Oxathen
1 Published Story
You might like
Tundra Survival: While Others Freeze, I'm Building a Base
Qijia Lady When the global countdown hit zero, humanity was instantly teleported into a brutal, frozen wasteland.
The system's rule was absolute: keep your campfire burning, or be permanently erased from existence.
While others arrived in thin pajamas to freeze in the sub-zero wind, I had spent my final hours on Earth preparing, bringing a full survival pack and a cordless chainsaw.
By unlocking a hidden inventory system, I endured back-breaking labor to chop down ancient pines, hoarding over a hundred units of life-saving wood.
But when I offered to trade my surplus for coal and blueprints, the public chat completely turned on me.
"You selfish monster! You're hoarding resources while people are dying!"
They cursed me as a ruthless pariah, demanding I hand over my hard-earned fuel for free to save strangers who hadn't prepared at all.
I watched the survivor count plummet from a thousand to barely three hundred in just four days, listening to the agonizing screams echoing across the ice.
I couldn't understand why they felt entitled to the results of my blood and exhaustion, expecting my compassion to warm them while I froze.
With the inhuman howls from the dark forest growing louder, any lingering sympathy in me completely died.
I calmly blocked the public channel, tossed another piece of coal into my roaring fire, and opened my private messages to build my own fortress. The Last Call: From Star to Scapegoat
Zhi Yao My life was a blueprint for success.
Ethan Miller, a rising star in architecture, about to claim the American Horizon Architectural Prize, surrounded by my loving sister Ashley, my beautiful fiancée Victoria, and even my adopted brother Jason.
But one call, one dark warehouse, shattered it all.
Ambushed, my hands crushed, my career obliterated, I woke to a nightmare.
My own sister and fiancée, the women I trusted most, confessed to orchestrating the brutal attack to clear the path for Jason’s success.
They abandoned me in an earthquake, then left me for dead on an exploding yacht, all while publicly slandering my name to cover their tracks.
The betrayal was a pain far deeper than any broken bone, a horrifying injustice that twisted my soul.
Why them? Why Jason? Why this absolute destruction of my life?
But just as despair threatened to consume me, a mysterious offer emerged: "reforging" through Phoenix BioGenesis.
I accepted, not for healing, but for a chilling rebirth, returning as a ghost of my former self, a silent observer ready to meticulously dismantle the lives of those who thought they had won.
This time, the masterpiece would be my revenge. Betrayal's Echo: A Wife's Revenge
Huang Xiaohuai Dr. Evelyn Reed had finally done it.
Three years of relentless work, the neural interface cure for her paralyzed husband, Ethan, was a success.
A triumphant smile touched her lips as she reached for her phone to share the life-changing news.
But an email caught her eye, a cheerful invitation that turned her world to ice.
"Dr. Ethan Vance and Miss Tiffany Reed request the pleasure of your company at the celebration of their marriage."
Ethan. Her husband. Tiffany. Her own niece.
It was a sick joke, a complete error, yet the high-end Parisian wedding agency confirmed its legitimacy.
Her joy evaporated, replaced by a cold dread as she drove through the night, a ghost to a celebration she was never meant to see.
She saw him there, standing, whole, laughing, with Tiffany tucked into his arm, radiant in white.
He kissed her, a tender kiss meant for the world to see, and Evelyn' s world tilted off its axis.
Then she heard them talking, overheard their cruel confessions: he had always loved Tiffany, while Evelyn was merely "a necessary step," "a convenient solution."
The man she had sacrificed everything for, the man who had promised his undying love, had been betraying her for two years with her own blood.
The pain of betrayal, the hollowness of her sacrifice, the absolute injustice of it all, left her hollowed out, empty of tears.
She watched him walk away from her in the hospital, choosing Tiffany, right after a fire, right after she found out a bomb, orchestrated by Tiffany, nearly killed her.
This wasn't a love triangle; it was a war, and she was losing.
Driven by a quiet, ice-cold resolve, Evelyn began to fight back. Stolen Code, Broken Heart, Fierce Comeback
Gu Mumu The flickering TV in my dingy motel room was the only light, illuminating the peeling wallpaper.
On screen, Ethan Vance, my ex-fiancé, smiled his perfect, camera-ready smile, touting 'EvolveAI' and his "future-defining" Prometheus algorithm.
Reporters swarmed him; he was the king of Silicon Valley, the brilliant mind behind the world' s most advanced AI.
My world. My code. My future. He had stolen it all. Everything.
