Bound To The Exiled S-Class Monster

A sharp pain shot through Halie's body, forcing her awake. Every muscle screamed in protest as she tried to sit up, a gasp tearing from her throat. She fell back against the pillows, the sheets a tangled mess around her.

Her vision was a blur. The dim light of the bedroom did little to help, but as her eyes adjusted, she saw it. A single, silver feather resting on the pillow beside her.

A fragmented image flashed through her mind-piercing red eyes and a cascade of silver hair. The lingering trace of an unfamiliar spiritual power felt like a blade slicing through her brain.

CRACK.

The bedroom's heavy mahogany doors were kicked open with brutal force. The sound shattered the silence, echoing off the walls.

Seraphina Avila sauntered in, her expensive heels clicking arrogantly on the floor. Her makeup was perfect, a stark contrast to the venom in her eyes.

Jett Mercer followed close behind. His gaze swept over Halie's pathetic state, and he didn't bother to hide his disgust.

"Look at the disgrace of the Avila family," Seraphina sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. "Fallen all the way to D-Class. What a waste." She flicked her wrist, and a silver-framed hand mirror flew through the air, aimed straight at the bed.

Halie's hand shot out, snatching the mirror from the air. The impact sent a jolt of pain up her arm, but it was nothing compared to the sight that greeted her. The face in the mirror was her own, but it was covered in a terrifying web of scars.

A flood of memories-not hers, but the original owner's-crashed into her. The despair of being framed, of her face being ruined. Halie's mind finally aligned with her new, tragic reality.

A heavy silence settled over her as the sheer weight of the original owner's despair threatened to pull her under.

So this is it, she thought, the gears of her brilliant scientist mind beginning to turn. A ruined face, a treacherous family, and a world that wants me dead. A pathetic end for her, but a fascinating starting point for me.

In this interstellar beast-world, females were the absolute dominant gender, revered for their rare and vital spiritual power.

A female's psychic energy could soothe the violent rampages that plagued every male, making her the cornerstone of survival and civilization.

Because females were born at a fraction of the rate of males, high-ranking females were priceless treasures, with the law and society built entirely around their supremacy. A single female was entitled-often expected-to bond with multiple males, forming a matriarchal household where her word was absolute.

Males, regardless of their own class, existed to serve, protect, and compete for a female's favor; their status depended entirely on being chosen.

To be discarded by a female, or to be bound to a weak one, was a male's deepest shame. This was a world of female rule and male submission, and even a ruined D-Class female still held the innate right to command.

If they think I'll just sit here and rot, they are severely mistaken.

Jett let out a sigh, a pathetic attempt at sympathy. "I'm sorry, Halie," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "But I can't be tied to a cripple. As an S-Class, I have to break our engagement."

A cold laugh escaped Halie's lips. She ignored the screaming pain in her bones and threw back the covers. Her bare feet hit the cold carpet, and the air around her seemed to drop several degrees.

Seraphina's face twisted in fury. How dare this waste ignore her? She strode forward, her hand raised, ready to slap the insolence out of Halie's face.

But the slap never landed.

Halie's hand shot up, catching Seraphina's wrist in a grip of steel. The faint sound of grinding bone was followed by Seraphina's pained shriek.

Without a moment's hesitation, Halie twisted her arm and delivered a resounding slap of her own. The force of the blow sent Seraphina's perfectly styled hair into disarray.

"You bitch!" Jett roared, a weak pulse of spiritual pressure emanating from him as he lunged forward to protect his new prize.

Halie felt the crushing weight of his S-Class pressure trying to force her to her knees. But her mind, forged in the relentless discipline of her past life, refused to break. She saw the opening instantly as his arrogance left his physical guard wide open. Using the momentum of his own clumsy, overconfident lunge against him, she sidestepped, grabbed his extended arm, and drove her knee hard into his unprotected stomach.

Jett cried out, stumbling backward and crashing into the massive glass vanity. Expensive perfume bottles shattered, their cloying scents filling the air.

Seraphina crumpled to the floor, clutching her swollen cheek as tears streamed down her face. "You're a psycho!" she screamed.

Halie pulled a silk robe from a nearby chair and draped it over her shoulders. She looked down at the two pathetic figures on the floor as if they were insects.

"You," she said, her voice a blade of ice, her words sharp and fluent. "You live off the scraps Seraphina throws you. You leech off her family's name because your own is worthless. You are nothing but a well-dressed parasite."

Jett's face went white. Every word was a direct hit, a truth he tried so desperately to hide. His lips trembled, but under Halie's piercing gaze, he couldn't form a single rebuttal.

Seraphina shrieked, "I'll tell Dad! He'll cut you off completely! No accounts, no medical care! You'll have nothing!"

