Mind next year," Joan announced. "Now, does anyone have another story or poem about mythology?"
When nobody volunteered to take the podium, Joan busted out "This Land is Your Land" and got most of the kids singing along. The Impromptu Competition captain came back into the room, nodded with approval, and left once again. Relieved that she had earned the captain's trust, Joan continued performing her duties, asking for folklore and legends whenever possible.
Joan heard many thrilling tales of heroes and fables with talking animals. Even though she really wanted more clues on how she could defeat Hera's curse, she thanked every kid who stepped forward to share and told them they did an amazing job.
At last, another kid rewarded Joan's patience with another story of goddesses:
"We hear of winners of battles,
And little of the defeated.
Yet the greatest betrayal in
Millennia is different.
"I was told by my mother,
Who was told by her own
And many before that,
That thousands of years ago
There was an inseparable due.
The Greek Goddess Hecate is the
Victim of this tale, although her
Powers are known through the land.
Lyssa, the Goddess of Rage and Fury
Is the victor in this battle, but
Remains almost unknown.
"The two were close as can be,
And Lyssa could not be more supportive
Of her lover, when she earned
The title, Goddess of Magic.
The unpredictable Lyssa was
Vengeful and ruthless,
And was thought to become the
Goddess of Passion.
She was a powerful entity,
Although untrusted by the almighty.
Could she control
Her anger?
So the almighty waited, hoping
She would prove them wrong.
"However, in many cases,
A true evil occurs.
Some find pleasure in testing
Those with power hidden within.
Those like Lyssa, with
Heightened emotions and
Unexplored power.
Those manipulated by beings
who enjoy chaos and betrayal.
"One such being took Lyssa aside,
Feeding her lies of the one
She truly cared for.
He used that rage burning inside
Her for his own evil.
'It's for her own good.' He would
Whisper, convincing Lyssa
Her lover had turned evil.
"One dreadful day, the battle occurred.
The day Lyssa confronted her lover,
Screaming at her to speak the truth.
But Hecate's truth came too late.
Lyssa was too full of fury.
Full of fear and betrayal.
The pair fought, and as all battles
Throughout history have shown,
There could only be
One winner.
"As the final blow had been struck,
Lyssa looked into the eyes of her
Beloved.
As Hecate's eyes fluttered shut,
Lyssa realised the truth.
Her passion was used against her
And the one who mattered most to her.
As Hecate's last breath escaped her,
An almighty scream
Ripped through the skies.
"It was then that Lyssa won her battle.
A battle fought due to lies and deceit,
A battle which shouldn't have occurred.
A battle which lost her her
Closest companion,
But won her her status,
As those who defeat a Goddess,
Earn the power of those before them.
"Hecate is the one known by all,
But Lyssa is known to those as a
Goddess you must never cross.
The Goddess of Rage,
Frenzy and Rabies.
What the world mistakes for evil,
Few know the truth.
Her anger and power,
Once used against her,
Is now used to punish the bad.
To prove that she is
Not to be messed with.
To seek vengeance
For the one
She was forced to kill."
Joan wished she could stop and think more about what the story meant for her predicament, but she had to keep smiling, to keep welcoming new kids to the podium. After all, this tournament was about them, not her.

When CEO Seto Kaiba propositions Joan, she expects a one-night stand, but he and his brother keep coming back for more. Now the Kaiba brothers want an heir from her and will pay any price to get it. How do Joan’s husband and boyfriend feel about her new profession? More importantly, how do they handle public scrutiny?

The award stickers on this cover are from Wattpad contests. If you would like to see the illustrations for this story, you can find them on the Wattpad version!

Behold I do not give lectures or a little charity. When I give I give myself.- Walt Whitman

-----------------------------

After a few minutes of walking around, I finally heard that impossible to confuse sound. 

'That was a spike.'

Getting closer to the place, I find a volleyball team training. It is quite easy to see they are all very good based on their movements alone. But what I really find amazing of this guys is the look in their eyes. All I see is determination. This is the kind of team that doesn't stop at nothing. 

???: Hey, do you wanna join the team?!

Fynn: Hm? Nope, I was taking a stroll when I heard you guys playing, so I decided to watch until classes are over.

???: So you are skipping the afternoon classes?

Fynn: You could say so, yeah.

???: Hahaha, I used to do the same back in my first year.

Fynn: Funny thing is... I am a third year.

???: How come I don't know you? 

Fynn: I transferred in last week.

Bokuto: I see! My name is Bokuto! I am the captain of the team!

Fynn: Cool man! I'm Fynn, I got here around two weeks ago from Ireland.

???: Bokuto, you should be warming up right now.

Bokuto: Hehe, ok Daichi.

Fynn: Mind if I join for a while?

Bokuto: But you said you weren't joining the team!

Fynn: And I am not. I am only helping you warm up, since I can see you guys are missing one.

Daichi: Hmm... I would be grateful. You only need to stand in your assigned place if you don't know how to play.

Fynn: Worry about the new guys, I can handle myself.

Daichi: If you say so. 

-After practice-

Fynn: Well, that wasn't all that bad.

Daichi: Dude, how are you not even sweating?

Fynn: I just... have a lot of stamina.

???: Here. 

There stood, in all her glory, the one and only. Shimizu Kiyoko, manager of the volleyball club, offering me a bottle of water. I always felt a lot of respect for her, since she is such a dedicated girl. 

Fynn: Hm? Oh thank you...

Kiyoko: Shimizu Kiyoko. I am the manager.

