[DING!]
[Congratulations, APOLLYON. You have unlocked the Infernal System!]
[NAME: Israfel BlüdThïrste.]
[FACTION: DEMON ¢ RANK A.]

[DING!]
[You have ascended to the realms of man.]
[CITY: The medieval Empire of Eldoria.]
[ALL HAIL THE BURNING ONE!]
[CONQUEST: Level Up to NINTH INFERNAL CIRCLE.]
[The battle for DOMINION begins.]
[SYSTEM has graciously provided the most delicious and bosomy babes to compete for MC.]

[ADDITIONAL TAGS: Ruthless MC – NSFW – BDSM – Cosplay – MILF – War Crimes – Unholy Trinities – Hybrids – BDE – Smut – EVOLUTION – Succubus – Slaves – Yandere – Ascension – Gore – ADULT CONTENT AND LANGUAGE – Anal – Dominant MC – Hentai – Lust – Demon – Extreme violence – R18 – Faceslap – Fistfights – Bestiality – Bloodsport – Exorcism – LOLITA – Brutal MC – Magic – UNDERWORLD – Politics – Demonology – Necromancer – Old Gods – Fae – Sword and Sorcery – System – Hardcore – Mermaid – Cat girls – Dragon girls – DARK – Vulgar – Epic battle – Hell Ranking – Fallen Angels – DOMINIONS – Incest – Dungeon – Leveling up – Cold MC – Sibling Lust – Taboo sex stories – MONSTER GIRLS – Debauchery – Utter fuckery – Demented SC – MANA – Invulnerable MC – Elf – Vampire – Demoness – MATURE – Murder – Psychopaths – Luciferan Bloodlines – Corruption of virtue – Chivalry – Villainy – Death – LEGION – Clashing armies – Weapons system – Resurrection.]

[WARNING: This book features detailed descriptions of female humiliation, hardcore sex and depravity. There is a guaranteed Adult Chapter one out of every five. NOT FOR CHILDREN! NOT FOR SOFT HEARTS!]

• FULL BLURB
Israfel BlüdThïrste was born in Hel. He has lived in it all eighteen years of his life. As seventh in the bloodline of the Morningstar himself, Rafel has had a pretty fucking great life. There's spilled blood in excess. Violence to choke the gray skies. Abundant sex—depraved and hardcore. And more blood. Everything a Prince of the Abyss could desire. But Rafel has heard stories, of the world above. The world of the weak mortals whose damned souls fall endlessly through the red skies of his, to meet with perpetual torture. Stories of their fine carriages and legendary kings. Their golden sun and green earth. But mostly, their virgin women. He wishes to see it for himself. And so, when a lucky gambit with his dear Aunt, Lilith, opens up a way for him to explore the surface, Rafel hops to it.
The deal is a hundred years before he has to return to his duties as Hell's Apollyon.
Accompanied by his new slave, a voluptuous horned Succubus, Rafel journeys to the mortal realm, entering into the mythical lands of Eldoria as the enigmatic Earl of Emberfall, a haunted estate. But Rafel intends to rise, into the very courts of the Eldorian Queen. At least before his time runs out. And if corrupting, blackmailing, fucking, and murdering a few mortals gets in his way, so be it.
This is until the haloed mess of Ravenna de Vries ends up on the grand steps of his Manor, soaking wet with a blood debt hanging over her head. Israfel had seen many beautiful women in his time, but somehow the little mortal girl is sufficient to make him rethink his gambit.
Ravenna is owed to a powerful Hell Principality. And though Rafel convinces himself that building up his power ranking is solely selfish, it also has to do with going up against an ancient adversary from his home who is certain to appear just about anytime to collect what he is owed—Ravenna.
She is not his responsibility, but why does Rafel feel exactly that whenever he looks at her? And suddenly for this Immortal, a hundred years is not enough to fall in love.

• 10 DAYS LATER, LAT. 6°N OF THE COLD SEA.


"WHERE THE SHIT is my shitting shirt?!"


This loud cussing broke through a high redwood Cabin on the middle deck of a mighty sailing ship. Despite the winds being on their best today, the atmosphere was still cold as a siren's fucking kiss and sleeping mists rolled over the blue sea, whispering on and about the large vessel like frozen ghosts of drowned pirates. Skeleton faces in the fog.


Another bassy yowling slithered on the cold winds—from the redwood cabin again. The few crew on the frigate's vast deck peered down the steps at the gingered boarding room and at each other. "That wild Sergeant, is it?" One man said, shawled in fat sweaters and a necktie. He stood by the strong roping of the immaculate masts. "Why can't that man be like the rest of the passengers, eh? Cozy and unbothered indoors, sleeping off the cold. We still got a'ways to go. I tell ya, he is damn crazy. The pretty ones always are."


Chapter 345 - Weeping Well Cove