I remembered the day he left, his eyes cold and empty, my three years of coding on a hard drive in his bag, a venomous "You were always just… holding me back."
He didn't just take the code; he took my savings, my reputation, blacklisting me from an industry I helped build, all while Bethany Cole, my best friend, stood arm-in-arm with him, eyes gleaming with triumph.
They left me with nothing but eviction notices, forcing me to sell everything I owned, living as a ghost under pseudonyms, cleaning up security flaws for companies that would never hire Scarlett Hayes.
The pain of that betrayal was a constant, suffocating darkness, a deep pit I couldn' t climb out of, trapped by unseen enemies and their whispers of my failure.
But watching him on that screen, basking in my stolen glory, a cold, sharp rage began to burn through the despair.
In that cheap motel, I swore a vow: I would get justice, I would take back what was mine, and he would not build his empire on my ruins.
My chance came weeks later: a vulnerability in his IPO network led me to a familiar digital signature-a back door I'd built into 'Prometheus,' a failsafe only I knew. He was arrogant, so certain he' d erased me he never looked for the ghost I' d left behind.
He was on the verge of becoming a billionaire. And I had the key to his kingdom.
A slow smile spread across my face. The game wasn't over. It had just begun. I wasn't going to be a victim. I was the storm he never saw coming. I would let him climb to the peak of his triumph. And then, I would burn it all to the ground. Lost Time, Found Love: Ava’s Return
Rum Runner The first thing I felt was the slow, steady beep of a machine.
I opened my eyes to a sterile white ceiling, definitely not my bedroom.
A nurse rushed in, dropping her clipboard, whispering, "She' s awake!"
Then a doctor: "Mrs. Hayes? Ava? Can you tell me your name?"
"Ava Reed... Ava Hayes."
"And the year?"
"2023. It' s October."
Their pitying looks made my skin crawl. "Ava," the doctor said gently, "It' s not 2023."
He pointed to a digital screen: July 12, 2038.
Fifteen years. Gone. Just like that.
The car crash that felt like yesterday had apparently happened a decade and a half ago.
My Lily, my four-year-old daughter, would be nineteen.
My husband, Ethan…
I called him, desperate, finding his contact on a sleek, alien device.
A voice answered, but it wasn' t his. It was cold, hollow.
"Who is this?"
"Ethan? It' s me. It' s Ava."
Then, a harsh, bitter laugh. "My wife is dead. She died fifteen years ago. Don' t you dare use her name again."
He was about to hang up.
"The scar!" I screamed, "Under your left rib, from Miller' s Peak! And Lily… she called her bear 'Sir Reginald Fluffen-Bottom' !"
Silence on the line. Then a whisper: "How… how do you know that?"
Who was this stranger on the phone? What had happened to my life, my family?
I was Ava Reed, a woman robbed of fifteen years.
"Because I am your wife, you idiot. Oceanville General, Room 304. Ten minutes."
I hung up, a cold, hard knot forming in my stomach.
Ethan never showed. Instead, a slick lawyer offered me a hotel, a car, a credit card.
I took the car.
My daughter. Lily. Two Years, A Cosmic Lie
Tamarah Lupton I poured every spare dollar from my part-time jobs and scholarships into a scuffed-up piggy bank, dreaming of a future with Chloe and a promise ring that would seal our love. But then I heard her laugh-a laugh that wasn't for me.
Just an hour after I ended things, saying "We're over," my best friend, Liam, walked up, clueless as ever, showing off an expensive watch Chloe had helped him pick out, a watch that screamed what a joke my cheap promise ring was.
I ducked into a stairwell, my heart pounding, and pulled out my phone. In our shared photo album, I found a selfie of Chloe and her friends at a fancy rooftop bar. Zooming in, I saw it-my piggy bank, next to a bottle of champagne, being used as an ashtray. The memory hit me: overhearing Chloe brag to her friends about using me as "A tool, a pawn to make Liam finally notice me," all while calling me "a little charity case" and "so boring."
My world shattered. Two years, all a lie, a game where I was just a prop in her drama with Liam. The cheap daisies I held for her surprise visit were crushed in my hand, my stomach churning with nausea.
I spent the night walking, my mind a blank, howling void. The pain solidified into a cold, hard resolve: I had to disappear.
Five years of isolation. No friends. No family. No Chloe. To me, it sounded less like a punishment and more like a rescue. I went to see Professor Davies and signed up for the Ares Project.