Fynn: It is my pleasure to meet you. Well, I am Kobayashi Fynn, but please call me Fynn. Hmm... sorry for intruding, but you look very athletic. Perhaps you practiced any sport?

Kiyoko: Oh, uh, yes... athleticism with obstacles...

Fynn: Hmm, I see, pretty cool if I say so myself. Is that the reason you wear high-knee socks?

Kiyoko: Huh?!

Fynn: Sorry, I am very sorry! I shouldn't have asked that!

Kiyoko: No, no, don't worry. It's fine...

Fynn: Still, I'm sorry, that is not a question to ask a lady. Well, it would seem as if I have to leave. Pleasure meeting you guys! Hey Daichi, if you wanna gain some stamina, you can call me! I'm in third year classroom A!


-Kiyoko's POV-

He noticed I used to play a sport. Nobody ever notices. I just hope I wasn't very awkward. Gosh he even knew it was the reason I use high-knee socks. I reacted like such a dork! But I was so embarrassed. Noone ever notices those things! And it also means he know about the sport, if not he wouldn't know about the cuts and bruises. 

He was also... so handsome. He looked very manly. Maybe... I'll talk to him again. 

'Now that I think about it, he seems familiar...'

-Next morning-

As always, I woke up being the human pillow. By now, I don't even feel bothered by it, but it makes me feel slightly happy instead. 

Fynn: Alright! Time to get up sleepyheads!

Reine: Hummm... good morn... *yawn*

Fynn: You"re so cuuute

Reine: Hehe, thank you dear~

Kaguya: No fair! I want a compliment too

Fynn: Fufu, you all look cute in your own ways.

Serafall: Fy-chan is too nice to leave anyone out!

Yuzuru: Confirmation... That is a part of his good characteristics.

Mio: Yes! Fynn is the best!

Fynn: Stop! Geez you all are gonna make me blush.

After giving everyone a good morning kiss, we had breakfast, again prepared by Grayfia and left for school together. On our way I had a bad feeling pestering me, but since I can't do anything about it if I don't know what provokes it, I decided to ignore it for now.

Around fifteen minutes later we had arrived at school, and what greeted me was Daichi running from the school grounds with worry written on his face.

Fynn: Daichi! What happened?!

Daichi: It's Shimizu-san! She has been kidnapped by the new teacher! She told us to call for you!

As soon as I heard that my aura flared outwards in anger. I was so angry that even the girls, with he exception of Mio, were sweating from my presence. 

Fynn: I see... so that goddess decided to do it this way. Ereshkigal, I am sorry but... your sister is going to pay for this. 

Then, to everyone's surprise, Ereshkigal emerged from my shadow. From her presence the girls could tell she was on my level of power. Only Mio could stand by our side without flinching, and that was because she got the blessing from the system. 

Ereshkigal: I don't mind. But how are you going to deal with the mortals who see your powers? 

Fynn: Sera, would you mind erasing everyone's memories of this? Please exclude Daichi, I trust him enough for some reason. 

[Mission 03: Goddess' Love

Ishtar kidnapped Shimizu Kiyoko as a way to pick the Host's attention. Rescue Kiyoko and teach Ishtar how be a good girl.

Rewards: 3x Random Reward Boxes - 15x Songs - 1x Skill Slot

Extra: Earn Kiyoko's affection - Zinogre Growth Pill
Earn Daichi's respect - Choose added skill
Earn Ishtar's unconditional loyalty - Choose a pet for Mio]

'You were taking your time in appearing... By the way, skill slot?'

[Ever since Host activated his first Social Event, Host may earn the chance to add new skills to his repertoire through missions.]

'That is cool actually. And earning a Divine cloth? System you really do better every time with the rewards.'

[Thank you, Host]

Fynn: Ok! Everyone let's go.

Daichi: Where to?

Fynn: To save Kiyoko of course. 

Then, without minding Daichi, I threw him over my shoulder and moves as fast as I could to Ishtar's location. 

'What a funny place to stay in...'

Ishtar was staying in an abandoned shrine by the side of the lake that is behind Aomizumi Academy. The fact that this shrine was so full of gold and jewelry shows just how much of an egocentric and eccentric person Ishtar is. Just unbearably annoying and capricious. And now she is going to get a spanking.

Ishtar: So you finally came...

Kiyoko: Fynn-kun?! Why did you come?!

Fynn: Shh, everything is going to be alright Kiyoko. Do you trust me?

Ishtar: Fine? Hahah...

Fynn: Shut up. I am talking to Kiyoko.

Kiyoko: I... I trust you!

Fynn: Good. Wait for me here, ok everyone?

Reine: We will, dear.

Fynn: Now to deal with you... 

I then released the full brunt of my powers. Summoning my armor, I dashed at full speed towards Ishtar. I guess she wasn't expecting me to attack her like this, since I was able to catch her by the face and move away from the shrine. 

Ihstar: Let me... go!

Fynn: So feisty... but you know... you made me angry. Now its time for punishment.

Ishtar: As if a mortal were to...

Fynn: Shut up and get into fighting. If you don't... you will be hurt.

Ishtar: ... You aren't joking right?

Fynn: No. This time... I am truly angry.

Ishtar's and my aura clashed. The atmosphere grew tense and the wind got turbulent. The clouds turned dark and lightning began to fall. A battle of gods was bound to happen, and the earth was setting the stage for it.

-----------------------------------

So... is this considered a cliff-hanger?

