[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.

"So, do I get a chance to speak with the Orishas?" Israfel leaned to whisper in Ursula's ear. "I do not know how you all do things here in the West but in the fae Capital, we have Confessors; and you and I both know, Your Excellency, I have a lot to confess of. I would very much like private time with your veiled priestesses." He did well to hide the mischief in his gold eyes as he ended with a sly purse of his lips and sweet sin in his lopsided grin.


Ursula blushed though she wasn't looking in his direction. Her own serpent gaze was turned to the wood dais where the Patchwork Man had just met certain death from the Guillotine's slash; the headless nude body—so awkward in its multitude of misfit limbs and discolored skin patches—slowly slid to the raised execution stand.


The people were still cheering and waving high hands. The Republic hadn't seen a public display this good in three hundred years.


Chapter 315 - One Shot of Brandy [18+]