Halie just shrugged, a gesture of pure indifference. She pointed a single, elegant finger toward the open door.

"Get out."

Jett, trying to salvage a shred of dignity, spat a weak threat before helping a sobbing Seraphina to her feet. They stumbled toward the hallway, a mess of tears and wounded pride.

They were moving too slowly.

Halie snatched a heavy crystal paperweight from the nightstand and hurled it. It smashed into the doorframe just inches from their feet.

Splinters flew. The two of them screamed, scrambling out of the room like the vermin they were.

Halie strode to the door and slammed it shut. The heavy thud was followed by the click of the electronic and physical locks engaging.

Finally safe, the strength drained from her. She slid down the door, her back pressed against the cool wood, and gasped for air. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she took stock of the pathetic limits of her new body.

She closed her eyes, trying to sort through the chaos in her mind.

Ding.

A sharp, emotionless, mechanical sound echoed not in the room, but deep inside her skull.

A holographic screen, glowing an ethereal blue, materialized in her vision, impossible to look away from.

A cold, synthetic voice announced, "Kismet System binding successful."

Halie took a deep breath, forcing her racing heart to slow. She tentatively reached out, her fingers passing straight through the blue holographic screen. It was an illusion of light, but the information it presented was terrifyingly real.

The Kismet System's mechanical voice echoed in her mind, a cold recitation of her current state.

"Subject: Halie Avila. Spiritual Power: D-Class. Physical Condition: Severe facial disfigurement, vital signs weak."

A red warning box flashed on the screen. "Alert: Genetic collapse in progress. Without immediate energy infusion for repair, subject will face organ failure within thirty days."

Halie clenched her jaw. The death clock didn't scare her. It focused her. "How do I get energy?" she asked the air, her voice steady.

The system's interface shifted, presenting three options for a main quest line. The first two were assassination missions, each with a mortality rate hovering over ninety percent.

Her eyes locked onto the third option, the one glowing with a soft, golden light: Save the sterile males of the galaxy. Obtain life energy by forming bonds.

Her rational mind, the mind of a top scientist from her past life, knew that hunting beasts with this broken body was suicide. She didn't hesitate. Her finger pressed the third option.

A pleasant chime sounded, and the screen erupted in a shower of golden fireworks. "Newbie gift package has been distributed."

A searing heat bloomed on her right wrist. She looked down to see a small, black tattoo of a Möbius strip materializing on her skin.

Acting on instinct, she focused her mind on the tattoo. The space in front of her warped, and she was sucked into a vortex of light.

She found herself standing in a pristine, white space. Her breath hitched. It was her lab. The state-of-the-art biomedical laboratory she had used back on her doomed planet, Blue Star. Every piece of equipment was exactly where it should be.

She rushed to a familiar sterile workstation, her fingers tracing the cool metal surface. A profound sense of security washed over her, a feeling she hadn't realized she'd been missing.

The lab's central computer lit up, informing her that her current access level was low. She could only use basic purification equipment and the storage space.

Halie wasn't discouraged. She knew that even with basic tools, her knowledge from a past life was enough to cause a storm in this world.

With a thought, she exited the space, returning to her trashed bedroom. The pain in her body seemed to have lessened, dulled by the surge of adrenaline and hope.

The system screen popped up again. "Please draw your first target." A deck of blurred photo cards spread across the display.

Halie randomly tapped the one on the far edge. The card flipped over, revealing the face of a man. He was hauntingly beautiful, with a chiseled jaw and silver hair, but his skin was unnaturally pale, and his eyes held a chilling emptiness.

"Target Information," the system intoned. "Coleman. S-Class male. Completely sterile due to a genetic defect. Exiled by his family to the Southern District."

Halie's memory banks churned. She realized with a jolt of dread that this Coleman was someone the original Halie had relentlessly bullied during their academy days, all to show off her own status.

She rubbed her temples, groaning in frustration. The original owner wasn't just a waste; she was an idiot who made enemies everywhere. This was a hell-difficulty start.

"Alert," the system chimed in. "Target's spiritual power is in a state of extreme instability, on the verge of a violent collapse. Host must proceed to pacify him within twelve hours, or the mission will fail and the host's genetic collapse will accelerate."

Halie opened her personal terminal, intending to check her assets and buy a ticket to the Southern District.

A glaring red notification filled the screen. All her primary accounts had been frozen by her family. Her remaining balance was a pathetic few hundred star coins.

A cold laugh escaped her. Seraphina had worked fast. The cold-blooded efficiency of the Avila family was on full display.

She turned and marched into the walk-in closet, rummaging through the original Halie's collection of luxury handbags and unopened, expensive jewelry.