By the way, I decided to introduce Saint Seiya's Divine Cloths as the armors from now own, since they are more easy to identify than the ones I have been using till now.

As always, all support is appreciated. I want to gove special thanks to ZirNavy for the amount of power stones he gifts me.

See ya'll soon

PD: I just changed the extra rewards. No God cloths, because they don't look as cool as I thought.

Fynn Kobayashi used to be a noble boy. He had a soft-spot for helping people in need or jumping to action to save someone from a crime. 
One day he saw a little girl crossing the street while her mother talked to someone over the phone. When he heard the trucks claxon, he jumped straight to the girl and pushed her. Unluckily. he got hit. But what destiny awaits a kid with such a good karma? 

-------------------------------------------------

I write this story because I love reading those huge crossovers between many animes. I am going to use my own set-up for it, but the characters are going to be the same... mostly.

Eyes glued on a glass pane overlooking a jungle of concrete, where in its darkest nights still bear sounds and sights so loud it kept you awake, there I was, lying on my back. I had my phone tucked in my pocket while I lay on the edge of a window, looking down on the vast night landscape. This was the metropolis of Ophrus, the busy capital of the nation where I'd lived 18 years. My name was Ped, and I was a college student in the district's best school, and while I wasn't the brightest of the bunch, I at least considered myself to be one of the cool ones on campus.

All these people, I'd think, lead such different lives with different families they'd go home to, a personal daily routine that I'd never understand, and they'd look up into the sky with a different sort of glisten in their eyes. It was something I could never fathom. 

Crossing the streets, honking in cars, I almost felt like we were just living on a giant ant farm. These "ants" were working collaboratively, with each having such a specific and unique contribution to the farm. It was something I'd also think about every time I lie by that window. Every "ant" had a destination in mind, all unbeknownst to the rest, and with every step they strode towards a place that would lead them to new people and new scenarios. Such a complex community, a network of minds, that existed so dearly and fragile in this city, was I even part of it at all?

I closed my eyes and fell asleep.



-----

The crisp morning air filled my lungs as I stood on the station platform. The looming, cloudy sky washed everyone a shade of grey, as folk from all sorts of their own stories came together this morning and joined our stories as one, all awaiting the next train to arrive. I looked around, and saw a shadow in the distant rails, growing in size as it came closer to the station. "The train is now approaching," a monotone voice boomed over the speakers. "please step away from the edge of the platform." With carefree steps, I entered the train and sat on an empty seat, between two men who smelt of cheap drugstore cologne. 



In the gentle cradle-like movements of the train, I took my book I didn't bother reading the night before out and started to flip the pages, garnering the attention of a nearby man. As I looked up to meet his eyes, I found that he was, too, holding the same book in his hands. Walt Whitman.  Nice taste, I said to myself, before burying myself deep into the book's pages. From time to time I'd sneak a peek to examine the man. He looked like a mix between Chinese and Latino, having fine brown complexion. He also had short black hair and a cute stubble surrounding his strong jawline. A smart-looking white shirt covered his toned body, while his biceps were barely contained by the short sleeves. You could tell he went to the gym regularly, and he definitely did not miss arm day. At all. I couldn't help stealing glances at that handsome statue of a man. Though his appearance was buff and ripped, seeing him read Walt Whitman made him look profoundly intellectual and almost even hotter than he already was. As I sensed his eyes move, I naturally lead mine back into the fine print on my book. The train then went from station to station, district to district, and soon stopped at the heart of the city. Had he not stood up, I wouldn't have noticed that the train had arrived my destination. 



I soon found out he was also walking towards the same school I was heading for, much to my surprise. Was he a new teacher, or was he a student, though he looked awfully old to be a student, I thought as I pinned him down with my stare while he was walking in front of me in the day-lit street.

He seemed to have noticed my stare, and spared no time in turning around the next time I shot him a glance.
"Hey," he spoke with an accent.
I jumped back in shock at his casual greeting.
"I reckon you're a college student here, right? We seem to be walking in the same direction."
"Yes, I am. And you…?" I raised my eyebrow and waited for his reply.
He chuckled. "I know I might look a bit young, and that's because I am. I'm a new English professor here. You can call me Mr. Brad Mateo. What's your name, buddy?"
"Oh I'm Ped!"
With a cheery smile, he reached his hand out for a handshake.

Disclaimer: this novel is very gay and NSFW

Gay college student Ped Luca falls in love with a young professor Brad and tries to maintain a discrete relationship in campus, while his friends Nathan and Antonia help them cover up.

Volume 1: After a fateful encounter one morning, Ped goes on a series of dates with his new professor Brad that are filled with steamy moments and situations.

Volume 2: Ped and his new professor boyfriend Brad spend their first summer together as a couple, meeting new people and trying new things along the way.

Volume 3: As Ped’s third year of college begins, he tries to find balance in his relationships with Brad and Nathan while he is offered an interesting side-job.

