Primordial Chaos Dragon Tower: Harem System - Chapter 116: Black Dahlia Inn

The dead cannot speak.

It means the living can create any story they want.

Inheritance, honor and wealth can be taken away by lies.

However, what happens when a person, who was presumed to be dead, returns alive?

Time is an illusion, and reality is a fragile thread in Kael's fractured world.Kael's life is defined by darkness, memories that flicker in and out like glitching shadows. Struggling with haunting nightmares and terrifying hallucinations, he finds himself trapped in a reality that doesn’t make sense—a reality where time is breaking, and nothing is as it seems.When a mysterious red notebook, filled with cryptic symbols, falls into his hands, it opens a gateway to a world where the laws of time no longer apply. Every hour, every minute, every second twists and warps, and Kael begins to realize that something—or someone—is manipulating time itself, pushing him to the edge of his sanity.But he's not alone. A girl, whose existence is as twisted as the world around them, seems to be connected to his suffering. Kael's bond with her grows as they both search for the truth behind their disturbing experiences, yet the more they uncover, the deeper they fall into an abyss of despair and madness.The Pulse, an unfathomable force that distorts time and reality, pulses through their very existence. As Kael inches closer to the truth, he faces a devastating choice—one that could either save them or shatter everything they hold dear.Time is collapsing, the Pulse is awakening, and Kael must confront the horrors lurking in the fractured timeline before it consumes them all.

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.

“Aria,” he said softly. “Today is your birthday.”It wasn't a question, but I nodded nevertheless.“The moon is full tonight,” he added, his voice quiet. “You will attend the ceremony.”“Of course, Elder,” I replied, puzzled. All eighteen-year-olds attended the ceremony. It was essential.He leaned in, smelling gently. “You already feel it, don't you? ”The change.My heartbeat skipped. “What change?”Elder Malin's eyes narrowed. Interesting. “Very interesting.” He reached inside his pocket and retrieved a little pouch. “Wear this tonight.”I accepted it hesitantly. Inside was a simple moonstone pendant with a leather cord.“But this is for—”“Wear it,” he interjected. “Hide it under your clothes if you must, but wear it.”Moonstones were precious. They aided our connection to the Moon Goddess during ceremonies. However, they were only given to wolves from influential families (Alphas and Betas). Not Omegas like me.“Why?” I questioned.Elder Malin glanced at Mira before returning his attention to me. “Because someone is harboring secrets about you, child. And tonight, those secrets may be revealed.”I never mattered in our pack. Omegas like me serve, submit, and survive. We don't dream of love. We don't dream of power.She was the future Luna. I was just the girl who watched from the shadows.But everything changed on my 18th birthday.I felt the bond. I met my mate.One of the Alpha's sons.But the Alpha has triplets, and I felt the mate bond with all three and it seems the three of them felt it too — three perfect warriors, three powerful Alphas, three secrets buried beneath the surface.One of them is my destiny.One of them is lying.And one of them might be the death of me.The Moon Goddess doesn't make mistakes... but this time, I think she might've given me too much to handle.