Halie stuffed the gaudy, impractical items into a nondescript black duffel bag. They were her ticket to survival. She would sell them on the black market.

While clearing out a drawer, her fingers brushed against a formal-looking document. It was a military marriage matching notice, assigned by the Empire's central AI.

The groom's name was Erwin, a Major General in the military. But below his name, a stark red stamp declared that he had already filed a unilateral request for a forced dissolution of the match.

Halie stared at the arrogant red ink. Her first instinct was to tear the useless paper to shreds, but a cold, calculating light gleamed in her eyes.

"A unilateral dissolution without my signature? How convenient for you, General," she muttered, carefully folding the document and slipping it into her pocket.

It might be a useless match now, but in the political games of the capital, even a broken contract could be weaponized later. Right now, however, she had only one immediate priority: get money, get to the Southern District, and find Coleman to save her own life.

She changed into a set of practical black cargo pants and a hoodie, pulling the hood up to hide her scarred face. Hefting the heavy duffel bag, she walked out of the room without a backward glance.

Just as Halie pushed open the heavy iron gate at the back of the Avila villa, her terminal vibrated violently. Her father's name, Maximilian Avila, flashed on the screen.

She answered with a cold smile. Maximilian's furious roar blasted from the speaker, making her ear ache.

He screamed at her for hitting her sister, for shaming the family name. He officially, and with great relish, stripped her of her inheritance rights.

Then came the final judgment. "You are hereby exiled to the Southern District," he declared, his voice devoid of any warmth. "You can rot there for all I care."

Halie didn't cry or beg. Instead, a calm, almost pleased tone entered her voice. "Okay." Then she hung up.

The phone call had saved her the trouble of making an excuse to leave. Her destination was now officially sanctioned.

As dusk settled and a storm brewed on the horizon, she arrived at the underground black market. The hood of her sweatshirt and a deliberately lowered voice hid her identity.

She entered a dimly lit pawn shop, slamming the duffel bag onto the scratched counter. A cloud of dust puffed into the air.

The greedy pawnbroker tried to lowball her, his eyes glinting with the kind of disdain reserved for fallen aristocrats.

Halie said nothing. She simply let a tactical knife slide from her sleeve into her hand. She casually dragged the blade across the countertop, carving a deep, clean line into the wood.

The broker's eyes widened. The undisguised killing intent in her gaze made a cold sweat break out on his forehead. He quickly revised his offer to a fair market price, transferring the credits to her anonymous account.

With the money secured, Halie didn't waste a second. She hailed a battered hover-taxi on her terminal, paying a premium for a driver willing to go to the Southern District.

The taxi sped through the storm, the glittering neon lights of the city slowly giving way to decaying industrial ruins. The contrast was stark.

Halie leaned back and closed her eyes, replaying the system's data on Coleman, running through every possible scenario for their meeting.

Two hours later, the taxi screeched to a halt at the end of a pitted, unpaved street, kicking up a cloud of acrid dust.

"Out," the driver snapped, clearly anxious to leave. This place felt cursed.

Halie stepped out of the car. The wind whipped sand against her scarred cheeks, stinging her skin. She pulled her hood tighter.

Dragging her suitcase, she followed the weak signal on her terminal's map toward the only lit building in this wasteland: the Southern District Biological Research Institute.

The institute's gate was rusted and imposing. As she approached, two burly, hostile-looking guards blocked her path.

They mocked her hooded appearance and demanded a steep entrance fee.

Halie didn't argue. She slapped a wad of freshly exchanged cash onto one guard's chest and spoke a single name, her voice cold.

"Coleman."

At the mention of that name, the guards' expressions shifted. A flicker of fear, of apprehension toward that "mad scientist," crossed their faces. They silently stepped aside.

Halie walked through a dim, damp corridor. The air was a nauseating mix of disinfectant and the smell of something rotting, something vaguely plant-like.

She stopped in front of a heavy, sealed metal door. The name 'Coleman' was scrawled on it in faded red paint.

She took a deep breath. Just as she raised her hand to knock, a loud crash of shattering glass erupted from within, followed by a low, bestial growl.

A powerful wave of spiritual energy pulsed through the metal door, making her head spin. The system's red alert flashed frantically in her vision.

"Alert: Target Coleman is on the verge of a spiritual power riot. Danger level: SSS. Host is advised to evacuate immediately."

Halie didn't move. Her eyes narrowed. She entered the universal override code provided by the system. With a soft beep, the metal door hissed open.

The moment it opened, a violent gust of energy and glass shards blasted toward her. She instinctively threw her arm up to shield her face.

Through the gaps between her fingers, she saw him. The man in the center of the room, panting like a caged animal.

His silver-gray eyes locked onto hers, filled with nothing but the desire to destroy.