Amidst the sailors and crewmen working the various radio equipment, stood a lone figure, illuminated by the beams of holographic light, clad in a long, flowing blue dress, and a porcelain mask, covered by a veil, was the mastermind behind Saber Company.
The Mannequin.
"This is the driver of the last tank in my company, Captain?" the silvery voice from the hologram echoed through the room. The Captain himself nodded silently as the white mask turned its gaze toward me. 
"Speak, child. What is your name, then?" Even without eyes, the blank stare froze me in place for a moment. I took one good look at the Mannequin and cleared my throat.
- "Funnily enough, it's Driver...that was the only name I was ever given by the orphanage where I grew up."
The figure laughed, bringing a hand to her motionless mouth as she recovered from the humor that was my name.
"Ideal, and quite fitting...I take it you were from one of the many orphanages we liberated in Montana some years ago...You may not remember it, but I remember you now...A shame the matrons gave you such a rough name...would you prefer if I bestowed something else for you?"
- "Another name?" I asked, sheepishly. "I've only ever known this one...and it fits, Ma'am...Maybe when I leave this line of work...I'll give myself another name."
"If that be your wish..." Her honeyed words were strangely, comforting now. She seemed fully focused on me as she continued. "The reason I brought you here was to commend your fine work today. You should've heard the commotion from the Captain when he 
heard you were out there fixing that tank in the middle of a firefight...But that is neither here, nor there...I know not what to give you in exchange for your valor today, but rest assured, consider what you would want from me...and I will do everything 
within my power to make it so." 
Her holographic hand reached out to touch my shoulder. The sudden warmth from the laser projection almost felt real as she crouched a bit to look me directly in the eyes, and for a moment, I swore I could see the face suddenly smiling at me.
-"I...I have a few questions, Mannequin," I finally said as she tilted her head somewhat, curious as to what my request was.
"And what might that be, 'Driver'?"
- "I'd like to see what you look like without that mask...?" I queried. She brought a gloved hand to her chin, and stroked it thoughtfully.
"What good would seeing my face do you? I'm just as flesh and blood as you are...I was once in your shoes, young driver...those days were the happiest in my life...and the most dangerous...The mask itself is not just for show...but it is a life-support system I designed myself...frankly, everything you have aboard your tank, and this vessel, are of my design. Salvages from an older time. That tank of yours was regarded as the top of it's class. Sadly, it is all I can do- plan and develop blueprints...did you happen to have another question...or perhaps, a request I can fulfill that won't kill me in the process?"
I stood there, thinking through the thousands of questions I had, before asking another.
"What was life like before DyNaCo?" To this, the Mannequin chuckled and gave a slight nod.
- "You'd be surprised how often I give an answer to this question...Before DyNaCo, there was...America. It was a place of growth, of change, of desire. Young, passionate citizens carried their ideals on their sleeve...that is, until the recent century-The world used to be connected. Economies, markets, everything. Full to the brim with free-thought, free expression. True ideals of enlightenment were exercised on a frequent and daily basis..."
The faceless figure then reached up to her veil and pulled it up.
"...And then the markets collapsed. What took years to build in centuries was gone in the span of a decade. The world descended into hell. Millions of lives, forfeit to those willing to exploit the weak and ignorant; tribalism encouraged groups to prey on each other; When that wasn't enough, the nations declared war for resources. America was lucky- So many natural resources to be found in the soil beneath the many metropolises, that we carried on, fighting off whatever nation decided to attempt an incursion..."
Listening, I watched her become slightly animated, her voice stiffening up as if she were repressing a difficult memory.
"When the people finally gave up on their governments, it was the corporations that filled the gap. They gave people work. They paid them in favors, at first. Then as those corporations grew larger, one was large enough to begin controlling the market. When
the smaller companies protested, they sent out militia loyal to them. This was the first iteration of the PMCs...and the wars that began from those events have lasted until today. In the Americas, DyNaCo became the primary caretaker of the millions and millions of citizens the government failed..."
She paused, and turned away from my face. It appeared she had been interrupted. Turning quickly towards me, she gave a slight shrug
"I apologize. I wish I could tell you more, but I must go- CEO Barstow has arrived, and I must entertain my guest. I'm sure you understand, Driver. Should you live long enough, I may give you more of what you seek. Truth." 
With that, the connection was cut, leaving me in a now empty communication room.
"I still had more questions," I mused, slightly frustrated.
 Another time, perhaps.
[2 Weeks later]
 A few weeks of sailing, and we were back home, DyNaCo's ports were bustling with new life, joyous prosperity, and teeming with mercantile ambition.
 As we got off the boat, we took in the first real breaths of home into our lungs, our duffle bags hanging loosely by our fingertips as we felt the weight of what we had done came swinging in like a ton of bricks. Looking at the news ticker just down the port along the Massachusetts Bay, it claimed we were successful in negotiating the surrender of the Samsonians...
But we killed all of them.
Success it seemed, was measured in kill count, rather than a fulfilled contract, at least comparatively to the citizens of New Boston- but it was irrelevant; the people were consumed with themselves like they always had been. Eyes rarely ventured to the giant holographic neon screen describing the scene in the contention zone, the announcer's voice blanketing the sounds of the harbor as our cargo ship was unloaded with the dock equipment.
Even out of sight of the news ticker, the same broadcast repeated itself across countless storefronts and billboards for the transportation system. Every radio, television, taxi topper- nothing was safe from the inundation of the news: DyNaCo successfully negotiated their contract.
 What utter shit.
The four of us didn't trouble ourselves with the goings on of the world. We were still on contract time. A company car arrived shortly after we disembarked, and the Chauffeur got out to greet us.
 "A warm DyNaCo welcome to you gentlemen. I hope Europe was full of adventure for you."
 -"Yeah, forty dead comrades makes for great fun," Whitman grumbled as he shoved his duffle into the backseat, before entering himself, followed by the rest of us quietly contemplating what was next. "Just shut up and drive us to DyNaCo. Barstow wants to see us."
 It seemed we rode in that oversized SUV for hours, crawling through miles of traffic and fathoms of high-rise, glass-paned skyscrapers as we eventually made our way to the business district. The sun seemed hidden behind the shadows of the high rises as neon lights began to flicker to life, washing everything in a sea of technicolor. People reverted to their true forms- silhouettes- shadows of what they appeared to be. I scoffed it off as something cynical, but in the back of my mind, I felt it was more true than I would have liked to believe.
 Approaching the mirrored glass of the DyNaCo building, I could finally see my reflection in for the first time in 4 months. It was funny. The scrawniest, youngest idiot in this crew- was me. I could see my youth contrasted with the grim dispositions of Whitman, Sanders and Martinez. 
 It had been this way, every day, for months. A few more cup sizes on my chest and i'd be a literal short stack. I took another moment to imagine what could've been, before I was tapped on the shoulder by Sanders. 
"No time like the present. C'mon, kid."
 As we walked through the revolving doorway, we were come upon by the brilliance of the interior of the DyNaCo building. Bright television screens depicting the accomplishments of everything the corporation had accomplished, similar to what had been accomplished in the old order, before things went to hell. In the middle of the atrium stood a marble statue of what could only be a barely clothed male, a spear in one hand, and an ornate helmet in the other, the tip of his spear pointing to some distant area beyond this realm. Behind it resided the elevator that would take us to Barstow's office.
 We stumbled off the elevator, and walked through the long hallway, through the oak door to Barstow's office, we filed in quietly, Sanders closing the door behind us. There, sitting at his desk was Deke Barstow, with the Mannequin standing beside him in all her regalia, porcelain mask included. The dark void that made her eyes seemed to pierce through all of us as Barstow reached into his desk and retrieved a small manila envelope.
 "You gentlemen performed well in the contested zone...Given the circumstances. I've had a few analysts provide me with information regarding the situation with Crazy-Horse and KWP."
 - "You want the short story? We lost a lot of men," Sanders grumbled, much to the visual chagrin of the DyNaCo CEO.
 "Listen, I know Europe was a tough assignment-" 
 - "Understatement of the year."
 "But I need you to understand...DyNaCo's in a fight for its survival."
 Barstow. The arrogant bastard he was, knew our contract was nearing its completion with him, and if word got out that he had thrown in an entire company of mercenaries, let alone three of them, and only have one tank survive- it was bad for business ventures in the future, and we were standing with a sour taste of blood in our mouth.
 "KPW's violated the Chicago Treaty," He said, finally dropping the act. "They want to convene in South Africa- Cape Town. I need you for VIP duty."
 Now, Whitman was pissed. His long legs strode 10 feet across that red satin carpet in less than a second, placing his weathered, oil-stained hands on the mirror-like varnish of the table Barstow sat behind. Whitman's face turned red like a tomato, making his wispy, blond hair appear near-white as he pressed his hands firmly into the wood, his blue eyes narrowed at the visage of the chiseled jawline and deep-set brown eyes of the DyNaCo CEO.
 "You're real cold-blooded, you know that? Weeks of field work, years of friendships, gone in a matter of minutes, but as long as the big bossman gets his affairs in order, all is right with the world, is that what I'm hearing?!"
 Martinez, knowing better than I that Whitman was about to take a swing at our walking payroll, rushed up and threw his arms under Whitman, gripping the back of his leather jacket in a sloppy Full-Nelson, pulling him back, just as my cherry-faced tank commander attempted to swing.
"You motherfucker!" Whitman blurted out as Martinez wrestled him to the ground. Sanders, not wanting any business to deal with Whitman, or Barstow, had wandered off to gaze at one of the many paintings lining the walls of the office, leaving me alone to speak with Barstow and The Mannequin, while the two most senior men continued struggling on the carpet.
 This time, The Mannequin decided to play peacemaker, having seen enough. Her voice was just as heated as Whitman's voice, but the manner in which she spoke, and her movements as she walked closer to Barstow to push the manila envelope towards me, showed that she was in far better control of her emotions than anyone else in the room.
 "Saber, Barstow and I have come to the consensus that this next job will be our last. Neither side wants a war, so we're going to Cape Town, and we will hold a cordon zone with Rhodes Group around the Ysterplaat Aerodome. Barstow meets with the KPW CEOs, and they'll come out with an agreement, we get our pay, and we leave. Simple. The payout is much larger than our regular transaction fee- due to our good history together and the untimely loss of our other assets. We. Are. Taking. This. Job. So for now, Go back to the boat, get some rest, we will be setting sail in seventy-two hours."
 By this point, the struggling behind me had stopped, as Martinez had soothed Whitman's dander, giving him a brotherly hug, telling him "Basta, Calmense." Meanwhile, Sanders had found his way back to my side, his expression tired, but eager to finish this contract. 
 "One more, Mannequin," He said gruffly. "Then I'm done with the whole lot of you. I'm going back home to Michigan."
 -"Back to Dafter, I presume? To the ranch?"
 "Yes ma'am. I'll have enough to sit easy, and as far as I'm concerned, that means I don't have to take any more blood money."
 -"I can only imagine you'll be a shining example to your community. Now, if you're finished, the clock is ticking. On the desk are your passports. I'll speak with you again when you've arrived at Cape Town."
 Just like that. Back to business, it seemed.

A tank crew bonds and tries to survive during a war between two mega-corporations in the future.

There were several dozen types of secret techniques under the Martial Prohibition, some stronger and others weaker, but most of the martial artists had memorized all of them, since these things could be traded for Immortal Palace Secret Techniques. Everyone wanted a secret technique that was most suited to them, but it was always difficult for martial artists to find a secret technique that fit them well, and the secret technique offered by the Immortal Palace were extremely numerous, so they would definitely find the one they wanted there.
Lindsay was completely panicked and lost, she was only a twelve-year-old child after all, she might have been at the top of her age group, but when faced with an actual military punk with a gun at his waist, her heart was instantly confused.
"I… I…" She stuttered, at first she wanted to say some tough words, but she just could not form them. The more she could not speak, the more panicked she got, and so she was even more tongue-tied.
"Heh." The man with the cold gaze laughed coldly, and came up to her.
"Master Zhao, why are you still joking around with a child? I know this child as well, she’s the Ocean Alliance boss’ daughter, we’ll inevitably meet each other all the time, so please be patient if there were any misunderstandings or if she was rude in any way." A jolly short and fat man walked out of the riotous crowd, his face all smiles as he greeted the other two with one hand over the other fist. "How about I treat you two sirs to a few drinks at Jade Garden?"
"Fat Lan, you stay out of this matter." The cold-eyed military punk Zhao pushed the fatty away, and walked straight up to Lindsay. "Pretty bold of you, to secretly learn a demonic secret technique under Prohibition!"
Before he finished speaking, he made to grab Lindsay.
Smack!
Lindsay instinctively kicked him, blowing his hand away.
"Oh-ho, you still dare to resist!" The military punk Zhao was instantly furious, and kicked towards Lindsay hard, his foundations were naturally much stronger than the girl’s, plus he was also an expert at kicking, so he instantly calculated a few ways she could dodge, his right leg kicking forth at a strange angle.
"Master Zhao, please let her go!""Master Zhao, she’s just a child!"
Seeing that he was actually attacking her, some of the familiar faces in the crowd instantly reacted, they were all Captain Whitman’s close friends, so there was no way they could just stand by and watch their niece get bullied.
In this chaotic world, most of the people on the jetty were huddled into groups, even if normal people did not go against officials, but they still took pride in justice, and could not help but stand up to stop him.
Bam!
Lindsay was kicked hard in the stomach, and she fell forward onto the ground, in too much pain to get up.
The two men who had pounced out beside her were also kicked far away by the military punk Zhao, and stumbled before they finally steadied their footing, but their faces were pale and they could not catch their breath for a while.
"Serves you right for goddamn interfering with me! Go ahead, block me! Block! Go on blocking!!" The military punk Zhao seemed to have been provoked somewhere else, and was now taking all of his anger out on Lindsay.
He kicked Lindsay’s waist again and again, sending her rolling back and forth as though she were a toy.
The people around them were riotous in the beginning, but they began to fall silent afterward, just standing around and watching him kick her. The few who were brave enough to stand out had been settled by this man in a few hits, and still had not recovered.
"Stop!!" There was an explosive yell from nearby.
The military punk Zhao’s expression grew cold, and he stomped on Lindsay’s head even harder.
Of course he would not kill her, he still wanted to give her to the Immortal Palace in exchange for a secret technique, but it was more interesting to destroy this girl’s face than it was to kill her.
He had gotten used to dominating the streets, and did not think he would nearly be humiliated by this young thing today, plus he had just taken a harsh scolding from his senior officer, so his heart was burning with rage. When he hit her, he immediately started putting more force into it.
Garen walked over to them with Whitman, and just glanced at Lindsay, who was lying on the floor, as well the pale children beside them, sensing that Lindsay was in no great danger. He then immediately moved his gaze to the two military punks.
The situation around them was similar to that of the Huaxia period in China on Earth(1), the crowd gathered around to witness the spectacle were completely numb and expressionless.
But for some reason, when he and Captain Whitman walked over, the gazes of everyone around them were instantly dyed with a hint of respect, including those two military punks.
After some careful observation, he noticed that their fear and respect was not aimed at Whitman, but him.
To be more precise, it was aimed at his shining long golden hair.
Garen had just asked Whitman about the situation here on the East Continent, and the information he got was that it was similar to the Republican era(2).
The place had been split up by regional warlords, as soon as the feudal dynasty collapsed, the foreign allied armies had divided up the profits on the East Continent, and there were settlements from other countries everywhere, becoming an eternal trauma in the hearts of Oriental scholars.
The war from a few years ago and the debts they accumulated had utterly shattered the East Continent’s dream of becoming the strongest country in the world, and had also torn away the veil of mystery and mythic respect that the foreign countries had historically had for the East Continent. They were hit as soon as they went down, the East Continent armies with the soldiers on horseback and their sand cannons were basically weak as lambs in the face of the foreign gunpowder cannons.
After they terribly lost several patriotic wats, the blatant conflicts and division of territories began.
The Yalu Confederation, Weisman, Tulip, and some other middle- or even small-scale countries.
Each of them supported their own representatives and ambitious leaders, doing their best to grab as much profit and supplies as they could by politically manipulating the area.
That was also when Whitman’s family had gone onto the ocean and contacted foreign merchants, doing their business in trade. As locals from the East Continent, they had made contact with many foreigners over the years, and this did improve their standing somewhat. But all that was not as shocking as an actual foreign friend.
Foreigners always looked down on the East Continent, especially ones from the strong countries. For Whitman abruptly brought a young blonde man here, it truly shocked everyone and left a huge impact.
Such pure golden hair could only be found in some of the strongest countries on the other end of the sea. Such as Weisman, such as Tulip, such as the Yalu Confederation…
Those were the three strongest countries…
The military punk Zhao did indeed pull back a little, and looking at the little girl on the floor, he noticed that blood was leaking out the corner of her mouth. Evidently, this was getting complicated.
But even if there was a foreigner here, he still did not want to let go of his long-awaited dream, to get a secret technique that truly suited him. His dream of many years could finally be fulfilled, such an intense temptation rapidly forced down his urge to run away.
"It is a serious crime to secretly learn a Prohibited secret technique! This is the Prohibition from the Immortal Palace, a law supported by the Weisman authorities, you would know that as well, right, sir?" The military punk Zhao thought hard, and forcefully found a wordy excuse for himself. It was just that he was using the local language of the East Continent, so he had no idea if the other party could understand him.
Garen smiled slightly, revealing a mouthful of pearly whites. Beside him, Captain Whitman was prepared to translate for him.
But it was not as though he had done nothing over these past few days on the boat, so as soon as he spoke, it was in fluent East Continent language.
"Prohibition? The Immortal Palace’s Prohibition? What is that? Could you explain it to me?"
"Uh…" The man Zhao hesitated.
"I was the one who taught her the martial arts, do you have any opinion about that?" Garen immediately declared that he was the one who taught Lindsay.
He did not care about any Martial Prohibition, or any warlordism, as the terrifying ruthless killer from the Black Swamp Palace, a legend even in the Totem World, that was even more so in this Secret Technique World with its lower combat level.
Be it the Immortal Palace, or the Demon Gate, if they got in his way, then they had better be prepared to pay in blood.
He was not one of those old-fashioned justice warriors, in order to achieve his own goals, although he was not completely immoral, it was still only natural that he would choose the most effective way to solve a problem.
He stood here and traded useless words with these two, just to express two things.
One, the Whitman family was not extremely close to him, as proven by the question he did not care about Lindsay who was lying on the ground. That was also to prevent that family from getting too involved with his problems.
Two, Garen still thought it was necessary to bequeath a dead person with a few words.
The man named Zhao was already feeling something ominous, his right hand reaching for the gun behind his waist.
But all of a sudden, his whole body gave a jolt, his movements stiff and unable to move. It was not just him, the other man beside him who had come with him had also stiffened, and could not even speak, even his expression did not change. But he could see the same terror and fear in the other person's eyes.
They could not move at all!
It was as though all the blood in his body would not listen to him.
Demonic arts!! This was demonic arts!!!
No wonder the Immortal Palace declared the Prohibition, such a terrifying martial arts… It was like there was an avalanche in Zhao’s heart, his wariness from before collapsing instantly in the face of extreme terror.
Garen smiled at him slightly.
"What a coincidence, I was just looking for you, come with me. Let's discuss this properly."
He said a few words to Whitman softly, and led the way directly to a small teahouse outside the crowd. The two military punks followed him quickly, not saying a thing.
"Alright, break it up, everybody, break it up!!" Behind him, Whitman’s subordinate was yelling, and only then did Whitman wipe the sweat off his head, carrying the unconscious Lindsay off to find a doctor.
**************
The three of them sat down on the second floor of the teahouse, taking Garen's favorite position closest to the window, and nobody dared to take any of the three places around them, the owner forced a smile as he served them a pot of high-quality tea, and then hurriedly rushed downstairs, too afraid to say anything more.
Garen very naturally controlled the blood inside their bodies, taking away their wallets, opening it up and counting the money inside. There were only seven or eight pieces of silver inside, as well as some scattered copper coins, he wondered how much that would buy.
He put them all into one pouch and kept it carefully, tying it to his waist, and then Garen smiled at the two of them.
"Don't be scared, you will always come across some obstacles in life, this is just a small trial in your lives."
He slowly released the control he had over their faces.
The military punk named Zhao opposite him had a smile that looked worse than if he cried. He was already a hundred percent sure that he had bumped into a person from the Demon Gate that truly hated the Immortal Palace, or perhaps even a demonic martial artist who was wanted by both sides!
"My lord, please tell me if there's anything you need, we will definitely tell you anything we know, everything we can!"
"Is that so?" Garen smiled slightly.
"Then, please tell me everything about the Martial Prohibition…" The smile on his face grew deeper and deeper.
They dare to declare a Martial Prohibition, prohibiting the White Cloud Gate’s martial arts…
Hahaha… Immortal Palace, how dare you!
Translator’s notes:
A late Neolithic period in ancient Chinese history.
From 1912, after the fall of the Qing Dynasty, to 1949 in China.


One moment, Luo Jing was at the brink of death after accidentally touching a power outlet while showering. The next, he was in the body of a man named Garen, with memories of a past he was never a part of flowing into his head. As he slowly gets used to the body of Garen, he begins to explore a planet beyond his own logical comprehension. His journey will see him go from surviving in a planet locked in the 20th century, to wielding secret techniques so powerful that they level cities overnight. However, his journey doesn’t end with Garen. Instead this is but the first of many bodies that Luo Jing will come to wield in his mystical journey between worlds.

~Some Short  Hot Scenes~
1.  Fingersmith by Sarah Waters

"That's what I thought. I thought I must show her how to do it, or her fear would spoil our plot. So kissed her again. They I touched her.
 I touched her face. I began at the meeting of our mouths—at the soft wet corners of our lips—then found her jaw, her cheeks, her brow—I had touched her before, to wash and dress her, but never like this. So smooth she was! So warm! 
It was like I was calling the heat and shape of her out of the darkness—as if the darkness was turning solid and growing quick, under my hand."
~It starts with an innocent kiss, but it gets much sweeter (and hotter) from there. The rush of abandonment, impropriety, and deceit are all too much. ~
***
2.  Night Secrets by Kat Martin

"With his hands and his mouth, he caressed her, his fingers moving down her body, pausing for a moment at her navel, then sliding lower.
 They sifted through the thatch of copper curls at the base of her thighs, gently eased her legs apart, slipped between the damp folds of her sex, and a long dark finger slid inside her."
***
3.  The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks

"The world seemed dreamlike as she pulled back from him, the firelight setting her face aglow. Without speaking, she started to undo the button on his shirt. He watched her as she made her way downward. 
With each button he could feel her fingers brushing against his skin, and she smiled softly at him when she finally finished [...] She felt short of breath as he lowered his head and kissed between her breasts and slowly ran his tongue up her neck. 
His hands gently caressed her back, her arms, her shoulders, and she felt their heated bodies press together, skin to skin."
***
4. The Snow Queen by Michael Cunningham

"He moves in on her. It happens more quickly than usual; there's no gesture of seduction, however brief. He is at one moment looking into her face, helpless and imploring, and at the next, he's pressing his lips to hers, as if her mouth were an oxygen mask [...] Tyler gets up onto his knees, pulls his jeans and boxers down.
 His hard-on pops. Liz kicks off her boots,pulls her own jeans and thong off, shimmies them down to her ankles and thrashed them away, spreads her legs around Tyler's hips. Tyler gets only the briefest look at her crotch—the trimmed line of her dark pubic hair, the robust pink of her labia—before pushing back down onto her."
***
5. Burn by Maya Banks

"There would be plenty of time to exert his dominance, to have her submit in all manner of ways. Today was about their first time together and establishing trust. It was about him taking care of her needs. 
Pleasuring her [...] He leaned down, pressing his mouth between her breasts. She arched into him, seeing more of his mouth. So he gave her more, kissing a line down to her belly. A soft moan escaped and her stomach clenched and quivered beneath his mouth."
***

6. Voyager by Diana Gabaldon

"He drew me gently in, to stand between his knees as he sat on the bed. Then he kisssed me softly, once on each breast, and laid his head between them, his breath coming warm on my bare skin [...] I wanted him, all right; my breasts ached and my belly was tight with it, the unaccustomed rush of arousal slippery between my legs, opening me for him. 
But as strong as lust, was the desire to simply be taken, to have him master me, quell my doubts in a moment of rough usage,take me hard and swiftly enough to make me forget myself."
***

7.  High school sweethearts reunite after years apart in "Americanah" by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
High School Sweethearts from Lagos, Nigeria, Ifemelu and Obinze reunite after years apart. Obinze has since married another woman since their youthful courtship, but the connection between them is long-lasting and the two can't resist falling back into their comfortable, electric attraction.


"There was, between them, a weightless, seamless desire. She leaned in and kissed him, and at first he was slow in his response, and then he was pulling up her blouse, pushing down her bra cups to free her breasts.
 She remembered clearly the firmness of his embrace, and yet there was, also, a newness to their union; their bodies remembered and did not remember. 
She touched the scar on his chest, remembering it again. She had always thought the expression 'making love' a little maudlin; 'having sex' felt truer and 'fucking' was more arousing, but lying next to him afterwards, both of them smiling, sometimes laughing, her body suffused with peace, she thought how apt it was, that expression 'making love.'
 There was an awakening even in her nails, in those parts of her body that had always been numb. She wanted to tell him, 'There is no week that passed that I did not think of you.' But was that true? Of course there were weeks during which he was folded under layers of her life, but it felt true
***
8. Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman

"Or, if you will, thrusting me beneath your clothing,Where I may feel the throbs of your heart, or rest upon your hip,Carry me when you go forth over land or sea;For thus, merely touching you, is enough—is best,And thus, touching you, would I silently sleep and be carried eternally."

~Walt Whitman is one of the many writers who proves that poetry can be a turn on. And you told your English teacher it was stupid... :D
***

"They began to make love against the library shelves which creaked with their movement. It is common enough at such times to fantasize arriving in a remote high place. 

He imagined himself strolling on a smooth, rounded mountain summit, suspended between two higher peaks.
 
He was in an unhurried, reconnoitering mood, with time to go to a rocky edge and take a glimpse of the near-vertical scree down which he would shortly have to thrown himself.

 It was a temptation to leap into clear space now, but he was a man of the world and he could walk away and wait. It was not easy, for he was being drawn back and he had to resist ... She was calling to him, inviting him, murmuring in his ear. Exactly so.
 
They would jump together. He was with her now, peering into an abyss, and they saw how the scree plunged down through the cloud. Hand in hand, they would fall backward."

Here are many Hottest Sex Scenes from Books, Because Words Can Turn You On Too

Just read the first couple of excerpts in this book and you’ll find steamy, romantic, arousing sex writing. Writing that doesn’t make you cringe from bad prose. Writing that offers a number of pleasures to be had — psychological, word-play, beautiful descriptions. These are some damn fine love scenes in books.

 Please know that I tried my best to choose racy novel excerpts that illustrated a wide range of human sexuality. If I did not happen to hit upon your specific form of sexual entertainment, I humbly apologize in advance (but seriously — there must be something here that entertains you).

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Sex Scenes : Words Can Turn You On Too (Hot and Incredible)

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